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Tommy dawned his invisibility cloak, double-checking to make sure Tubbo and Ranboo were still asleep. Tubbo was snoring away, and Ranboo was curled up tightly as he slept. The sight brought a slight smile to Tommy’s face before he looked away, and it dropped. With one glance to ensure his cloak covered his whole body, Tommy snuck out of their shared dormitory in Gryffindor house.
Tommy knew they would want to come with him if they saw he was sneaking out past curfew, but this was something Tommy needed to do alone. They luckily hadn’t noticed him doing this about once a month, and he planned on keeping it that way.
Tommy walked through Hogwart’s hallowed halls, the only sound being his light breathing and quiet footsteps. The thirteen-year-old was careful to avoid any professors who could be wandering the halls, looking to punish misbehaving students (Tommy didn’t want to lose his house any points just because he could only do this late at night when no eyes could see him).
Tommy was used to keeping hidden, though; he had practically mastered sneaking around after doing this multiple times. Honestly, Tommy at first thought such a prestigious school would have better monitoring, but as it was, they were pretty bad at keeping track of those who made it a point to skirt around the night rules, and it made it especially easy for Tommy, with his cloak, to get around.
Tommy exhaled a breath into the chilled air as he stood in front of an old classroom, one out of use, and slipped inside, wincing slightly as the rusted door squeaked as he shut it. He had found this room two years ago when on another late-night adventure (for a reason much more pressing and having to do with he who Tommy should not name). At the time, Tommy had been trying to hide from a professor as he got separated from Tubbo and Ranboo. This room had turned out to be the perfect hiding spot.
It was abandoned, a room lost in the winding halls of Hogwarts. However, that was not why Tommy continued to come back to the dusty and hauntingly empty room. No, he had another reason to do so.
Tucked in the corner of the room, with a heavy navy curtain covering it, sat a floor-length mirror.
Tommy let his invisibility cloak fall from his shoulders as he went to the mirror, pulling the curtain off (no dust flew into the air from his action; he moved the curtain too frequently for it to accumulate). Immediately, Tommy felt tears spring to his eyes as he looked into the reflection, mesmerized. Almost in a daze, Tommy lowered his body and sat on the cold ground, tucking his knees into his body and hugging them. He could stay here for hours, just staring, pretending. It was disorientating how much Tommy got sucked into what the mirror showed him.
It made him forget who he was, what he would one day have to do, and what he had lost.
But Tommy was interrupted after only a few minutes by the classroom door opening. It was a sudden shift, a harsh noise that abruptly brought Tommy out of his delusion, leaving him more disorientated than before as he scrambled to remember why he was not supposed to be in the room looking at the mirror.
Tommy gathered himself together quickly and turned around, ready to explain himself to whatever professor caught him, hoping he wouldn’t lose house points. But he settled once he realized who it was. Of course, it was him; he was always where Tommy didn’t want him. Tommy turned back around, ignoring him and choosing to focus on the mirror, although Tommy knew that he would be unable to get lost in the mirror as he had just been while Headmaster Philza was in the room.
Tommy didn’t care for headmaster Philza. While Tommy was lucky that Philza found him since the Headmaster would never punish Tommy for almost anything given his “status,” it wasn’t the reward it seemed. Not when the Headmaster treated Tommy the way he did.
The Headmaster’s footstep approached, and Tommy could see his reflection in the mirror, disturbing the perfect image that it held before he entered the room. Tommy chose to ignore him, enjoying the few moments of quiet as he stared into the mirror, getting only a fraction of the comfort he had felt before. Philza stared straight into the mirror too, perhaps hoping Tommy would speak first. After a minute or so, where Tommy kept uncharacteristically quiet, though, Philza sighed and gave in.
“You know this room is closed off for a reason. You shouldn’t even know the Mirror of Erised exists.” Huh, so that’s what it was called. “But clearly, you have come here more than once,” Philza said with a quirked eyebrow (still not looking at Tommy, either in person or in the reflection). Perhaps he hoped Tommy would feel remorseful for sneaking around, but Tommy said nothing. It made Tommy feel marginally better when Philza seemed at a loss for words at Tommy’s insolence.
Tommy never acted this way during the day, better at hiding his anger towards Philza and playing the part of the perfect golden student. At night, though, Tommy didn’t have the energy to put on the act of the stupid fucking chosen one (chosen for grief, not greatness, as far as Tommy was concerned).
Headmaster Philza cleared his throat. “Tell me, Tommy, What do you see in the Mirror of Erised?”
Tommy glanced up to meet Philza’s eyes in the mirror (his eyes were something Tommy had never looked into, but the mirror gave him a semi-comfortable barrier to do so). Philza, though, deftly avoided Tommy’s gaze, continuing to look at himself in the mirror instead.
Tommy finally gave up his silence, wanting to get whatever Philza came here for over with.
“Why don’t you tell me first, and I’ll consider saying mine,” Tommy said with a biting tone, but it was quiet, more subdued than he usually was.
Philza seemed to expect the question, the prick, as he rubbed at his stubble and answered, not at all irritated that Tommy avoided the question.
“Hmm. I see my family. My wife and my children, all of whom are no longer with me.” Despite the sad topic of his words, the Headmaster seemed unbothered.
Tommy’s hands clenched into his pajama pants. He wanted to scream at him, to call bullshit. Yes, Philza might have some feelings inside of him and might see his wife and kids, but those last words were lies, lies that he was much too comfortable spouting. Tommy knew that his wife Kristin and son Wilbur were dead; how could he not? But his other son, Technoblade, was alive.
Sure, Technoblade was imprisoned in Azkaban for years after being framed for multiple murders, but he escaped last year and was clearly innocent. He had tried to contact Philza, to re-establish their relationship and prove his innocence, but the Headmaster had acted as if he didn’t know him, even helping the Wizarding forces to try and re-capture him (which failed thanks to Tommy’s intervention).
Since then, Techno only stayed in contact with Tommy. He was the only adult Tommy could say with certainty was on his side, although it didn’t count for much since he was too busy on the run from the Wizarding World to be there for Tommy outside of a few conversations snuck in when he had a moment to breathe.
While he promised to be there for Tommy, it was almost impossible. Tommy appreciated the attempts and Techno’s sorrow over being unable to keep his promise, but it wasn’t enough for Tommy, a boy starved of love his whole life. (No one was ever able to keep a promise to Tommy).
Philza’s dismissal of Technoblade in his answer was not what truly made Tommy mad–no–it was his refusal to acknowledge that he still had Tommy, alive and in the same room as him.
Philza liked to pretend it wasn’t true, but even he couldn’t change the fact that, technically, Tommy was his family. But Philza would rather die than admit that Tommy was his grandson, that he was the son of his own child Wilbur, the child he missed more than anything. To Philza, all his family was dead (Tommy tried not to think that at least his Uncle Techno got acknowledgment as Philza’s child even if he would rather pretend he died years ago. With Tommy, there was no such kindness. As far as Philza was concerned, Tommy was just a student and had no connection to him. He was a boy destined to die one day).
Tommy tensed his jaw and tried not to think of how a part of him desperately yearned to know if Philza also saw Tommy in the mirror as well (he knew the answer would be no, though, that if there was one thing Philza was honest about in his words, it was that he only saw his wife and children).
Tommy almost wished he didn’t know Philza was his grandfather, that his Uncle Techno had never told Tommy that he was his father’s brother and, by association, told Tommy that he was related to Philza. Yet Tommy couldn’t fully be mad about it since his honesty meant Tommy gained a family he never knew about. Tommy had found Techno, and with that, he had gained an Uncle who loved him–the only living person in Tommy’s family who did.
Tommy abruptly stood up, no longer wanting to keep on the same train of thought. Philza had ruined his night, and there was no reason to stay longer. He brushed off his pajama pants as he walked away but was interrupted before he could go far, freezing in place as Philza spoke.
“You never told me what you see, Tommy,” Philza’s voice carried, his tone even. Apathetic.
Tommy’s jaw ticked as he whipped around, meeting Headmaster Philza’s eyes straight-on–his Grandfather’s eyes straight-on–but Philza intentionally looked slightly to the side, refusing to give Tommy the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. Of course, the one time Tommy got the courage to look him in the eyes (or maybe he was just too tired to think of what he was doing), the Headmaster remained a coward. Not for the first time, Tommy saw the similarities in their shared blue eyes. He despised them with everything in him (Philza’s were cold, devoid of life, whereas Tommy’s always held hope even when he wished he could let it die).
“You want to know what I see?” Tommy asked, a coldness in his voice that surprised even himself.
Philza, shockingly, met Tommy’s eyes at his tone. It was the first time ever, but Tommy felt too numb to care. Philza almost looked like he didn’t want to hear anymore, an emotion flashing briefly, but Tommy knew it had to be a trick of the light. Fine, if he wanted to know, Tommy would tell him.
“I see myself dead,” Tommy spat out before grabbing his cloak and leaving the Headmaster behind. Tommy refused to see his face after he had spoken; he couldn’t bear it if Philza hadn’t even seemed to care.
What Tommy doesn’t say to Philza is that it was a lie. Tommy sees himself with his Dad. He sees Wilbur ruffling his hair and hugging him from behind. In the mirror, Wilbur whispers how much he loves Tommy and wishes to be there for him. He apologizes for leaving him behind and for Philza’s actions, placing kisses on the crown of Tommy’s head as he does so (phantom kisses that Tommy wished he could feel). Tommy sees himself receiving the love that was taken from him so long ago.
Considering his Dad was dead, though, Tommy took it as a vision of what he wanted in the future–himself dead and buried, reunited with the only person who loved Tommy enough to die for him.
(What Tommy does not see is Philza, for the first time in a long time, feeling just a twinge of something that he had thought to have snuffed out long ago with the death of his son–love. Tommy does not see the fear on his face, the break in his impenetrable mask, as something changes, for better or for worse).