It happened at twilight.
Blaise was in the observatory — pacing, muttering, reworking sigils on parchment.Trying to find a spell strong enough to sever the Mirror's grasp without shattering reality.
Then everything froze.
The candles. The wind. The light itself.
A voice echoed from the shadows:
"You always hated prophecy.
You always wanted to burn fate."
Blaise spun.
And there it was:
The Mirror.Not physically — but a projection, hovering like a hovering specter, layered over every surface.
And it was speaking only to him.
The Mirror's Offer
"You are not second to him.""You are not a footnote to the Boy Who United."
"You were Flame before he was Hope."
"Come, Blaise Zabini. Sit the throne. Burn the rest. Begin the age of fire."
A vision formed:
A Hogwarts lit in crimson — not destroyed, but reforged.
Students thriving in chaos.Wands replaced by fire-marked hands.
Blaise leading from the head of a flame-crowned table.
And beside him, someone unexpected:
Pansy.
Her mirror-self.
Powerful. Smiling. Marked with the symbol of Wrath.
Blaise's Choice
He whispered:
"Is that the world I could lead?"
The Mirror answered:
"It's the world only you could survive."
Silence.
Then Blaise stepped forward.
Touched the vision.
And set it on fire.
Back in the Real World
The observatory exploded in magical heat — but didn't burn.
Instead, a new sigil appeared across Blaise's hand:
A flame within a ring of unity.
He collapsed to his knees.
Rowan caught him.
"You said no."
He whispered:
"I said yes to something else."