Harry held in a laugh. Enola's wand work required utter stillness, so Harry simply stayed silent and considered his reflection in the mirror, and the smashed features that sneered back at him. His broken gaze traced the entire length of that ugly, jagged, angry canyon splitting his face in two from temple to chin, robbing him of his right eye, his nose, setting his mouth into a permanent snarl. A face not even a mother could love. Who was he kidding? Hermione would be just as horrified of him as the rest of the world.