Professor Dumbledore
October 21st, 2009, 2:00 am
Voting Instructions
THE SECOND ROUND OF VOTING WILL END ON SUNDAY, OCTOBER 25TH AT 11:59 PM GMT.
Current time around the world (http://www.worldtimezone.com/)
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Please vote for the entry you feel deserves to win. The votes will remain secret until after the voting is over. You may NOT vote for yourself this time.
The voting thread is here:
Final Vote - Favourite Entry - 7th Challenge (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=123056)
The finalists for Favourite Entry:
entry # - votes
28 - 23
47 - 20
26 - 19
13 - 17
10 - 16
64 - 16
18 - 15
41 - 15
4 - 14
52 - 13
1 - 12
25 - 12
61 - 12
entry # - votes
28 - 23
47 - 20
26 - 19
13 - 17
10 - 16
64 - 16
18 - 15
41 - 15
4 - 14
52 - 13
1 - 12
25 - 12
61 - 12
11 - 11
49 - 11
68 - 11
20 - 9
32 - 9
19 - 8
23 - 8
31 - 8
42 - 8
66 - 8
22 - 7
58 - 7
71 - 7
72 - 7
73 - 7
74 - 7
77 - 7
15 - 6
24 - 6
36 - 6
63 - 6
70 - 6
75 - 6
3 - 5
5 - 5
6 - 5
7 - 5
8 - 5
9 - 5
27 - 5
53 - 5
59 - 5
60 - 5
12 - 4
14 - 4
21 - 4
30 - 4
43 - 4
48 - 4
54 - 4
16 - 3
38 - 3
56 - 3
67 - 3
17 - 2
45 - 2
50 - 2
51 - 2
62 - 2
65 - 2
69 - 2
76 - 2
2 - 1
29 - 1
33 - 1
37 - 1
46 - 1
55 - 1
57 - 1
34 - 0
35 - 0
39 - 0
40 - 0
44 - 0
mixed media -votes
18 - 25
41 - 24
11 - 21
64 - 22
47 - 21
10 - 18
36 - 16
31 - 16
mixed media- votes
18 - 25
41 - 24
11 - 21
64 - 22
47 - 21
10 - 18
36 - 16
31 - 16
6 - 13
43 - 13
61 - 13
5 - 13
32 - 9
65 - 7
71 - 7
34 - 6
17 - 5
33 - 5
55 - 6
14 - 3
7 - 1
image by itself
Entry # - votes
28 - 33
26 - 31
25 - 25
49 - 23
1 - 19
52 - 18
22 - 16
image by itself
Entry # - votes
28 - 33
26 - 31
25 - 25
49 - 23
1 - 19
52 - 18
22 - 16
74 - 14
2 - 11
66 - 11
3 - 9
59 - 9
23 - 9
21 - 7
67 - 7
75 - 7
37 - 3
51 - 3
69 - 3
entry # votes
13 - 29
4 - 25
42 - 22
8 - 18
68 - 17
24 - 16
53 - 16
73 - 16
48 - 15
20 - 14
entry # votes
13 - 29
4 - 25
42 - 22
8 - 18
68 - 17
24 - 16
53 - 16
73 - 16
48 - 15
20 - 14
60 - 13
19 13
63 13
27 12
70 12
9 12
15 10
72 9
30 9
12 8
58 8
77 7
16 7
54 6
76 6
45 5
46 5
38 4
50 4
62 4
56 4
44 3
57 3
35 2
40 1
29 0
39 0
Entry 64
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y92/Elwen2/picture1.gif
As I approached the far side of the empty classroom, I recognised the ancient mirror. So it was true. It was really still here in the school. What would it show? Of course, in my heart I knew exactly what it would be….. but what would it be like to actually see it?
I hesitated. Should I really look? Would they find me here after days, unable to leave? No. My deepest desire was not like others. Can one inherit one’s most strongly held wish? Well, I had – and I had always shared that desire – talked about it, lost myself in it for hours on end. Seeing my deepest desire should be familiar, like a home you like to come back to, but which you don’t hesitate leaving every morning. No. I thought there could be no surprises - I just wanted to see how the mirror would make my wish, my grandfather’s wish, seem true….
As I approached the mirror – there it was. The old photograph. The only thing granddad had brought when he fled from his village, never to return. But part of granddad’s heart had stayed behind. I remember him so well. The old man, a face that might have seen centuries, his accent still betraying his Mediterranean homeland. On special days, he would invite me to his secret garden shed: a den, full of fascinating old things, the debris of a long life. He’d reach for the silver box on the top bookshelf, and there it was – the old photograph of the house. And then he would tell his wondrous stories about the village and its people. And for a while, I would be in that different world. I would hear the distant sea, I would smell the huge old plane tree in the hot midday sunshine, listen to the zikadas chirping….
Ever since I was a little girl I had wished so much that I could have been there with him, back home, where he so much longed to be. How I wished that he could have stayed there, that I could have grown up there, in that stone house under the tall plane tree, his life of homesickness forgotten. This was the deep longing I had inherited, a longing for a place I had never even seen, a desire to lead a life I only knew from stories.
And slowly, as I closer, the picture in the mirror changed. The picture became more real, more tangible, just as I had always imagined it when grandfather had continued his endless story. Oh, the colours…. And the leaves, moving in the light summer breeze! How… real it looked! I wanted to lose myself in that image, that unknown and yet familiar place.
But wasn’t this a mirror? Where was my own image? Slowly a shadow emerged from the picture, blocking the view to the house…. a woman, rather blurry and transparent, like a ghost. ‘But this isn’t me?’, I wondered, and looked more closely. The figure became less blurry. No, this wasn’t me. The woman in the mirror looked a bit like me, but yet…. She was definitely a lot prettier than I am! “I’d love to have dark hair like she does!” I heard myself say enviously.
But this wasn’t me in my grandfather’s world? Why doesn’t she look like me? Who is she?
And slowly it dawned on me – if granddad had never left, he would never have met my gran! And then…. They wouldn’t have had my mother…. And yes, clearly my grandfather’s grandchild would not have been me. Why had I never thought about this? My grandfather’s dreams had always brought his family with him, back home to his old village. And would I really have been so happy? And what other dream would he have had to share with his granddaughter in those precious moments?
I wonder why the mirror did not simply show me what I had imagined, but revealed how this alternative reality would have differed from the dream. It’s as if the mirror wanted to say: ”be careful what you wish for!” There and then, while looking at this other me, my greatest desire became a mere dream. The mirror turned grey, as if it was waiting to be tuned to a new deepest desire, my very own, and no-one else’s.
At this point, I withdrew. I didn’t want the mirror to show me before I could find out for myself. And my grandfather’s dream? I still like to visit it now and then, as you revisit a favourite story – but I know now that sometimes it’s a good idea to hold on to one’s reality: I am pretty sure that now, the mirror would show a reflection which looks a lot more like me.
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 61
I pushed the final door open and saw a giant mirror facing me. I walked toward the mirror, seeing myself in the reflection, until I was close enough to read its frame: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. I smiled – I knew what that meant. But as I looked back down into the glass, I saw myself unchanged. Surely I wasn’t the happiest person alive?
Then, right in front of my befuddled expression floated a pink ribbon, existing only in the mirror. A pink ribbon? I became even more confused, but then it began coiling itself into a series of words – lyrics, I saw, when I began to read them:
Hagrid had a Fluffy dog, Fluffy dog, Fluffy dog.
Hagrid had a Fluffy dog, its three heads in a row.
I smiled again, remembering the song I had sung to Fluffy, what seemed ages ago. I sang along,
“Then one day Hagrid lent, Hagrid lent, Hagrid lent,
Then one day Hagrid lent his dog to Dumbledore.”
The ribbon disappeared in a flash, leaving the room filled with dense fog. When the fog cleared, the mirror showed me in a room surrounded by a harmless looking hedge. I recalled the textbook passage that got me through that challenge the first time:
“The hazy hedge uses a slow but sure method to capture its prey. When it senses a prey item in its vicinity (usually humans), it emits a puff of dense fog and then inches its way to the victim. The hedge moves so stealthily the victim has no clue it’s being attacked until it’s almost entirely engulfed by the plant.”
I glanced at my reflection and saw only a hand and a wand poking through the brambles. My mind skipped ahead to how to defeat the plant.
http://i259.photobucket.com/albums/hh317/sir_nicholas_de_mimsy/Trapdoorfinal1.jpg
“Beating the plant is easy enough. You only need to water it, and it will happily shrink back to its original position.”
As I finished remembering the escape method, my reflection was freed, but it immediately began looking around for something neither of us could see. I remembered this challenge as well: find the elusive key. This was one of the toughest challenges, since I was forced to remember the most trivial details about the most trivial aspects of magic. Only after I answered most of the questions correctly did the key magically appear (thankfully I didn’t have to figure out how the key appeared, otherwise I would never have gotten here).
I knew what was coming next, but I didn’t delight in the image of myself popping into a “chess piece.” I say “chess piece” because not only did I wind up as part pawn, but I incompletely transfigured myself into a badger as well! A badger-pawn-human doesn’t make a good combination, that’s for sure.
http://i259.photobucket.com/albums/hh317/sir_nicholas_de_mimsy/Trapdoorfinal2.jpg
I can’t even remember how I got out of that spot; all I know is that I now have a long white stripe down the middle of my hair.
Next thing I knew, my reflection was walking around grunting and stammering. I remember I had decided to impersonate both a troll and Professor Quirrel (he said he had a special gift with trolls – I figured how he talked was that gift!) to pass this next challenge. I stammered and grunted my way through an entire essay on why the Dark Arts exist, feeling like I had taken some Babbling Beverage:
“T-th-th-the D-d-d-ark *grunt* Arts ex-ex-ex-iiiiiiiiiiiist *long grunt* bec-c-ause *grunt* bec-c-ause *grunt* - people *grunt* like p-p-p-onies *grunt*….”
Little did I know that I would be taking a Babbling Beverage soon after as an antidote to the Draught of Silent Silence. The potions challenge was undoubtedly the hardest of all. I had to identify all the ingredients of the poison, figure out its effects (death, etc.), and then brew a proper Babbling Beverage! I’m no potioneer, and I think I survived that gulp of the Draught of Silent Silence mostly because I was in such a babbling mood anyway from the previous challenge!
But here, the Mirror of Erised went blank – just me standing in an old room. I didn’t need the Mirror anymore, though – it had done its job. It showed me that, despite all the horrors and near-death experiences these seven challenges had dealt me, I desired, above all else, the memories from these challenges and the understanding they gave me. With my hair discolored and my speech all of babbles, I knew I didn’t need to look into the mirror anymore, since my true desires lied within my very memory. I peeked at my reflection, just for confirmation, and it winked at me. The glass in the mirror disappeared, revealing a stone slide. I gathered up my memories and, with a wide smile, slid away from the dungeons through the trapdoor.
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 52
http://i581.photobucket.com/albums/ss254/neverendingparty/entry52.jpg
Category: Image Only
Entry 47
http://i581.photobucket.com/albums/ss254/neverendingparty/GuineaPigs042.jpg
The deepest and most desperate desire of my heart is to be this guinea pig.
When I look into her eyes I see nothing but contentment, a smiling grateful happiness whose only concern is the juiciness of the next carrot and whose days are spent soaking up the sun. She isn’t stressed by futile pastimes such as work and traffic; she has time to commit to the more important things in life, like reading last week’s newspaper that lines her hutch and conversing with her various guinea-companions about current events and the quality of dandelions. She’s even perfected the subtle art of eating while lying down, an ability that I believe everyone should strive to attain. As a guinea pig I would make the most of life and enjoy the slow paced living that only a well catered for, four-legged rodent can truly appreciate.
Also, I like having my tummy tickled.
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 41
http://i98.photobucket.com/albums/l254/whity22/FinalTask.jpg
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 28
Imagination, Come Alive
My heart's desire is for my imaginary world to become a reality:
http://img91.imageshack.us/img91/8224/contestentrymirrorfixjp.jpg
Category: Image Only
Entry 26
http://img2.imageshack.us/img2/3411/trapdoor7thtask.jpg
I will be a ballerina, to dance on my toes.
I will spin in the spotlight, it's hard work, I know. This is my dream, my desire the most.
To be a ballerina, the prima, I hope.
Category: Image Only
Entry 25
http://i581.photobucket.com/albums/ss254/neverendingparty/Finaltaskimage.jpg
"One can never have enough books.
People will insist on giving me thick, woollen socks." - me.
Category: Image Only
Entry 18
http://img142.imageshack.us/img142/9933/erised.gif
The mirror of Erised
My deepest desire,
Though it may sound cliché,
Is to go to Hogwarts,
And learn magic every day.
But before I went to Hogwarts,
I’d need to buy supplies,
And Diagon Alley’s got it all,
Like robes of every size.
Before I could buy anything,
Or go on a shopping spree,
I would need my gold,
And Gringotts is where it’d be.
So I’d walk up to the goblin,
And he’d ask me for my key,
Then we’d head down underground,
To vault five hundred & sixty-three.
After I’d retrieved some gold,
I would give the shops a try,
I’d take a look at my Hogwarts list,
And find what I should buy.
I would buy a magic wand,
From Mr. Ollivander,
Then I’d get potion supplies,
Like tails of salamanders.
Next I’d purchase my uniform,
At Madam Malkin’s shop,
Then I’d go to Eyelop's Owls,
Where the hooting doesn’t stop.
Later I’d go to Flourish & Blotts,
Where I’d find the books I’d need,
Then, I’d have all my supplies,
And my journey could proceed.
On September 1st I’d pack my trunk,
And head to King's Cross Station,
The whole time I’d be anxious,
For my magic education.
Platform nine & three quarters,
Would be packed with a crowd,
Screeching, hooting, talking,
It would be extremely loud.
The scarlet steam engine,
Called the Hogwarts Express,
Would be waiting to take me,
Away from the crowdedness.
After everyone found a compartment,
And we’d finally taken our seats,
A woman with a cart would ask,
If I wanted any sweets.
So I’d buy some Licorice Wands, Chocolate frogs,
And Drooble's Best Blowing Gum,
I’d also buy some Cauldron Cakes,
And devourer every last crumb!
When we’d finally arrived,
A strange sound would meet my ear,
It’d be a booming voice that shouted,
Firs’ years over here!
So I would follow Hagrid,
To some boats sitting by the shore,
And as I climbed in, I’d wonder,
What could be in store?
Once we crossed the lake,
And we reached the entrance hall,
We’d learn about the houses,
From Professor McGonagall.
Next, in the Great Hall,
We would see quite a sight,
Ghosts, floating all around,
Transparent & pearly-white.
We would stand up front,
So the sorting could begin,
And I’d start to wonder to myself,
What house would I be in?
Professor McGonagall,
Would start reading names from a scroll,
While students put on an old hat,
That’d be dirty as a troll.
As I placed the hat upon my head,
It’d be quiet as a mouse,
Then it’d open near the brim,
And shout out my house!
Next, the feast would start,
And there’d be lots of delicious food,
Roast chicken, pudding, steak, bacon,
And beef that had been stewed.
The next day I’d wake up,
And off to class I’d go,
I’d have classes like Herbology,
Where I’d make gillyweed grow.
Professor Sprout would be messy,
With a patched hat & fly-away gray hair,
She’d always be covered in dirt,
But she’d be kind, so I wouldn’t care.
Potions would be fun,
Mixing different stuff together,
Like fluxweed, mandrake seeds,
And powdered phoenix feather.
Snape would seem a bit mean,
But he’d just be misunderstood,
Down underneath it all,
He’d really be kind & good.
History of Magic would be interesting,
Learning about goblin riots & giant wars,
With all that violence & fighting,
The work would hardly seem like chores.
Transfiguration would be neat,
Changing all kinds of things,
Like an old, dirty, pair of boots,
Into a clock that sings.
Professor McGonagall,
Would be a little stern,
But that’d only be because she cared,
And wanted us to learn.
Care of Magical Creatures,
Would be wicked awesome,
Taking care of blast-ended skrewts,
And a fire breathing possum.
Hagrid would love huge monsters,
And he, himself, would be gigantic,
But don’t let that fool you,
He could also be romantic.
Charms would be a blast,
Learning spells like reparo & lumos,
With all the awesome stuff that you learn,
There’s nothing to make you doze.
Professor Flitwick would be small,
With a high & squeaky voice,
But when it comes to charms teachers,
He’d be my number one choice.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts,
I’d learn to defend myself from Inferi,
And that could come in handy,
‘Cause, man, those things are eerie.
All throughout the year,
My talents would increase,
I’d be smarter, faster, better,
My skills would never cease.
But, at the end of the year,
I’d sadly have to leave,
I’d miss all of my teachers & friends,
And maybe even peeves.
Although there’s a bright side,
It’s not as bad as you may fear,
‘Cause it’d only be one summer until,
I’d get to go back next year!
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 13
What is the deepest desire of my heart?
Now, there’s a good question! Oh, where do I start?
I wish I were not such a vain, shallow rotter,
That my dreams were as pure as that wretched boy Potter.
Alas, my true answer, banal and absurd,
Reminds me a lot of a tale I once heard:
A radio host in a country somewhere
Phoned foreign ambassadors and, live on air,
In the interests of spreading some seasonal cheer,
Asked what they wanted for Christmas that year.
The Spaniard said, “I would like peace in our time”;
The Frenchman, “An end to all violent crime”;
The German, “That all of the starving are fed”;
“That’s terribly kind,” the British one said,
And then he went on, to his shame so acute,
“I’d like a small basket of crystallised fruit.”*
That British ambassador’s kind of like me:
I know that a vision of close family
Is what I should see in the Erised glass,
But, alas, I’m a self-centred pain in the… neck.
Though I know it is clicheed and selfish and wrong,
In the words of that odious Nickelback song,
My desire (or, as posh people say, “Mah desar”)
Is :rockon:“I-I-I wanna be a rock star!”:rockon:
In my dreams, I’m an axegirl, a foxy rock chick,
A guitar virtuoso, who’d easily lick
All the hard bits in “Freebird” or “Stairway to Heaven”,
While in real life I struggle with D and A7.
I’m not just plain bad. It’s worse, can’t you see?
Even Posh Spice has more talent than me!
Though I’ve always sung as well as I could,
I’d probably make Paris Hilton sound good.
In my dreams, I can make my guitar weep and sing,
But, in truth, I’m not able to tune the darn thing!
While I’d love to play keyboards like Sir Elton John,
I even get “Chopsticks” abysmally wrong,
And although I would settle for being a drummer,
I have no sense of rhythm – now ain’t that a bummer!
But what I would see in the Erised frame
Is me in the Rock’n’Roll Great Hall of Fame,
Playing a fusion of rock, funk and blues,
Releasing an album to brilliant reviews,
Mounting the stage, while hundreds applaud,
To collect a most coveted Grammy Award,
Performing at festivals, mud everywhere,
To large crowds of crusties with dreadlocky hair
Who’d scream “Yes! We love you! Why don’t you play more?
We’ve bought the tour T-shirt. We beg you! Encore!”,
Jamming with….ah, well, I’d better not say.
Identities must not be given away.
If I named the musicians with whom I would jam,
It would be pretty obvious just who I am.
The names would provide the predictable answer,
Like Minchin for Druid or Depp for Freelantzer.
But I’d love to play with (and gain, what is more,
The respect of) the people whose songs I adore.
Sure, there would be other perks to my wish –
I could act like a diva and drink like a fish,
Trash my hotel rooms, have tantrums and rants,
Snog gorgeous, young roadies in tight leather pants,
Sign autographs for a besotted admirer,
Appear on the cover of National Enquirer.
But music itself is the thing I hold dear,
That “magic beyond all that we can do here”.
And so, mirror, mirror, (though not on the wall),
Make me the most potent witch of them all.
Give me the talent for which I so long,
Make me a legendary mistress of song.
I’m sure that for voters whose standards are tough,
My desire just won’t be HP-focused enough.
They’ll say, “Oh, dear me, your entry’s inferior!
It just doesn’t meet all my voting criteria!”
So, in desperate hope of quelling their queries,
I also wish Rowling would write a new series.
There! Happy now? I hope so. You see,
My real wish is everyone voting for me.
*This is actually based on a true story. The British Ambassador obviously completely missed the point of the exercise.
Category: Text Only
Entry 10
dnik eb ot nosaer a rof gnihcraes uoy era
Background information about the video:
This video clip is from a bollywood movie ‘Swades’. Mohan (played by Shahrukh Khan), a NRI (Non-Resident Indian), who works as an engineer at NASA returns to India after many years. During the course of his stay in India, he strictly drinks only mineral water because of his fear of falling sick otherwise.
Now the video:
We, the People!
yaaoCwncQiA
Description of the Video:
Somewhere in a village in northern India, a train brings the troubled protagonist Mohan Bhargava chugging to a halt at a godforsaken station. A little boy runs along screaming, "Water for 25 paise."
Mohan, who has never touched anything but mineral water in India, buys the water...
Notes:
(Approximate figures)
100 Paise= 1 Rupee.
50 Rupees= 1 Dollar.
So, 25 Paise= 1/200 of 1 Dollar.
Why, is this my Ultimate Desire?
Sure, like everybody else, I have many desires like buying a Ferrari, a Penthouse, traveling around the World, getting a dream job and even weird ones like licking the ‘Liberty Bell’ or finding out whether the ‘egg’ came first or the ‘chicken’ but they don’t come even close to being the ‘Ultimate One’. Making my parent’s proud of me is probably the only thing that comes somewhat close to this.
During my trip to Mumbai (Bombay) about 4-5 years ago, an incident occurred that left a deep and lasting impression on me. It was about 100 degrees Fahrenheit outside and the humidity was a soaking 85% and I was quite relieved to be sitting inside an air-conditioned car.
But as our car was heading to the Airport, I noticed several small children carrying earthen-vessels filled with water on top of their heads by the roadside, in the sweltering heat. None of them could have been more then 8 years old.
It was at that moment, I felt guilty. Guilty, for enjoying the comforts of an air-conditioned car when the children outside were battling not only the ‘Weather’ but also the weight of the vessels on top of their heads. There faces were pale. Too pale!
‘Fight against Poverty’ has become somewhat of a mission to me, especially when the people affected are small children. Before this incident, I was one of those cynics who thought that their contribution was on such a small-scale, that it wouldn’t make much of a difference to the society at all. But even the smallest of contributions is a contribution after all and hopefully, the contribution will only increase with time.
Snapshot:
http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll108/dejavu_1988/paani005_0001.jpg
Category: Original Video, Mixed Media
Entry 4
20/20 Regret
As I walked through the gate, I reflected on my time here at the venerable Hogwarts School and allowed myself a wistful smile. The grounds remained exactly the same, things hardly changing in the twenty years that had passed since I last left these hallowed grounds. I rounded a corner and beheld a view that had taken my breath away those long years ago, the mighty castle rising majestically over the Great Lake, the Gryffindor Tower calling to me, like some long lost friend.
In the distance, a tendril of smoke came from old Hagrid’s hut, reminding me that despite all that had happened through the years, the ever present grounds keeper was still on duty, still tending to the needs of the magical wildlife that inhabited the grounds. I stopped before the main doors with my hands on my hips and lost myself in the moment. In my chest, there was the rising tide of warmth that I’d associated with the school until the cold hand of guilt and regret overcame me and when I finally exhaled, it was as if I was releasing all the sentimentality I’d gathered up since stepping off the Hogwarts Express.
Twenty years is a long time to regret. Time enough to wonder if I’d made the right choices, followed the right path. I’d tried and failed at so many endeavors: career, love and fortune. I nearly didn’t come. I nearly didn’t accept the invitation from our class President. I’d been so completely immersed in my muggle existence, I nearly fell from shock when the large, gray owl alit on my office window and deposited the gilded parchment announcing the twentieth reunion of my Hogwarts class. When I showed the invitation to my wife, she enthusiastically endorsed the idea.
“Go.” She said, rather forcefully. “Find what you’ve lost. Me and the boys will still be here when you get back. Go and find your smile.”
Nearing forty, I wondered how I’d gotten here and how much of a failure I was, both to myself and my family. I’d wanted to be an Auror. I’d even passed all the exams, only to have it taken away from me because of a foolish choice. Leaving the Ministry, I’d wandered from occupation to occupation, finally settling in on a muggle profession that didn’t require the use of my knowledge of magic. I’d met my wife and we’d had two children, and had created a life that was safe and secure.
But every so often, I’d find myself fiddling with my wand, chasing dark wizards in the back of my brain, and wondering if I’d squandered the gift I’d been granted by birth. This return to Hogwarts was both a blessing and a curse for the same reason. It reminded me of who I was before.
When I entered the castle, I spied a familiar flash of red hair. It was Charlie Weasley, a fellow Gryffindor from my year. Charlie looked so confident, so self assured and he waved at me, the confident smile still plastered on his face. When I didn’t return the smile, his face grew calm and he gestured for me to come close.
“My friend, you need to see the truth. Go to the Room of Requirement and find the truth. Then you’ll be ready for the party.” He pushed me on my way, and I didn’t argue.
I remembered the way, and soon I was inside the room. It was like I remembered, cluttered and musty. What would I possibly find here? In the center of the room was a mirror, THE mirror. I approached it. What would I see? Me in Auror’s robes, alongside the girl I didn’t have the nerve to ask to the Yule ball? Would I be rich? Successful? I was almost afraid to see what my life should have been.
I peered into the mirror and felt myself stop breathing. The mirrored, oval surface reflected an image I had not expected. The reflection was me, as I was today, standing alongside my wife and children with a broad smile on my face. I was living my perfect life. I chuckled. All that I needed in life was the reflection of how good things were. The man I saw in the mirror was the man I was, without the guilt and without the regret. The mirror reflects a person’s greatest desire. I only needed to realize that I was already living that life.
I turned to leave the room, my face in a permanent smile and ready for the future.
Category: Text Only
Entry 1
http://www.r2d2.com.br/trap/mirror_task7.jpg
Category: Image Only
THE SECOND ROUND OF VOTING WILL END ON SUNDAY, OCTOBER 25TH AT 11:59 PM GMT.
Current time around the world (http://www.worldtimezone.com/)
-----------------------------------------------
Please vote for the entry you feel deserves to win. The votes will remain secret until after the voting is over. You may NOT vote for yourself this time.
The voting thread is here:
Final Vote - Favourite Entry - 7th Challenge (http://www.cosforums.com/showthread.php?t=123056)
The finalists for Favourite Entry:
entry # - votes
28 - 23
47 - 20
26 - 19
13 - 17
10 - 16
64 - 16
18 - 15
41 - 15
4 - 14
52 - 13
1 - 12
25 - 12
61 - 12
entry # - votes
28 - 23
47 - 20
26 - 19
13 - 17
10 - 16
64 - 16
18 - 15
41 - 15
4 - 14
52 - 13
1 - 12
25 - 12
61 - 12
11 - 11
49 - 11
68 - 11
20 - 9
32 - 9
19 - 8
23 - 8
31 - 8
42 - 8
66 - 8
22 - 7
58 - 7
71 - 7
72 - 7
73 - 7
74 - 7
77 - 7
15 - 6
24 - 6
36 - 6
63 - 6
70 - 6
75 - 6
3 - 5
5 - 5
6 - 5
7 - 5
8 - 5
9 - 5
27 - 5
53 - 5
59 - 5
60 - 5
12 - 4
14 - 4
21 - 4
30 - 4
43 - 4
48 - 4
54 - 4
16 - 3
38 - 3
56 - 3
67 - 3
17 - 2
45 - 2
50 - 2
51 - 2
62 - 2
65 - 2
69 - 2
76 - 2
2 - 1
29 - 1
33 - 1
37 - 1
46 - 1
55 - 1
57 - 1
34 - 0
35 - 0
39 - 0
40 - 0
44 - 0
mixed media -votes
18 - 25
41 - 24
11 - 21
64 - 22
47 - 21
10 - 18
36 - 16
31 - 16
mixed media- votes
18 - 25
41 - 24
11 - 21
64 - 22
47 - 21
10 - 18
36 - 16
31 - 16
6 - 13
43 - 13
61 - 13
5 - 13
32 - 9
65 - 7
71 - 7
34 - 6
17 - 5
33 - 5
55 - 6
14 - 3
7 - 1
image by itself
Entry # - votes
28 - 33
26 - 31
25 - 25
49 - 23
1 - 19
52 - 18
22 - 16
image by itself
Entry # - votes
28 - 33
26 - 31
25 - 25
49 - 23
1 - 19
52 - 18
22 - 16
74 - 14
2 - 11
66 - 11
3 - 9
59 - 9
23 - 9
21 - 7
67 - 7
75 - 7
37 - 3
51 - 3
69 - 3
entry # votes
13 - 29
4 - 25
42 - 22
8 - 18
68 - 17
24 - 16
53 - 16
73 - 16
48 - 15
20 - 14
entry # votes
13 - 29
4 - 25
42 - 22
8 - 18
68 - 17
24 - 16
53 - 16
73 - 16
48 - 15
20 - 14
60 - 13
19 13
63 13
27 12
70 12
9 12
15 10
72 9
30 9
12 8
58 8
77 7
16 7
54 6
76 6
45 5
46 5
38 4
50 4
62 4
56 4
44 3
57 3
35 2
40 1
29 0
39 0
Entry 64
http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y92/Elwen2/picture1.gif
As I approached the far side of the empty classroom, I recognised the ancient mirror. So it was true. It was really still here in the school. What would it show? Of course, in my heart I knew exactly what it would be….. but what would it be like to actually see it?
I hesitated. Should I really look? Would they find me here after days, unable to leave? No. My deepest desire was not like others. Can one inherit one’s most strongly held wish? Well, I had – and I had always shared that desire – talked about it, lost myself in it for hours on end. Seeing my deepest desire should be familiar, like a home you like to come back to, but which you don’t hesitate leaving every morning. No. I thought there could be no surprises - I just wanted to see how the mirror would make my wish, my grandfather’s wish, seem true….
As I approached the mirror – there it was. The old photograph. The only thing granddad had brought when he fled from his village, never to return. But part of granddad’s heart had stayed behind. I remember him so well. The old man, a face that might have seen centuries, his accent still betraying his Mediterranean homeland. On special days, he would invite me to his secret garden shed: a den, full of fascinating old things, the debris of a long life. He’d reach for the silver box on the top bookshelf, and there it was – the old photograph of the house. And then he would tell his wondrous stories about the village and its people. And for a while, I would be in that different world. I would hear the distant sea, I would smell the huge old plane tree in the hot midday sunshine, listen to the zikadas chirping….
Ever since I was a little girl I had wished so much that I could have been there with him, back home, where he so much longed to be. How I wished that he could have stayed there, that I could have grown up there, in that stone house under the tall plane tree, his life of homesickness forgotten. This was the deep longing I had inherited, a longing for a place I had never even seen, a desire to lead a life I only knew from stories.
And slowly, as I closer, the picture in the mirror changed. The picture became more real, more tangible, just as I had always imagined it when grandfather had continued his endless story. Oh, the colours…. And the leaves, moving in the light summer breeze! How… real it looked! I wanted to lose myself in that image, that unknown and yet familiar place.
But wasn’t this a mirror? Where was my own image? Slowly a shadow emerged from the picture, blocking the view to the house…. a woman, rather blurry and transparent, like a ghost. ‘But this isn’t me?’, I wondered, and looked more closely. The figure became less blurry. No, this wasn’t me. The woman in the mirror looked a bit like me, but yet…. She was definitely a lot prettier than I am! “I’d love to have dark hair like she does!” I heard myself say enviously.
But this wasn’t me in my grandfather’s world? Why doesn’t she look like me? Who is she?
And slowly it dawned on me – if granddad had never left, he would never have met my gran! And then…. They wouldn’t have had my mother…. And yes, clearly my grandfather’s grandchild would not have been me. Why had I never thought about this? My grandfather’s dreams had always brought his family with him, back home to his old village. And would I really have been so happy? And what other dream would he have had to share with his granddaughter in those precious moments?
I wonder why the mirror did not simply show me what I had imagined, but revealed how this alternative reality would have differed from the dream. It’s as if the mirror wanted to say: ”be careful what you wish for!” There and then, while looking at this other me, my greatest desire became a mere dream. The mirror turned grey, as if it was waiting to be tuned to a new deepest desire, my very own, and no-one else’s.
At this point, I withdrew. I didn’t want the mirror to show me before I could find out for myself. And my grandfather’s dream? I still like to visit it now and then, as you revisit a favourite story – but I know now that sometimes it’s a good idea to hold on to one’s reality: I am pretty sure that now, the mirror would show a reflection which looks a lot more like me.
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 61
I pushed the final door open and saw a giant mirror facing me. I walked toward the mirror, seeing myself in the reflection, until I was close enough to read its frame: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. I smiled – I knew what that meant. But as I looked back down into the glass, I saw myself unchanged. Surely I wasn’t the happiest person alive?
Then, right in front of my befuddled expression floated a pink ribbon, existing only in the mirror. A pink ribbon? I became even more confused, but then it began coiling itself into a series of words – lyrics, I saw, when I began to read them:
Hagrid had a Fluffy dog, Fluffy dog, Fluffy dog.
Hagrid had a Fluffy dog, its three heads in a row.
I smiled again, remembering the song I had sung to Fluffy, what seemed ages ago. I sang along,
“Then one day Hagrid lent, Hagrid lent, Hagrid lent,
Then one day Hagrid lent his dog to Dumbledore.”
The ribbon disappeared in a flash, leaving the room filled with dense fog. When the fog cleared, the mirror showed me in a room surrounded by a harmless looking hedge. I recalled the textbook passage that got me through that challenge the first time:
“The hazy hedge uses a slow but sure method to capture its prey. When it senses a prey item in its vicinity (usually humans), it emits a puff of dense fog and then inches its way to the victim. The hedge moves so stealthily the victim has no clue it’s being attacked until it’s almost entirely engulfed by the plant.”
I glanced at my reflection and saw only a hand and a wand poking through the brambles. My mind skipped ahead to how to defeat the plant.
http://i259.photobucket.com/albums/hh317/sir_nicholas_de_mimsy/Trapdoorfinal1.jpg
“Beating the plant is easy enough. You only need to water it, and it will happily shrink back to its original position.”
As I finished remembering the escape method, my reflection was freed, but it immediately began looking around for something neither of us could see. I remembered this challenge as well: find the elusive key. This was one of the toughest challenges, since I was forced to remember the most trivial details about the most trivial aspects of magic. Only after I answered most of the questions correctly did the key magically appear (thankfully I didn’t have to figure out how the key appeared, otherwise I would never have gotten here).
I knew what was coming next, but I didn’t delight in the image of myself popping into a “chess piece.” I say “chess piece” because not only did I wind up as part pawn, but I incompletely transfigured myself into a badger as well! A badger-pawn-human doesn’t make a good combination, that’s for sure.
http://i259.photobucket.com/albums/hh317/sir_nicholas_de_mimsy/Trapdoorfinal2.jpg
I can’t even remember how I got out of that spot; all I know is that I now have a long white stripe down the middle of my hair.
Next thing I knew, my reflection was walking around grunting and stammering. I remember I had decided to impersonate both a troll and Professor Quirrel (he said he had a special gift with trolls – I figured how he talked was that gift!) to pass this next challenge. I stammered and grunted my way through an entire essay on why the Dark Arts exist, feeling like I had taken some Babbling Beverage:
“T-th-th-the D-d-d-ark *grunt* Arts ex-ex-ex-iiiiiiiiiiiist *long grunt* bec-c-ause *grunt* bec-c-ause *grunt* - people *grunt* like p-p-p-onies *grunt*….”
Little did I know that I would be taking a Babbling Beverage soon after as an antidote to the Draught of Silent Silence. The potions challenge was undoubtedly the hardest of all. I had to identify all the ingredients of the poison, figure out its effects (death, etc.), and then brew a proper Babbling Beverage! I’m no potioneer, and I think I survived that gulp of the Draught of Silent Silence mostly because I was in such a babbling mood anyway from the previous challenge!
But here, the Mirror of Erised went blank – just me standing in an old room. I didn’t need the Mirror anymore, though – it had done its job. It showed me that, despite all the horrors and near-death experiences these seven challenges had dealt me, I desired, above all else, the memories from these challenges and the understanding they gave me. With my hair discolored and my speech all of babbles, I knew I didn’t need to look into the mirror anymore, since my true desires lied within my very memory. I peeked at my reflection, just for confirmation, and it winked at me. The glass in the mirror disappeared, revealing a stone slide. I gathered up my memories and, with a wide smile, slid away from the dungeons through the trapdoor.
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 52
http://i581.photobucket.com/albums/ss254/neverendingparty/entry52.jpg
Category: Image Only
Entry 47
http://i581.photobucket.com/albums/ss254/neverendingparty/GuineaPigs042.jpg
The deepest and most desperate desire of my heart is to be this guinea pig.
When I look into her eyes I see nothing but contentment, a smiling grateful happiness whose only concern is the juiciness of the next carrot and whose days are spent soaking up the sun. She isn’t stressed by futile pastimes such as work and traffic; she has time to commit to the more important things in life, like reading last week’s newspaper that lines her hutch and conversing with her various guinea-companions about current events and the quality of dandelions. She’s even perfected the subtle art of eating while lying down, an ability that I believe everyone should strive to attain. As a guinea pig I would make the most of life and enjoy the slow paced living that only a well catered for, four-legged rodent can truly appreciate.
Also, I like having my tummy tickled.
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 41
http://i98.photobucket.com/albums/l254/whity22/FinalTask.jpg
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 28
Imagination, Come Alive
My heart's desire is for my imaginary world to become a reality:
http://img91.imageshack.us/img91/8224/contestentrymirrorfixjp.jpg
Category: Image Only
Entry 26
http://img2.imageshack.us/img2/3411/trapdoor7thtask.jpg
I will be a ballerina, to dance on my toes.
I will spin in the spotlight, it's hard work, I know. This is my dream, my desire the most.
To be a ballerina, the prima, I hope.
Category: Image Only
Entry 25
http://i581.photobucket.com/albums/ss254/neverendingparty/Finaltaskimage.jpg
"One can never have enough books.
People will insist on giving me thick, woollen socks." - me.
Category: Image Only
Entry 18
http://img142.imageshack.us/img142/9933/erised.gif
The mirror of Erised
My deepest desire,
Though it may sound cliché,
Is to go to Hogwarts,
And learn magic every day.
But before I went to Hogwarts,
I’d need to buy supplies,
And Diagon Alley’s got it all,
Like robes of every size.
Before I could buy anything,
Or go on a shopping spree,
I would need my gold,
And Gringotts is where it’d be.
So I’d walk up to the goblin,
And he’d ask me for my key,
Then we’d head down underground,
To vault five hundred & sixty-three.
After I’d retrieved some gold,
I would give the shops a try,
I’d take a look at my Hogwarts list,
And find what I should buy.
I would buy a magic wand,
From Mr. Ollivander,
Then I’d get potion supplies,
Like tails of salamanders.
Next I’d purchase my uniform,
At Madam Malkin’s shop,
Then I’d go to Eyelop's Owls,
Where the hooting doesn’t stop.
Later I’d go to Flourish & Blotts,
Where I’d find the books I’d need,
Then, I’d have all my supplies,
And my journey could proceed.
On September 1st I’d pack my trunk,
And head to King's Cross Station,
The whole time I’d be anxious,
For my magic education.
Platform nine & three quarters,
Would be packed with a crowd,
Screeching, hooting, talking,
It would be extremely loud.
The scarlet steam engine,
Called the Hogwarts Express,
Would be waiting to take me,
Away from the crowdedness.
After everyone found a compartment,
And we’d finally taken our seats,
A woman with a cart would ask,
If I wanted any sweets.
So I’d buy some Licorice Wands, Chocolate frogs,
And Drooble's Best Blowing Gum,
I’d also buy some Cauldron Cakes,
And devourer every last crumb!
When we’d finally arrived,
A strange sound would meet my ear,
It’d be a booming voice that shouted,
Firs’ years over here!
So I would follow Hagrid,
To some boats sitting by the shore,
And as I climbed in, I’d wonder,
What could be in store?
Once we crossed the lake,
And we reached the entrance hall,
We’d learn about the houses,
From Professor McGonagall.
Next, in the Great Hall,
We would see quite a sight,
Ghosts, floating all around,
Transparent & pearly-white.
We would stand up front,
So the sorting could begin,
And I’d start to wonder to myself,
What house would I be in?
Professor McGonagall,
Would start reading names from a scroll,
While students put on an old hat,
That’d be dirty as a troll.
As I placed the hat upon my head,
It’d be quiet as a mouse,
Then it’d open near the brim,
And shout out my house!
Next, the feast would start,
And there’d be lots of delicious food,
Roast chicken, pudding, steak, bacon,
And beef that had been stewed.
The next day I’d wake up,
And off to class I’d go,
I’d have classes like Herbology,
Where I’d make gillyweed grow.
Professor Sprout would be messy,
With a patched hat & fly-away gray hair,
She’d always be covered in dirt,
But she’d be kind, so I wouldn’t care.
Potions would be fun,
Mixing different stuff together,
Like fluxweed, mandrake seeds,
And powdered phoenix feather.
Snape would seem a bit mean,
But he’d just be misunderstood,
Down underneath it all,
He’d really be kind & good.
History of Magic would be interesting,
Learning about goblin riots & giant wars,
With all that violence & fighting,
The work would hardly seem like chores.
Transfiguration would be neat,
Changing all kinds of things,
Like an old, dirty, pair of boots,
Into a clock that sings.
Professor McGonagall,
Would be a little stern,
But that’d only be because she cared,
And wanted us to learn.
Care of Magical Creatures,
Would be wicked awesome,
Taking care of blast-ended skrewts,
And a fire breathing possum.
Hagrid would love huge monsters,
And he, himself, would be gigantic,
But don’t let that fool you,
He could also be romantic.
Charms would be a blast,
Learning spells like reparo & lumos,
With all the awesome stuff that you learn,
There’s nothing to make you doze.
Professor Flitwick would be small,
With a high & squeaky voice,
But when it comes to charms teachers,
He’d be my number one choice.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts,
I’d learn to defend myself from Inferi,
And that could come in handy,
‘Cause, man, those things are eerie.
All throughout the year,
My talents would increase,
I’d be smarter, faster, better,
My skills would never cease.
But, at the end of the year,
I’d sadly have to leave,
I’d miss all of my teachers & friends,
And maybe even peeves.
Although there’s a bright side,
It’s not as bad as you may fear,
‘Cause it’d only be one summer until,
I’d get to go back next year!
Category: Mixed Media
Entry 13
What is the deepest desire of my heart?
Now, there’s a good question! Oh, where do I start?
I wish I were not such a vain, shallow rotter,
That my dreams were as pure as that wretched boy Potter.
Alas, my true answer, banal and absurd,
Reminds me a lot of a tale I once heard:
A radio host in a country somewhere
Phoned foreign ambassadors and, live on air,
In the interests of spreading some seasonal cheer,
Asked what they wanted for Christmas that year.
The Spaniard said, “I would like peace in our time”;
The Frenchman, “An end to all violent crime”;
The German, “That all of the starving are fed”;
“That’s terribly kind,” the British one said,
And then he went on, to his shame so acute,
“I’d like a small basket of crystallised fruit.”*
That British ambassador’s kind of like me:
I know that a vision of close family
Is what I should see in the Erised glass,
But, alas, I’m a self-centred pain in the… neck.
Though I know it is clicheed and selfish and wrong,
In the words of that odious Nickelback song,
My desire (or, as posh people say, “Mah desar”)
Is :rockon:“I-I-I wanna be a rock star!”:rockon:
In my dreams, I’m an axegirl, a foxy rock chick,
A guitar virtuoso, who’d easily lick
All the hard bits in “Freebird” or “Stairway to Heaven”,
While in real life I struggle with D and A7.
I’m not just plain bad. It’s worse, can’t you see?
Even Posh Spice has more talent than me!
Though I’ve always sung as well as I could,
I’d probably make Paris Hilton sound good.
In my dreams, I can make my guitar weep and sing,
But, in truth, I’m not able to tune the darn thing!
While I’d love to play keyboards like Sir Elton John,
I even get “Chopsticks” abysmally wrong,
And although I would settle for being a drummer,
I have no sense of rhythm – now ain’t that a bummer!
But what I would see in the Erised frame
Is me in the Rock’n’Roll Great Hall of Fame,
Playing a fusion of rock, funk and blues,
Releasing an album to brilliant reviews,
Mounting the stage, while hundreds applaud,
To collect a most coveted Grammy Award,
Performing at festivals, mud everywhere,
To large crowds of crusties with dreadlocky hair
Who’d scream “Yes! We love you! Why don’t you play more?
We’ve bought the tour T-shirt. We beg you! Encore!”,
Jamming with….ah, well, I’d better not say.
Identities must not be given away.
If I named the musicians with whom I would jam,
It would be pretty obvious just who I am.
The names would provide the predictable answer,
Like Minchin for Druid or Depp for Freelantzer.
But I’d love to play with (and gain, what is more,
The respect of) the people whose songs I adore.
Sure, there would be other perks to my wish –
I could act like a diva and drink like a fish,
Trash my hotel rooms, have tantrums and rants,
Snog gorgeous, young roadies in tight leather pants,
Sign autographs for a besotted admirer,
Appear on the cover of National Enquirer.
But music itself is the thing I hold dear,
That “magic beyond all that we can do here”.
And so, mirror, mirror, (though not on the wall),
Make me the most potent witch of them all.
Give me the talent for which I so long,
Make me a legendary mistress of song.
I’m sure that for voters whose standards are tough,
My desire just won’t be HP-focused enough.
They’ll say, “Oh, dear me, your entry’s inferior!
It just doesn’t meet all my voting criteria!”
So, in desperate hope of quelling their queries,
I also wish Rowling would write a new series.
There! Happy now? I hope so. You see,
My real wish is everyone voting for me.
*This is actually based on a true story. The British Ambassador obviously completely missed the point of the exercise.
Category: Text Only
Entry 10
dnik eb ot nosaer a rof gnihcraes uoy era
Background information about the video:
This video clip is from a bollywood movie ‘Swades’. Mohan (played by Shahrukh Khan), a NRI (Non-Resident Indian), who works as an engineer at NASA returns to India after many years. During the course of his stay in India, he strictly drinks only mineral water because of his fear of falling sick otherwise.
Now the video:
We, the People!
yaaoCwncQiA
Description of the Video:
Somewhere in a village in northern India, a train brings the troubled protagonist Mohan Bhargava chugging to a halt at a godforsaken station. A little boy runs along screaming, "Water for 25 paise."
Mohan, who has never touched anything but mineral water in India, buys the water...
Notes:
(Approximate figures)
100 Paise= 1 Rupee.
50 Rupees= 1 Dollar.
So, 25 Paise= 1/200 of 1 Dollar.
Why, is this my Ultimate Desire?
Sure, like everybody else, I have many desires like buying a Ferrari, a Penthouse, traveling around the World, getting a dream job and even weird ones like licking the ‘Liberty Bell’ or finding out whether the ‘egg’ came first or the ‘chicken’ but they don’t come even close to being the ‘Ultimate One’. Making my parent’s proud of me is probably the only thing that comes somewhat close to this.
During my trip to Mumbai (Bombay) about 4-5 years ago, an incident occurred that left a deep and lasting impression on me. It was about 100 degrees Fahrenheit outside and the humidity was a soaking 85% and I was quite relieved to be sitting inside an air-conditioned car.
But as our car was heading to the Airport, I noticed several small children carrying earthen-vessels filled with water on top of their heads by the roadside, in the sweltering heat. None of them could have been more then 8 years old.
It was at that moment, I felt guilty. Guilty, for enjoying the comforts of an air-conditioned car when the children outside were battling not only the ‘Weather’ but also the weight of the vessels on top of their heads. There faces were pale. Too pale!
‘Fight against Poverty’ has become somewhat of a mission to me, especially when the people affected are small children. Before this incident, I was one of those cynics who thought that their contribution was on such a small-scale, that it wouldn’t make much of a difference to the society at all. But even the smallest of contributions is a contribution after all and hopefully, the contribution will only increase with time.
Snapshot:
http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll108/dejavu_1988/paani005_0001.jpg
Category: Original Video, Mixed Media
Entry 4
20/20 Regret
As I walked through the gate, I reflected on my time here at the venerable Hogwarts School and allowed myself a wistful smile. The grounds remained exactly the same, things hardly changing in the twenty years that had passed since I last left these hallowed grounds. I rounded a corner and beheld a view that had taken my breath away those long years ago, the mighty castle rising majestically over the Great Lake, the Gryffindor Tower calling to me, like some long lost friend.
In the distance, a tendril of smoke came from old Hagrid’s hut, reminding me that despite all that had happened through the years, the ever present grounds keeper was still on duty, still tending to the needs of the magical wildlife that inhabited the grounds. I stopped before the main doors with my hands on my hips and lost myself in the moment. In my chest, there was the rising tide of warmth that I’d associated with the school until the cold hand of guilt and regret overcame me and when I finally exhaled, it was as if I was releasing all the sentimentality I’d gathered up since stepping off the Hogwarts Express.
Twenty years is a long time to regret. Time enough to wonder if I’d made the right choices, followed the right path. I’d tried and failed at so many endeavors: career, love and fortune. I nearly didn’t come. I nearly didn’t accept the invitation from our class President. I’d been so completely immersed in my muggle existence, I nearly fell from shock when the large, gray owl alit on my office window and deposited the gilded parchment announcing the twentieth reunion of my Hogwarts class. When I showed the invitation to my wife, she enthusiastically endorsed the idea.
“Go.” She said, rather forcefully. “Find what you’ve lost. Me and the boys will still be here when you get back. Go and find your smile.”
Nearing forty, I wondered how I’d gotten here and how much of a failure I was, both to myself and my family. I’d wanted to be an Auror. I’d even passed all the exams, only to have it taken away from me because of a foolish choice. Leaving the Ministry, I’d wandered from occupation to occupation, finally settling in on a muggle profession that didn’t require the use of my knowledge of magic. I’d met my wife and we’d had two children, and had created a life that was safe and secure.
But every so often, I’d find myself fiddling with my wand, chasing dark wizards in the back of my brain, and wondering if I’d squandered the gift I’d been granted by birth. This return to Hogwarts was both a blessing and a curse for the same reason. It reminded me of who I was before.
When I entered the castle, I spied a familiar flash of red hair. It was Charlie Weasley, a fellow Gryffindor from my year. Charlie looked so confident, so self assured and he waved at me, the confident smile still plastered on his face. When I didn’t return the smile, his face grew calm and he gestured for me to come close.
“My friend, you need to see the truth. Go to the Room of Requirement and find the truth. Then you’ll be ready for the party.” He pushed me on my way, and I didn’t argue.
I remembered the way, and soon I was inside the room. It was like I remembered, cluttered and musty. What would I possibly find here? In the center of the room was a mirror, THE mirror. I approached it. What would I see? Me in Auror’s robes, alongside the girl I didn’t have the nerve to ask to the Yule ball? Would I be rich? Successful? I was almost afraid to see what my life should have been.
I peered into the mirror and felt myself stop breathing. The mirrored, oval surface reflected an image I had not expected. The reflection was me, as I was today, standing alongside my wife and children with a broad smile on my face. I was living my perfect life. I chuckled. All that I needed in life was the reflection of how good things were. The man I saw in the mirror was the man I was, without the guilt and without the regret. The mirror reflects a person’s greatest desire. I only needed to realize that I was already living that life.
I turned to leave the room, my face in a permanent smile and ready for the future.
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Entry 1
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