Her Power | Discontinued

The Gift and The Mirror

The next morning. Harry had to shake Ron and Olivia awake. They were suffering from post-Christmas exhaustion and frankly, Olivia wasn't amused to have been woken up at seven in the morning. All was forgotten, however, when Harry recounted the adventure he'd gone on last night.

Harry found a mirror that showed him his entire family. His mum, his dad, all of his relatives. As he finished, Ron gave him a sullen look.

"You could have woken us up," Ron said crossly

"You can come tonight, I'm going back; I want to show you both the mirror," said Harry.

"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Ron said eagerly.

"And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to shove me your other brothers and everyone."

Olivia supposed Ron replied to that, but she couldn't hear him. All she could think about was what she would see in the mirror. Was it possible? She had no clue. She had no idea what her parents looked like, but she had a nice, imagined version of them. She had a version that she would never share with anyone. She couldn't focus on anything that day. Percy worriedly noted that she hadn't eaten and was on her tail about it all of dinner until she finally had a biscuit.

That night, they snuck out of the common room, all crowded underneath Harry's cloak. They wandered for at least an hour before they spotted a suit of armour, Harry pushed the door open and ran into the room, right in front of the mirror.

"There they are, Ron. Can't you see?" Ron stood where Harry was, then stared, transfixed on the image.

"Look at me!"

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No-I'm alone-but I'm different. I look older-and I'm Head Boy!"

"Here, Olivia, you look!" Before Olivia could explain that she was nervous about what she'd see, Ron had already towed her to the direct spot. She looked into the mirror.

And looked.

And looked, and there they were.

There they were.

A woman wearing a yellow sundress and an apron. She was an artist. like Olivia dreamed she would be Splotches of paint had stained her neck and hands, and her hand was on Olivia's shoulder her hair fell to her hips in raven coloured ringlets and she had the clearest lavender eyes. And she looked so proud of her.

There was a man. He wore a wrinkled dress shirt, and his brown hair was ruffled up. He couldn't make up his mind between looking proudly down at Olivia to looking adoringly at his wife. His brown eyes were identical to the small freckles, that one would see if they looked close enough at her own. She looked into his eyes, and he pulled a face at her before laughing silently.

Then, a third person appeared. He was the spitting image of the man, except he had black hair, and he leaned casually against Olivia's shoulder.

"So, Olivia? What do you see?" Ron urged. Oh... she'd forgotten they were here.

"I..., um..." Olivia couldn't remember a single word in the English language. There they were.

She felt something drip down her neck. Looking in the mirror, she realized she was crying.

"Olivia?" Harry said, "What's wrong? Can't you see them?" The tears kept coming, and suddenly she started sobbing. She couldn't stop them no matter how hard she tried, she even tried a few tricks she used in the Orphanage, but to no avail. There they were. They were hers.