To Reva's relief, she and Ron didn't have to do much convincing. After one more night in front of the mirror, Harry himself decided to let it go. He murmured a quick explanation when the other two asked him about it, but aside from 'Dumbledore' and 'living,' which didn't really help either of them understand, he kept pretty much mum on the subject.

The rest of the holidays passed quickly, and soon enough the next term arrived. Hermione, who needed to be caught up on the major developments (namely, Harry and Revati being cousins, and their unsuccessful attempts at finding Nicholas Flamel), had begun investigating with a new vigor. Both she and Harry felt certain that they'd heard of Flamel before, but Ron and Reva (ironically the two who had grown up in the Wizarding world) had no clue. Though the four of them spent hours pouring over books in their free time, it was to no avail—Nicholas Flamel was simply not there.

On top of everything else, Revati was dealing with the sadness she felt over what she'd seen in that mirror. She couldn't believe her mum and uncle were so unhappy, and that she'd never seen it before. She felt a wave of fierce love for them, and the way they tried to mask it for her sake, and as she'd literally never seen them as happy as they had been in the mirror, she hadn't realized how sad they both clearly were.

More importantly, she felt crushing guilt over wanting to meet her dad. She'd never thought she wanted that before, always content to say she didn't need him. But now that she'd seen him in that reflection, she longed for the chance to at least meet him. She hadn't told a soul about it, not even Hermione, who knew more than the boys how bitterly she'd felt about her father.

So the weeks passed, and Reva acted as if she was fine, even though her stomach churned with turmoil. Eventually, classes started up again, and she had a load of distractions to keep her mind busy.

It was late January when Harry came back to the common room after Quidditch practice in a foul mood and with fouler news. Ron, who was kicking Hermione's butt at chess, barely looked up from the game, but Harry paid him no mind as he stormed in, covered head to toe in dirt and grime.

"Snape's refereeing the next game," he groaned as he dropped onto the couch next to Revati. She gave him a dirty look as he accidentally splashed mud on her sweater, but it soon faded as she processed his words.

"What?" She gaped. "Can he even do that? Isn't there a clear conflict of interest?"

"Technically not, as we're facing Hufflepuff," said Harry gloomily.

"But you can always count on that old bat to find a way to be biased," grumbled George Weasley as he and Fred passed behind the first years to their dorms, presumably to shower.

Hermione looked horrified. "But Harry," she said in a low, worried voice, "He'll be trying to hurt you! Don't play."

"Tell them you're sick," Ron suggested.

"Pretend you've got an injury," Hermione added.

"Actually injure yourself," Ron told him.

"Here's a better idea," Revati joined in, scowling, "Injure Snape."

Ron nodded vigorously, but Hermione let out a scandalized gasp of "Reva!"

"Can't do any of that," Harry said heavily. "There's no Reserve Seeker."

The portrait hole opened and Neville hopped in. He'd been hit with a Leg-Locker Curse from Draco Malfoy, and after Hermione performed the counter curse, the four of them spent a bit of time comforting the poor boy.

"Listen, Malfoy's just a big bully," Revati said soothingly. "He practically has to buy his friends, doesn't he? It's not really as if Crabbe and Goyle stick around him for his winning charm or lovely personality."

"You're worth twelve of him, anyway, Neville," said Ron.

Neville was still flushed with embarrassment, but he didn't look quite so miserable. "You really think so?" He asked.

"'Course we do!" Ron said. "I mean, look at you, you're in Gryffindor! Meanwhile, Malfoy's literally living in the dungeons."

"Besides, the reason he picks on you is because—"

"I'm an easy target," Neville interrupted gloomily. "I know, you don't have to tell me."

Reva raised an eyebrow. "I was going to say it's because he knows you're far more likeable than him. You don't have to try to make friends, Neville, people enjoy spending time with you. Malfoy's just jealous."

"Yeah?" Neville asked hopefully.

"Yeah." Chorused Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Reva together.

Harry offered him a Chocolate Frog. Neville accepted the candy gratefully, but tossed the card back to Harry, who glanced down absently at the famous wizard on it.

Revati had only been half paying attention to that particular interaction, trying instead to recall a Pimple Jinx from the book Uncle Moony had sent her for Christmas that she could use on Malfoy, but she looked up when Harry gave a little cry of, "I found Flamel!"

"What?" Revati asked.

"It says here that Dumbledore worked on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel," Harry explained excitedly. "I knew I'd read his name before—it was on the train ride here, remember, Ron?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ron exclaimed, eyes widening. "Dumbledore was the first Chocolate Frog card you opened! Flamel's an alchemist, then, huh?"

"Oh, of course!" Hermione shrieked. Without another word, she got up and raced to their dorms, coming back down with a giant book Reva recognized from her bedside table. Hermione had checked it out in early November or so, along with Quidditch Through The Ages (which she gave to Harry).

"Hermione—"

"Hush!" Hermione shushed Ron, who looked quite disgruntled. She began flipping through the pages, muttering to herself, before finally letting out a triumphant "Aha!" as she stopped at one section in particular.

"Look," she said, jabbing a finger at the page. "It says here that Nicholas Flamel is the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone!"

Reva's brow furrowed. She'd heard of the Philosopher's Stone before, but only in old fairy tales. "Isn't that… a legend? You mean to say that it actually exists?"

"Of course it does!" Hermione said, scandalized. "Mind you, there are only a few mentions of it here and there, as I suppose the Ministry and Alchemist Association of Great Britain would like to keep it as quiet as possible, but it's not exactly a secret—just well hidden."

"Hang on, back up a bit: what is a Philosopher's Stone?" Ron asked. Harry looked similarly confused.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, don't the two of you ever read?" She turned the book around and shoved it towards them. Harry and Ron bent their heads over it, reading silently.

"So that's what Snape's after!" Harry said.

"Well, who wouldn't want something like that?" Ron pointed out reasonably. "Turns metal to gold? Bet something like that comes in handy."

"Not to mention an Elixir of Life," Reva added grimly.

The Philosopher's Stone was all any of them could talk about until the end of the week, when Harry told the three of them in low tones that he was going to play in the match, anyway. "I haven't really got a choice," he said. "Like I said, there isn't a Reserve Seeker, and if we win against Hufflepuff it'll put us in the finals against Slytherin."

Revati rolled her eyes. "You know your life is more important than Quidditch, right?"

Harry gave her a look. "I thought you'd be all about standing up to Snape," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Or did I just imagine it when you lost twenty points yesterday for telling him he was bullying Neville?"

Ron snorted. "He's got you there, Reva," he said.

Hermione, though, was on the same page as Revati. "Are you sure you want to play, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Harry determinedly. "Yeah, I do."

"I only wish there was something we could do to help keep Snape off your back," Ron mused.

That was when Revati had her first brilliant idea.

She waited until Harry left for practice the next evening before bringing it up with Ron and Hermione.

"We should practice hexes to use on Snape in case he tries to hurt Harry again," she said with no preamble as soon as the portrait hole swung shut behind her cousin.

Hermione bit her lip, but Ron's eyes lit up.

"Brilliant idea!" He said. "Bonus points if we can use them on Malfoy."

"Really, Ron," Hermione chastised, but she nodded at the two of them. "I suppose it would be good to know a few jinxes, particularly if Snape really is refereeing."

"Excellent," Revati grinned. "Then I suppose we'd better get practicing."

By the weekend of the match, Reva, Hermione, and Ron were experts at the Leg-Locker Jinx, the same one Malfoy had used on Neville, and the Pimple Jinx, which, when used, caused a number of rather painful boils to erupt on the victim's face.

(They'd also realized that they needed to know the counter-curses, which they learned the hard way when Ron's chin erupted with a series of large pustules that he couldn't touch without wincing.)

But the three of them had mastered the jinxes and their counter spells, and on the Saturday morning of the match, they marched to the Gryffindor stands with identical looks of determination plastered on their faces, all three tightly clutching their wands.

"Remember, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermione reminded Revati and Ron for the millionth time.

"We know," Reva said tightly.

"Stop nagging," Ron added, frowning. "Bit rich coming from you, isn't it? You weren't too keen on hexing Snape earlier this week."

"Well—" Hermione started to protest, but Reva cut in, narrowing her eyes.

"He looks awfully angry, doesn't he?" She said, gesturing to Snape in the Quidditch pitch down below as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams made their way out of the locker rooms. "I mean, I've never seen him so…" She searched for the word.

"Snarly?" Ron offered.

"Sure," Revati agreed.

Hermione leaned forward as the whistle blew. "Oh, they're off!" She gasped.

"Hey!" Ron yelped as something cuffed him around the head.

Revati looked up to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing behind them, all three smirking cruelly as they watched the match before them.

"Sorry, Weasley," Drawled Malfoy, "I didn't see you."

"Get lost, Malfoy," Revati snapped. She looked back down at the game—Alicia had scored ten points, and the Quaffle was in Hufflepuff possession. As she watched, Ron's brother George hit a Bludger at Snape, who called for a penalty.

"I was under the impression that it was a free country, Kumar," said Malfoy.

"Bit ironic coming from you, isn't it? We both know that if your folks had anything to say about it, the country would be under a fascist regime trying to commit a genocide against Muggles," Reva hissed.

Hermione flinched, and Ron looked over at her sharply, eyebrows raised appraisingly. Neville Longbottom, who was sitting next to Dean and Seamus in the row in front of them, whirled around to face Reva with wide eyes.

Malfoy was silent behind her for about ten seconds, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and extremely ugly.

"I'd watch it if I were you, Kumar. After all, my family is yours, too."

"What are you babbling about, Malfoy?" Reva asked impatiently. "As if I could ever be cursed with a blood relation to you."

"Is that so?" Malfoy sneered. "Well, then, it might interest you to know that you are just as closely related to me as you are to poor, parentless Potter, there."

"Yeah, right," Reva scoffed.

"I'm not lying, Kumar," said Malfoy softly. Reva turned around to glare at him and met his eyes. They were glinting malevolently, and though Revati knew he was capable of lying about anything, she got the impression that right then, he was being entirely truthful. "Two of our parents are first cousins, you know."

Reva's blood froze. She risked a glance at Ron, who was gaping at her, seemingly just as shocked as she felt. In front of her, Neville's face paled.

Related to Malfoy? She knew she couldn't be related on her mother's side, for obvious physical reasons; so that had to mean that her father was… what, a Malfoy? Or from whatever family Draco's mum was born in? She shuddered at the thought. No, she told herself firmly. Malfoy's just trying to get to you. Don't let him. Put it out of your head. She did her best, but she couldn't deny that she'd been put slightly off balance from his words.

Malfoy spoke again, having regained his confidence in shaking Reva up so much. "You know, I think I'm onto something, here. The Gryffindor team lets people in who they feel sorry for! I mean, there's Potter, whose got no parents, and your brothers, Weasley, who have no money… quite frankly, Longbottom, it's shocking you're not on the pitch right now, seeing as you've got no brains."

Neville swallowed tightly. "I-I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy." He said, his voice steady despite the mildly terrified expression on his face.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle broke out into peels of cruel laughter. "Oh, Longbottom," Malfoy sighed with mirth, "You truly are the most stupid person in our year. Really, if brains were galleons, you'd be poorer than Weasley—and trust me, that's quite the feat."

In between Reva and Hermione, Ron stiffened. "One more word, Malfoy, and you'll regret it—"

"Ron, Reva, pay attention!" Hermione gasped suddenly. She pointed out to the field, where Harry had suddenly gone into a nosedive. "I think he's seen it!"

"Seen what, the gold?" Malfoy sneered. "Well, Weasley, maybe he'll share it with you… or even you, Kumar, seeing as you're his family. Merlin knows nobody else related to you would bail you out."

"That's it!" Reva said, standing up suddenly and tackling Malfoy to the ground, winding him so hard he gasped for air. In a flash, Ron was beside her, sinking his fist straight into Malfoy's cheek. Behind them, Crabbe and Goyle advanced, but suddenly Neville was there, joining the brawl.

Reva quickly got off of Malfoy and threw her fist into Goyle's gut. She kicked his shins and kneed his stomach, yelling unintelligibly all the while. She felt… exhilarated. There was nothing better, she decided, than hitting someone who deserved it, especially a racist, neo-fascist idiot like Gregory Goyle.

Goyle yelled and stumbled back; in an instant, he regained his bearings and struck Reva across the face. Her head whipped back with the force of the blow, but recovering herself, she threw her head forward, slamming it hard into his nose and jaw. There was a crack, and Goyle let out a yell of pain, blood streaming from his nose.

Ron was still rolling around with Malfoy, both boys trying to land hits on each other. Neville was doing his best to hold his own against Crabbe, who was about twice the size of him. Reva continued trading blows with Goyle, who clearly had no scruples about backhanding a girl in the face repeatedly. (Of course, seeing as Reva had thrown the first punch, and the fourth and fifth, she was capable of giving as good as she got). Around them, very few Gryffindors had actually noticed the brawl that had broken out; all of them suddenly surged to their feet, yelling with excitement at whatever was going on in the match. And then—

"Ron, Reva, Neville!" Hermione shrieked. "Harry's done it, he's won the match!"

That was enough to pull Revati out of her rage-fuelled violent daze; blinking with amazement and delight, she turned to look up at Hermione. Goyle seized the opportunity to throw a fist into her ribs, and she yelped, turning back down and kicking him as hard as she could in the stomach. His nose was really bloody now, and it seemed a bit crooked—she'd broken it. She scrambled to her feet before he could catch his breath. Then, purposefully stepping on his fingers as she pulled herself back onto the bench, she threw herself at Hermione in a tight, aggressive hug.

"We won! We won!" She screamed. "Ron, did you hear that! We won!"

She and Ron were still chanting 'We won! We won!' two hours later in the Common Room, greeting the entire Quidditch team with enthusiastic cries and whoops along with half of Gryffindor when they filed in after showering (and, in the Weasley twins' case, sneaking sweets from the kitchens).

Oliver Wood seemed beside himself with joy, and beamed in utter delight as a couple of sixth years hoisted him onto their shoulders. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia mingled with the crowd, passing out a bunch of tarts that the twins had nicked. The Chasers were soon surrounded by overjoyed Gryffindors, who swarmed them to congratulate their goals. The twins slunk in behind them, carrying trays of snacks and desserts between them.

"Great job, you two!" Reva shouted at Fred and George over the ruckus. "Hitting the Bludger at Snape, George—that was inspired!"

"So was hitting that little creep Goyle in the face," said George, laughing. He and Fred pushed their way through the crowd to stand by them. "We looked over at the Gryffindor stands and saw the two of you and Neville Longbottom just walloping those Slytherins."

"Never been prouder to call you my brother," added Fred, thumping Ron on the back. Ron's ears went red, and he grinned.

"Didn't even get detention," Ron crowed. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye!"

"Goyle got me in the face," Reva said ruefully, poking gingerly at the angry bruise sprouting over her cheek. "But I think I broke his nose, so I'm not too miffed."

All four of them laughed.

"I still can't believe the two of you were Muggle fighting instead of watching the match!" Hermione moaned, shaking her head in resignation. "It was such a spectacular catch, too!"

"I still can't believe you didn't notice the fist fight happening behind you!" Chortled Ron.

"Fist fight? What fist fight?" Came a new voice. Revati whirled around to see Harry standing there. For someone who'd just showered, he seemed rather sweaty. His hair was messier than usual, and—was that a twig caught in it?

"You should have seen it, Harry, it was amazing—Neville's in the Hospital Wing, but he should be fine, and I think he winded Crabbe! And Reva—"

"Where have you been, Harry?" Hermione interrupted Ron. Fred and George, having lost interest, wandered off towards Lee Jordan. Harry swallowed, and Reva felt a pit form in her stomach. Her cousin looked less happy than she would have expected, considering he'd just put Gryffindor in the lead for the Quidditch Cup.

Harry's eyes darted around, and he grabbed Ron and Hermione's wrists, dragging them towards the portrait hole and telling Revati to follow.

"What's going on?" Asked Hermione nervously as Harry tugged the three of them into the nearest empty classroom.

Harry took a deep breath. "I followed Snape after the match on my Nimbus. He met with Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest, and he asked if Quirrell knew how to get past Fluffy—"

"Did he?" Reva asked immediately, eyes wide as her stomach churned.

"I don't think so," Harry murmured, "But that's not all. Snape asked him about his own enchantment. I think Quirrell is one of the professors protecting the Stone."

"And Snape's asking him how to get past his obstacle," Hermione realized. "Which means—"

"Snape's after the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said.

"And Quirrell is the only one left standing to protect it," Reva whispered.

Ron groaned. "It'll be gone within the week."

malfoy, that little fucker.

reva's good at avoidance, but rest assured, malfoy's comment about being related is going to bug the hell out of her. she is gonna be desperate to disprove that... but unfortunately, she won't be able to.

i couldn't decide, initially, whether reva knew who her dad was before coming to hogwarts or whether she found out during third year. ultimately i decided on neither, because i have ~plans~ for reva when she finds out.

hope everyone is doing well! stay safe 3 thinking of you all always!

love,

-bb