The frame hadn't appeared to hear him at all.
Frowning, Harry stepped back and thought over the times he'd forced the frame to do his bidding. Show me Mrs. Parkinson had worked well enough, and the time before that, it had been the words Show me Draco that had done the trick, once he'd figured out that he had to use wanded magic. So why wasn't it working again?
What did those times have in common that this one didn't?
The grounds, Harry abruptly realised. The sodding frame was supposed to show Draco the grounds so he wouldn't feel too cooped up down here. The funeral had been outside on the lawn... Draco had been hexed and then abandoned out of doors...
And the Board of Governors meeting, wherever it was, certainly wouldn't take place outside!
Harry could have groaned, and that was before the rest of it came to him. Hadn't Snape said that that castle walls themselves were warded against this sort of thing? There were protections in place so that spying spells didn't really function... Snape had been astonished by the Marauders' Map precisely because Sirius and James and Remus had somehow found a way to circumvent those powerful safeguards...
All right, Harry reasoned. Obviously, there was a way around Hogwarts' wards, and James... his father... had known what it was. Too bad he didn't have the map; maybe he could use it to somehow cajole the frame into looking inside the castle instead of out. Even if he went and broke into Snape's office, though, Harry doubted he would find the map. His guess was that the headmaster still had it as part of his ongoing investigation into who had really killed Pansy Parkinson.
So that was that, then.
Except, it wasn't, because in the next instant Harry realised that he did have something he could use.
The mirror... the mirror that Sirius had given him. He still remembered the note that had come with it, word for word. This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other one of the pair. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.
And detentions usually took place inside the castle, didn't they? Not always, but usually... which meant that the mirror, like the map, had some way to get around the fact that Hogwarts' walls were spelled to repel inquisitive magic.
Excitement thrummed through Harry as he lifted the lid of his trunk. Thank goodness Snape had insisted he leave some things behind! Harry was more grateful than ever for that. He fished through his things, his hand occasionally slipping into wizardspace. Where was the mirror? He was sure he hadn't brought it up to the Tower.
Finally he spotted the Gryffindor scarf he'd wrapped it in on Sunday when he'd been deciding what to leave behind. Good, so there was still a chance---
His excitement, though, died quickly as he unwrapped the small, square mirror and saw his face jaggedly reflected in the shards that now filled the frame. Sirius, he thought, icy tentacles wrapping around his heart and squeezing hard. Oh God. Sirius.
He'd avoided looking in the mirror for months and months, ever since that awful day when he'd realised it couldn't help him reach a man beyond the Veil, because he'd known it would be like this. He'd known that pain would wash across him until he couldn't breathe. All at once he had more sympathy for Draco. Not that he'd been unsympathetic before, but now, with his own grief as fresh and raw as though Sirius had died but yesterday, Harry had a better sense of just how Draco must be feeling about Pansy's death... right down to the conviction that what had happened to her was all his fault.
Gritting his teeth hard, Harry dragged his gaze away from the broken mirror. It came to him that eyes were aching, but it was nothing like the pain he'd felt on Samhain. This pain was almost worse; it went all the way to the bottom of his soul. Heaving in a deep breath, one that seemed to sear his lungs, Harry wiped at his eyes, a little surprised to find glasses in the way. He hadn't got used to wearing them again, obviously.
It was an effort, but after a moment, he managed to get himself under control.
It was thoughts of Draco and Sirius that did it, really. Blacks, both of them, but neither one black at heart. If Sirius had lived, he'd be proud of Draco by now; Harry just knew it.
But if Sirius had lived, a little voice whispered in his mind, Severus wouldn't be your father, so Draco wouldn't be your brother. Sirius would have been with you at Grimmauld Place after the operation, and Remus might not have gone out for ice cream. You might never have been captured by Lucius Malfoy at all, and without that spectacle of seeing you stand strong while his father crawled like a worm, Draco would probably still be siding with Voldemort. Severus wouldn't be his father either...
It came to Harry then that thoughts like that weren't helpful. He could spin the story all the way back to the beginning, too, and get angry that Sirius had suggested Pettigrew be the Secret Keeper, but what good would that do?
What was, was.
Sirius couldn't be here to be proud of Draco, but Harry was here, and he was proud, and if the mirror could help him see how Draco was holding up in that hearing, then he wasn't going to let grief get in the way.
Of course, he didn't have the faintest clue if this would work; all he knew was that it was worth a try.
Harry gingerly picked out a shard of mirror, holding it so it wouldn't cut him. He didn't even want to think about what a drop of blood mixed in might do to the untested wanded magic he was about to perform. He also didn't want to think about what his father would say if he found out about a stunt like this. Combining magical artefacts was a tricky business, and when you added in dark powers as well... shivering, Harry couldn't help but think twice about the course he'd set. Did he really want to do this?
Yes, he did.
His wand angled as before, Harry pressed the shard of mirror flat into the wall in the middle of the picture frame, right onto the image of the Whomping Willow's stout trunk. And then he tried again, his voice a low hiss of demand as he stared at his ring.
"Show. Me. Draco."
The wall before him dissolved, a familiar sight by then, but this time, the scene before him was of a hallway, Draco and Snape walking along. Strangely, Harry's view was from behind. The scene shifted to follow them as they walked on, Snape's step brisk while Draco's was rather laconic. Probably an effect of the calming draught.
They stopped outside a doorway, Snape laying a hand on Draco's shoulder when the boy made a move as though to throw the double doors open. From a deep pocket in his formal robes, the Potions Master drew forth a wand and placed it in the boy's hand. Draco nodded, understanding written clearly across his face. He needed his old wand with him because if the Governors voted against him, he would have to surrender it.
Harry felt sick at heart just imagining that.
"Remember, Draco. Confidence, not arrogance," Snape said, his voice determined as he settled a hand atop Draco's thin shoulder.
Harry stumbled back in shock, his thoughts going into a whirl. The frame is a viewing plane only... It will never allow you to hear...
But apparently it would, when it was magically mixed with Sirius' mirror.
Harry supposed that made some sort of sense. Well, considering it was magic. The mirror, as Sirius had explained it, had been able to transmit sound, so now the enchanted picture frame could do the same. Harry nodded, coming to terms with it.