When Ron woke up the next morning, Harry pulled them both aside and told them all about the secret mirror that showed him his family.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Ron demanded, looking dismayed. "If Reva was already up, we could have gone then!"
Reva and Harry exchanged a look. They had needed to air out the truth about their family first, and neither of them particularly regretted it. They'd both gone to sleep right there in the common room, in front of the fire. Reva had taken the couch Ron wasn't occupying, and Harry had nabbed one of the armchairs to curl up. The three first years hadn't roused until Percy Weasley came bustling down with all the subtlety of a baby elephant learning to walk.
"Well, I am going back tonight, if the two of you want to join me," Harry said, after the three of them had gotten dressed and met back downstairs. His eyes were gleaming with a strange light, and Reva figured, not unsympathetically, that he must be hungry for another chance to see his parents.
"Of course!" Reva said immediately.
"Sounds like fun," Ron added as they made their way down to the Great Hall.
"And you can show us your whole family!" Harry said to Ron. "And Reva, I only saw the English side of mine, you know, my mum's folks. I'd really love to see—"
"The brown ones?" Reva finished with a grin. "Sure thing. I've only ever seen one picture of my mum's parents and siblings anyway." At Harry's downcast expression, she nudged him. "Hey, you've still got me and Mum!"
He brightened considerably at that. "I've been meaning to ask… do you know how our family got here? I mean, Potter is a British name, isn't it?" His eyes glowed with longing and interest, and Reva realized with dawning horror that he must have been so isolated, as a brown child living with white relatives who hated him. If his aunt and uncle were the type of Muggles to hate anything unusual, surely they were the type to hate immigrants, too? Her heart ached for her friend, wondering what abuses he was subject to on account of his race.
"It is," said Ron, but he too looked at Reva for an explanation.
"I'm not a Potter," she reminded him, brow furrowing. "I mean, I know the general history of Wizarding India, and I know a bit about famous English Purebloods, but you might want to ask my mum for the specifics."
"I will," said Harry impatiently, his eyes hungry for information. "But what do you know?"
She took in a deep breath. "Well, Harry, the Potters are an old English Pureblood family, that much is true—but there's a reason they were labeled blood traitors. You see, in the early 1700s, British Purebloods had already started invading South Asia—"
"I thought that started later!" Harry exclaimed.
"Oh, I suppose it did start later, for the Muggles," Reva said, brow furrowed in thought. "I'll ask my mum about it. Or Hermione, she might know. Anyhow, colonial expansion was what separated modern day blood traitor Pureblood families from the likes of, say, the Malfoys, or the Selwyns. If I'm not mistaken, the Potters took an outspoken stance against colonization, as did the Shafiqs, Weasleys, and Abbotts. These, by the way, are the oldest 'blood traitor' families." She winked at Ron, who grinned unabashedly. "The Shafiqs led the anti-colonial movement, and they and the Potters offered help to rebels in South Asia while the Weasleys and Abbotts fought it in the British Ministry."
"And then what happened?"
Reva frowned. "Well, far as I can tell, many of the Potters met and fell in love with Indian, or perhaps what is now Pakistani, witches and wizards. Each generation thereafter identified more and more with their South Asian roots. Yes, there was certainly some white saviorism involved, and the Potter family wasn't entirely innocent when it came to the racism of it all; but there you are, that dark history is part of both our roots. At any rate, by the time the British left and Partition happened, the Potters were an entirely brown family."
"The '40s…" Harry frowned. "That would have been around the time my grandparents met, right?"
"Yeah." Ron answered this time. Both Reva and Harry turned to look at him with surprise. His ears reddened. "Oh, come on, most Wizarding families know that Fleamont Potter was the first Potter to attend Hogwarts in one hundred and fifty years, and he attended school in the '30s!"
"I didn't," Reva said mildly, but felt thankful for that little tidbit anyway. "That's the Potters, at any rate, as far as I know. I can ask Mum for more detailed information—or you can, if you want." She smiled at Harry, just as they entered the Great Hall.
"What about my gran?" He asked suddenly. "That would be your mum's aunt, yeah?"
Reva beamed, happy to be able to fill him in. "This I do know, actually! Your gran grew up in the South, and she met your dad when he came home to visit some family. They fell in love and got married, and she went back to England with him. I can tell you more about her side of the family, but I think Mum would certainly be better equipped to inform you there."
That seemed to be enough for Harry at the moment, because his eyes brightened and he said, "I can't believe I have real family now, Reva."
Reva's heart just about shattered at that; even at eleven, she knew they were young, and she knew it was awful that Harry had been cut off and forced away from his culture.
"Of course you do," she said gently. "If your dad was the cousin my mum grew up with, he was more like a brother to her. That makes us more than second cousins, you know. I'm glad we're related, and not just because you're Harry Potter, but because we're friends."
Harry grinned, his eyes lit up with joy and belonging. Reva had to swallow the lump in her throat at just how much an affirmation that she was happy to be his family clearly meant to him. Had he never before felt loved, like people cared about him?
"Anyway," said Ron, mind seemingly where Reva's was as they all sat down, "Speaking of siblings, you both can always meet all of mine if you come over to my place this summer."
"Can't," said Reva ruefully, spreading butter over a slice of toast, "I'm grounded because of all the detentions I've gotten."
Ron made a face at her words as he began to bite into some bacon. "The whole summer?"
"Pretty much," Reva sighed. "Mum wants me to help out on the farm." Then she grinned. "But that means my punishment isn't going to change no matter what I do now. Might as well continue sneaking around at night to look for Flamel."
"That's the spirit," Ron chortled. His eyes slid to her left, and the amusement on his face was chased away by confusion. "Harry, are you okay?"
Reva glanced over at her cousin. "Hey," she said slowly, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"
Harry was staring into space, his gaze burning a hole into the table. "Hm?" He said. "Oh—I'm alright."
Reva and Ron exchanged a puzzled, mildly concerned glance.
"Alright, mate," Ron said. "But you're acting a bit odd."
Harry didn't answer. The glow in his eyes that Reva had spotted as she talked to him about family seemed to become stronger, almost hungrier, and for a brief moment she thought it might consume him.
That night, Harry, Ron, and Reva huddled under the Cloak. Because Harry didn't remember where in the castle this mirror was, they made their way to the library first so he could try and retrace his steps. Because they all had to go together so the Cloak didn't slip off, it took nearly twice as long to get there. Ron was already growing impatient, and Harry snapped at him a couple of times to just be quiet and wait. Privately, Revati agreed with Ron that this was all very unnecessary, and why couldn't they wait until daylight again? but she didn't dare contradict an already peevish Harry, especially when he was so emotionally attached in the situation. She understood where he was coming from—she supposed that were she in his shoes, she'd do anything to see her parents, too.
"Are you sure we—" Ron started.
"Shh!" Harry hushed, then his eyes lit up. "Yes, there it is!" He ran to a rather nondescript door and pulled the others through; once they were in, Harry tugged the coat off and went to face a mirror. Reva watched, bemused, as he grinned at it.
"There you are, see?" He asked proudly.
"Mate, all I see is you," Ron said slowly.
"He's right, Harry, we can't see anyone else, it's just your reflection." Reva added.
Harry's expression dimmed for a moment, before his brow cleared. "Well, maybe you have to be in front of it. Come where I'm standing."
Reva and Ron exchanged a glance, and Reva went up ahead first. She approached the mirror, standing in the exact spot her cousin had been just seconds before. She stared for a moment, brow furrowing as longing raced through her.
"Well?" Harry asked impatiently. "Do you see your family?"
"No," Reva said, transfixed. "Well, sort of—I see you and my mum and Uncle Moony, but there's someone else there. I don't think I've ever seen him before in my life."
"What does he look like?"
"Er—tall," she said. "And handsome. He's got dark hair, it's long and slightly wavy… he's smiling, too—and so is my mum!" She gaped. Her mother loved her dearly, she knew, and she'd smiled before, obviously, but never like this—never this free, open, unworried grin that took over her entire face. "She looks happy, happier than I've ever seen her. We all do. I think—I think she's stopped working for the Ministry, too! We're still on the farm, but Mum's got her Gobbledegook dictionary out. I think she's finally working in Inter-Species diplomacy like she's always wanted!"
Revati took in the scene for a second longer. It wasn't just her mother who looked like she'd been completed; Uncle Moony looked relaxed and calm in a way she'd never seen before, no trace of the usual stress and wear on his face. Harry and she were standing together, joyful, as if they'd grown up together. And the mystery man… who was he?… beamed out at Revati, his grey eyes dancing with joy.
Revati stumbled back, swallowing hard as tears pricked her eyes. Was this what her mum looked like happy? What all her family looked like happy? And if that was the case, was that man, that stranger grinning back at her… was that her dad?
She stared at him in shock. Yes, they had the same jawline, the same aristocratic cheekbones… her hair, while thick like her mothers, curled the way his did, and she saw that smile in her baby pictures, and when she looked in the mirror in the girls' dorms.
So this was her father.
She stepped back abruptly, unable to take it anymore. Tears stung at her eyes, and the longing she felt at what she'd seen mixed with bitter anger in her chest.
"You alright?" Ron asked.
"Yeah." Reva managed, even though no, no she was not. She gestured for the ginger to take her place.
"Do you see your family, too?" Harry asked Ron. He seemed confused that Reva hadn't seen generations of family, like he did, but Reva figured the mirror probably showed the viewer something they didn't know about their family. Harry hadn't known what they looked like, and Reva didn't know what they looked like happy.
Pushing that unpleasant thought out of her head, she focused on Ron, who was gaping at his reflection.
"It's just me!" He exclaimed. "But blimey, I'm Head Boy! And—look at that, Quidditch Captain, too!"
That immediately took out Reva's theory about it being family based, then.
Ron swallowed, and his voice took on a hopeful note. "Do you two think… well, maybe this mirror shows the future!"
For a split-second, Reva thought (hoped) that he was right, but Harry shook his head bitterly.
"Can't be. Most of my family is dead, remember?"
Reva winced.
"Let me have another look," Harry said impatiently, trying to nudge Ron out of the way.
"But you had it all last night—"
"You're just holding a stupid cup, I get to see my parents—"
"Shut up, both of you!" Revati hissed suddenly, hearing footsteps outside. Ron, thinking quickly, threw the Invisibility Cloak over all three of their heads, and it was just in time. Mrs. Norris poked her head through the doorway, and the three first years held their breath as she stared through them. Finally, she left, and Harry tugged the cloak off of them.
"We ought to go," Reva said in a low voice, "That was a close call."
The boys agreed, Harry more reluctantly than Ron, and the three Gryffindors pulled the cloak back over their heads and trudged all the way back to the Tower. None of them spoke, which honestly was rather difficult, because Revati would do anything for a distraction right about now. Her mind was racing, and she felt quite overwhelmed.
She'd never realized how unhappy her mother and Uncle Moony were until that moment. Well, not unhappy, exactly—just not entirely happy. She'd never seen that open smile on her mother's face, her eyes lit up with carefree joy, every inch of her just bursting with happiness. Her mother's smiles, nowadays, were gentle and quiet, full of indulgent love but tinged with a sadness Revati hadn't recognized until now. And her Uncle Moony—he was always worn out and stressed around the full moon, and she'd always attributed his melancholy to that, but it seemed now that he was missing something else, something more.
She felt like a horrible daughter. How could she have missed, for the first eleven years of her life, that the two adults in her life who she loved more than anyone else was less than happy? She longed for this future, where her mum got the job she wanted and Uncle Moony had that open grin on his face all the time, and she and Harry spent summers together on the farm, and her father…
Envy and guilt mingled together as she thought about that man, who must be her father. She'd never wanted to meet him before, never wanted to know who he was. She'd sworn she felt nothing more than casual indifference towards him. Why was he here, now, in this future version of her family? Why did her heart race as she saw him? Why did she feel a sort of longing to hear him laugh, or say he was proud of her? She'd always resented him for leaving her mother; was it disrespectful to Anjali to secretly want the chance to know her father?
Reva's stomach turned. This was something that she hadn't known, until this very moment, that she wanted. And now that she'd seen it, she wanted it so, so badly, all of it. She wanted Harry to leave his horrible relatives and live with her and her mother; she wanted Uncle Moony to be happy and feel no guilt or self-hatred for being a werewolf; she wanted her mother to get the job of her dreams and find happiness; and, to her increasing guilt, she wanted desperately to meet her father, even though she knew he'd abandoned her and Anjali both.
Reva swallowed. Was this a betrayal to her mother? How could she ever tell her mum that she wanted to meet her dad? Wouldn't that make her feel like Reva didn't want her anymore?
By the time the three silent first years got back to the common room, Reva was certain of only one thing: that mirror was trouble.
Harry went up to the boys' dorm with barely a word to the other two, but Revati was sure it was less from anger or bitterness and more because of the intense emotions he must have been feeling at the sight of his parents. He seemed distracted, terribly sad but intensely glad to see his parents for the first time. Ron made to follow him up, but Reva grabbed at his shirt sleeve and held him back. Harry didn't seem to notice, and Reva waited until his footsteps no longer echoed through the common room before she spoke.
"Ron, I don't like that mirror." She shook her head. Ron shifted uncomfortably.
"Me neither," he confessed. "I did at first, y'know, when I was looking at it, but then I remembered something my dad always says: 'never trust anything that thinks if you can't tell where it keeps its brain.'" He shook his head. "That mirror somehow knew things about us, it knew what to show us to keep us staring at it."
"Why is it at this school?" Wondered Revati. "Surely it's dangerous?"
Ron snorted. "Why is anything dangerous kept in this school?" He asked rhetorically. "We have Fluffy the three headed dog, whatever it is that Flamel and Dumbledore are hiding, and don't forget Snape." He yawned. "I'm going to bed. Hopefully tomorrow we can talk Harry out of going back—I bet it'll be difficult work, he's a stubborn bloke. Goodnight, Reva."
"Goodnight," Reva replied automatically, but her mind was whirring. Something about Ron's offhand remark bothered her—yes, the mirror was dangerous like Fluffy and the Gringotts package were (and don't even get her started on that old bat Snape)—but what were all those things doing at a school for children?
(content warning: mentions of transphobia)
first of all, i just want to say that i 100% stand with and support the trans community. author or not, rowlings comments were despicable, inappropriate, dangerous, and wildly misinformed, and trans/nonbinary/fluid folx deserve a lot better.
it was for that reason that i have wondered about posting more harry potter fanfictions; i cannot and will not support an author who, after writing two cis male characters spending time innocently in a girls bathroom doing nothing wrong, refuses to afford trans/nonbinary/fluid people the same dignity. this woman literally afforded more leeway to her two fictional cis male protagonists than she does to actual living people, and that is unacceptable.
that being said, i ultimately decided to continue writing for this fandom for a few reasons, some of them personal and others general. i do not want to center myself at ALL, as i am a cis woman, so if you wish to know my reasoning (both personal and general!) please reach out and i will reply honestly! the most important reason, however, i will explain, and that is the following: fanfiction is and has always been a way for us to represent often unseen members of society. i will be using my fanfictions to uplift and highlight protagonists and characters who reflect that representation, because we all should belong in this world, even if people like rowling want to erase certain faces.
if you identify as trans, nonbinary, fluid, or anything else that does not fit the gender binary or biological sex propaganda, and you feel like you can no longer read for this fandom, i absolutely respect that and send you all of my love as we part ways. i do love you. i do respect you. i do see you.
i'm aware that some of you might disagree with me entirely, either in my continued writing for the fandom, or in my stance that rowling was wrong. if the former, please reach out to me! so far i haven't spoken to anyone that remains uncomfortable with fanfiction, so long as that fanfic makes an effort to include the voices cut out from the books. however, as i do have cis privilege, i know that my stance might be inherently flawed or destructive to the trans community; and if that is the case, i will take action.
if, however, you feel like i'm being too harsh on rowling, that's something that will not change. you may choose to stop reading this story for that reason, and if that is the case, goodbye.
-bb