A butterfly flaps its wings, and Harry Potter ends up taking the place of Pansy Parkinson via polyjuice rather than Gregory Goyle. She discovers being a girl is pretty great, in her view. She's a little kinder to herself, a little more confident - and that makes all the difference.
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A Skirt's Not So Bad [Harry Potter]
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Chapter One
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
A Skirt's Not So Bad
Chapter One
"Goyle's gone home for Christmas?!" Harry asked, as he and his two best friends - Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger - sat in a disused girl's bathroom. It was a cold, damp place even in Autumn. In Winter, it was a wonder they could stand to be inside there for more than a few minutes. When the cauldron they'd hidden there was on the flame it was a little better, but plenty of the arcane steps to create it required a cold cauldron.
"The plan's ruined, then," Ron said dejectedly.
"Well, not necessarily..." Hermione said, looking at Harry and Ron a little oddly. Harry, recognising that expression, felt that there was a 'but' coming. "Pansy Parkinson's parents had some kind of emergency, and so she's staying for Christmas too," Hermoine continued.
"But we can't be Pansy!" Ron said.
"Didn't the book say that cross-gender polyjuice wasn't recommended?" Harry asked, thinking back to a hazily remembered passage.
"That was for long term use. You should be fine if it's just for an hour," Hermione said.
"I dunno, Hermione. Being Crabbe and Goyle is one thing, but being Pansy Parkison?" Ron said.
"I - I guess catching the Heir of Slytherin is more important than having to bear being Pansy Parkinson for an hour. You be Crabbe, Ron," Harry said after he gathered up his courage. His mind was racing at the thought - it seemed wrong to him somehow, something extra forbidden. Still, half-remembered rants by Uncle Vernon about 'queers' wasn't really worse than what they were planning to do and one thought to poor Colin Creevy lying petrified gave Harry the resolve he needed.
"That does bring up a problem - I already have my hair, and I had a plan to get Crabbe and Goyle's... but even Pansy Parkinson isn't thick enough to fall for it," Hermione said. Her voice had an unusual note of venom, and Harry thought that Hermione had the potential to be quite nasty if she wanted to be.
"What's your plan for Crabbe then?" Ron asked.
"Leave a cupcake dosed with sleeping potion out with him to find," Hermione said, shrugging. Harry and Ron both shared a lock of shock.
"Blimey, remind me to never make you mad again!" Ron said, and Hermione gave a sort of bashful smile.
"So what should we do for Pansy?" Harry asked.
"How's your stunning spell, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"What? You were there in Quirell's class, none of us could do more than make each other a little sleepy with it," Harry said.
"I dunno mate, you made me pretty bloody drowsy with it," Ron said.
"I think you might be able to pull it off with practice, Harry. If you can stun her from beneath the invisibility cloak, I can dose her with a mix of sleeping potion and forgetfulness draught that should make sure she doesn't remember it," Hermione said, her face wrought with determination.
"How are we going to get her alone, anyway?" Harry asked.
"Easy. She goes to the Owlery after dinner most nights - with most of the castle gone, it should be easy to get her alone and stun her from under the cloak," Hermione said. Harry nodded but again thought that making Hermione angry was probably a bad idea.
"Might be a useful thing to know how to do with the Heir running around, stunning," Ron muttered.
"I don't think I'm going to stun Slytherin's monster, Ron," Harry said.
"I reckon you could stun Malfoy, though," Ron said with a grin.
Harry couldn't help but grin at that thought. It was with that pleasant idea circulating in his brain that he, Ron, and Hermione spent several hours over a few days blasting cushions around disused classrooms with jets of red light. It was the sort of intensive study that Harry and Ron never did, but Harry found it surprisingly easy now that he knew he might put it to some use. It was still arduous and not that exciting, at least after the first few goes, but it felt more like looking for Nicholas Flamel had, even though it would actually come up on his OWL.
"I still don't get why it's a stunning spell and not a jinx or something," Ron said one winter afternoon. His stunning spell wasn't quite as good as Hermione or Harry's - both of them could stun each other fairly reliably now.
"That's... that's actually a good point, Ron," Hermione said, sounding a little shocked.
"No need to sound so surprised," he said, but he smiled at the praise all the same. "Say, how'd you get your hair, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Remember when Bulstrode put me in a headlock at the duelling club? She left some on my robes," Hermione explained.
"Are you sure it's hers? I mean, doesn't she have a cat - you could end up meowing for an hour!" Ron asked.
"It's not a cat hair," Hermione said, a little defensively.
"I wouldn't risk it if I were you. The pictures in that book were pretty horrific," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Oh fine. She always falls asleep trying to study in the library, I'll get one from her there," Hermione said.
--/--
Crabbe looked mournful as he roamed the corridors alone after the Christmas feast. Without Goyle, he seemed almost lost to a daze as he nibbled on deserts cradled in his arms. He bent over to pick up the cupcake, and with a single sad sigh, bit into it.
He landed on the ground with a soft 'thud', completely asleep. Ron ran out from around the corner, looking slightly amazed that Hermione's plan had worked. He bent down, picked off a hair, and dragged Crabbe into a cupboard.
"I feel almost bad about this now," Ron said, sighing as he closed the cupboard door. The poor boy seemed totally lost without his partner in thuggery.
Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione waited just down from the Owlery under the invisibility cloak. Pansy had already gone up and sent her letter, and now all that remained was for them to enact their plan. Which, in Harry's estimation, was quite possibly the most reckless thing Hermione had ever rsuggested. Lacking any better plan, however, he got ready to cast beneath the cloak.
Pansy walked down, and then past the pair of Gryffindors. She seemed happy at whatever letter she was clutching, and was almost skipping. That seemed, to Harry, to be a little like Snape being nothing but polite and friendly - a sure sign of danger.
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted as he threw off the cloak. Before Parkinson could even begin to turn, a jet of red light slammed into her back. She tumbled forwards, knocked out as surely as if Dudely had landed his hardest punch to the side of her head. Hermione rushed forward, quickly turning the girl over and pouring the two tiny vials of potion down her mouth. Harry then bent down and, a little awkwardly, plucked off a hair.
Without a word between them, Hermione took Pansy's legs and Harry her arms as they stuffed her somewhat inelegantly into a broom cupboard.
They all met back up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where Hermione handed out vials full of disgusting looking potion and sets of spare uniforms taken from the laundry - and a pair of her own shoes, charmed to fit Pansy, for Harry.
"Glad it's not me wearing a skirt, mate. Be almost worse than being Pansy for an hour," Ron said, as he ventured into a cubicle.
"Yeah..." harry said, trailing off. He for one felt a little nervous, but the idea didn't seem so awful to him. It was only a skirt - how bad could it be? Before he could find out, though, he had to take some Pansy-Parkison flavoured polyjuice and that he was dreading.
He dropped the hair into the vial, and it instantly became violently pink. Still the same disgusting sludge, but no it no longer looked like sewage. It only smelled like it came from a sewer. It'll be worth it when we find out Malfoy's the heir, Harry thought to himself. Then he looked at the girls uniform, neatly folded next to him. Here, alone, he could admit to being a little curious.
Harry downed the entire potion with a single gulp. It tasted acrid as if he'd just swallowed some chemical concoction. His insides writhed, and for a single moment, he feared that Hermione had got the potion wrong. Then he felt his bones begin to move - a feeling much worse than even the skelegrow he'd taken after Lockhart had vanished all the bones in his arms. His entire body seemed to burn and melt, reshaping itself rather violently.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the entire experience was over. Harry was standing there, but in the mirror stood a dark-haired girl with a pug nose. Far from the sense of wrongness Most Ponte Potions had said he should feel, Harry felt only an odd sense of, well, rightness. His uniform was tight in some places and oddly loose in others - Pansy was not quite as fit as Harry - but nothing about being Pansy Parkinson felt wrong in the slightest.
Avoiding looking in the mirror as he did so, Harry quickly got changed into the girl's uniform. It was mostly the same, and although the Slytherin tie felt wrong, nothing else about the uniform did. Absorbed by a kind of manic energy, Harry spun around quickly and marvelled at the skirt. That was not as awful as Ron had said it would be. That was... that was fun.
"Oi, you ready in there mate?" Ron said, in Crabbe's voice.
"Yeah, just let me get these shoes on," Harry replied and marvelled at how Pansy's voice sounded. Then he thought about Colin Creevy and all the other petrified kids - what if the heir came after Hermione - and went out of the stall. As fun as this was, Harry thought, he still had an heir to catch.
Chapter One
"Goyle's gone home for Christmas?!" Harry asked, as he and his two best friends - Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger - sat in a disused girl's bathroom. It was a cold, damp place even in Autumn. In Winter, it was a wonder they could stand to be inside there for more than a few minutes. When the cauldron they'd hidden there was on the flame it was a little better, but plenty of the arcane steps to create it required a cold cauldron.
"The plan's ruined, then," Ron said dejectedly.
"Well, not necessarily..." Hermione said, looking at Harry and Ron a little oddly. Harry, recognising that expression, felt that there was a 'but' coming. "Pansy Parkinson's parents had some kind of emergency, and so she's staying for Christmas too," Hermoine continued.
"But we can't be Pansy!" Ron said.
"Didn't the book say that cross-gender polyjuice wasn't recommended?" Harry asked, thinking back to a hazily remembered passage.
"That was for long term use. You should be fine if it's just for an hour," Hermione said.
"I dunno, Hermione. Being Crabbe and Goyle is one thing, but being Pansy Parkison?" Ron said.
"I - I guess catching the Heir of Slytherin is more important than having to bear being Pansy Parkinson for an hour. You be Crabbe, Ron," Harry said after he gathered up his courage. His mind was racing at the thought - it seemed wrong to him somehow, something extra forbidden. Still, half-remembered rants by Uncle Vernon about 'queers' wasn't really worse than what they were planning to do and one thought to poor Colin Creevy lying petrified gave Harry the resolve he needed.
"That does bring up a problem - I already have my hair, and I had a plan to get Crabbe and Goyle's... but even Pansy Parkinson isn't thick enough to fall for it," Hermione said. Her voice had an unusual note of venom, and Harry thought that Hermione had the potential to be quite nasty if she wanted to be.
"What's your plan for Crabbe then?" Ron asked.
"Leave a cupcake dosed with sleeping potion out with him to find," Hermione said, shrugging. Harry and Ron both shared a lock of shock.
"Blimey, remind me to never make you mad again!" Ron said, and Hermione gave a sort of bashful smile.
"So what should we do for Pansy?" Harry asked.
"How's your stunning spell, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"What? You were there in Quirell's class, none of us could do more than make each other a little sleepy with it," Harry said.
"I dunno mate, you made me pretty bloody drowsy with it," Ron said.
"I think you might be able to pull it off with practice, Harry. If you can stun her from beneath the invisibility cloak, I can dose her with a mix of sleeping potion and forgetfulness draught that should make sure she doesn't remember it," Hermione said, her face wrought with determination.
"How are we going to get her alone, anyway?" Harry asked.
"Easy. She goes to the Owlery after dinner most nights - with most of the castle gone, it should be easy to get her alone and stun her from under the cloak," Hermione said. Harry nodded but again thought that making Hermione angry was probably a bad idea.
"Might be a useful thing to know how to do with the Heir running around, stunning," Ron muttered.
"I don't think I'm going to stun Slytherin's monster, Ron," Harry said.
"I reckon you could stun Malfoy, though," Ron said with a grin.
Harry couldn't help but grin at that thought. It was with that pleasant idea circulating in his brain that he, Ron, and Hermione spent several hours over a few days blasting cushions around disused classrooms with jets of red light. It was the sort of intensive study that Harry and Ron never did, but Harry found it surprisingly easy now that he knew he might put it to some use. It was still arduous and not that exciting, at least after the first few goes, but it felt more like looking for Nicholas Flamel had, even though it would actually come up on his OWL.
"I still don't get why it's a stunning spell and not a jinx or something," Ron said one winter afternoon. His stunning spell wasn't quite as good as Hermione or Harry's - both of them could stun each other fairly reliably now.
"That's... that's actually a good point, Ron," Hermione said, sounding a little shocked.
"No need to sound so surprised," he said, but he smiled at the praise all the same. "Say, how'd you get your hair, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Remember when Bulstrode put me in a headlock at the duelling club? She left some on my robes," Hermione explained.
"Are you sure it's hers? I mean, doesn't she have a cat - you could end up meowing for an hour!" Ron asked.
"It's not a cat hair," Hermione said, a little defensively.
"I wouldn't risk it if I were you. The pictures in that book were pretty horrific," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Oh fine. She always falls asleep trying to study in the library, I'll get one from her there," Hermione said.
--/--
Crabbe looked mournful as he roamed the corridors alone after the Christmas feast. Without Goyle, he seemed almost lost to a daze as he nibbled on deserts cradled in his arms. He bent over to pick up the cupcake, and with a single sad sigh, bit into it.
He landed on the ground with a soft 'thud', completely asleep. Ron ran out from around the corner, looking slightly amazed that Hermione's plan had worked. He bent down, picked off a hair, and dragged Crabbe into a cupboard.
"I feel almost bad about this now," Ron said, sighing as he closed the cupboard door. The poor boy seemed totally lost without his partner in thuggery.
Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione waited just down from the Owlery under the invisibility cloak. Pansy had already gone up and sent her letter, and now all that remained was for them to enact their plan. Which, in Harry's estimation, was quite possibly the most reckless thing Hermione had ever rsuggested. Lacking any better plan, however, he got ready to cast beneath the cloak.
Pansy walked down, and then past the pair of Gryffindors. She seemed happy at whatever letter she was clutching, and was almost skipping. That seemed, to Harry, to be a little like Snape being nothing but polite and friendly - a sure sign of danger.
"Stupefy!" Harry shouted as he threw off the cloak. Before Parkinson could even begin to turn, a jet of red light slammed into her back. She tumbled forwards, knocked out as surely as if Dudely had landed his hardest punch to the side of her head. Hermione rushed forward, quickly turning the girl over and pouring the two tiny vials of potion down her mouth. Harry then bent down and, a little awkwardly, plucked off a hair.
Without a word between them, Hermione took Pansy's legs and Harry her arms as they stuffed her somewhat inelegantly into a broom cupboard.
They all met back up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where Hermione handed out vials full of disgusting looking potion and sets of spare uniforms taken from the laundry - and a pair of her own shoes, charmed to fit Pansy, for Harry.
"Glad it's not me wearing a skirt, mate. Be almost worse than being Pansy for an hour," Ron said, as he ventured into a cubicle.
"Yeah..." harry said, trailing off. He for one felt a little nervous, but the idea didn't seem so awful to him. It was only a skirt - how bad could it be? Before he could find out, though, he had to take some Pansy-Parkison flavoured polyjuice and that he was dreading.
He dropped the hair into the vial, and it instantly became violently pink. Still the same disgusting sludge, but no it no longer looked like sewage. It only smelled like it came from a sewer. It'll be worth it when we find out Malfoy's the heir, Harry thought to himself. Then he looked at the girls uniform, neatly folded next to him. Here, alone, he could admit to being a little curious.
Harry downed the entire potion with a single gulp. It tasted acrid as if he'd just swallowed some chemical concoction. His insides writhed, and for a single moment, he feared that Hermione had got the potion wrong. Then he felt his bones begin to move - a feeling much worse than even the skelegrow he'd taken after Lockhart had vanished all the bones in his arms. His entire body seemed to burn and melt, reshaping itself rather violently.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the entire experience was over. Harry was standing there, but in the mirror stood a dark-haired girl with a pug nose. Far from the sense of wrongness Most Ponte Potions had said he should feel, Harry felt only an odd sense of, well, rightness. His uniform was tight in some places and oddly loose in others - Pansy was not quite as fit as Harry - but nothing about being Pansy Parkinson felt wrong in the slightest.
Avoiding looking in the mirror as he did so, Harry quickly got changed into the girl's uniform. It was mostly the same, and although the Slytherin tie felt wrong, nothing else about the uniform did. Absorbed by a kind of manic energy, Harry spun around quickly and marvelled at the skirt. That was not as awful as Ron had said it would be. That was... that was fun.
"Oi, you ready in there mate?" Ron said, in Crabbe's voice.
"Yeah, just let me get these shoes on," Harry replied and marvelled at how Pansy's voice sounded. Then he thought about Colin Creevy and all the other petrified kids - what if the heir came after Hermione - and went out of the stall. As fun as this was, Harry thought, he still had an heir to catch.
Last edited:
Dromeosaur
Feathery Raptor of snowy planes and frozen sea
- Location
- The land of Trees and Squirrels
Well, that's one way to find out.
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Surprised this isn't QQ.
UrsaTempest
Don't Panic!
Subrosian_Smithy
endless
- Location
- Washington
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Hers
And why is that?
ValhaHazred
The Littlest Murderhobo
- Pronouns
- they/them
I am always down for a trans Harry Potter story!
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
This is going to be great.
Chapter Two
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Chapter Two
"Merlin, that's odd," Ron said as Harry and Hermione exited the cubicles. Harry was struck by just how large Crabbe was up close, and the slightly intimidating fact that Milicent Bulstrode was even bigger. In her case, Harry thought, it was less fat and more bulk.
"It's a good thing you made me get another hair, Ron - I put the one I got at the duelling club into some polyjuice and it was definitely not from Bulstrode," Hermione said.
"Honestly, this isn't nearly as bad as the book said," Harry muttered. He felt almost an embarrassment at that - as if he should feel bad. But if you can't be honest with friends who'd risked their lives to help you, who could you be honest with, Harry thought.
"Really mate? I guess it's not so bad for some people or something," Ron said, a little awkwardly.
"It didn't - oh, we're wasting time! We need to get going, we only have an hour," Hermoine said.
"You find out where the Slytherin common room is, Harry?" Ron asked, unusually eloquent for Crabbe.
"Followed Malfoy yesterday-" Harry began, only for Hermione to interrupt.
"We all need to start speaking like the people we look like! Harry, speak like a catty bully. Ron, speak like even more of an idiot... and I guess I need to speak mostly in grunts," Hermione said. Ron gave a half-hearted objection to 'even more of an idiot', but being told he was right about Hermione's hair took the sting out of it.
"Now if you two will stop fighting and follow me," Harry said as he turned and walked out of the bathroom, only barely holding in a giggle. Pansy Parkinson might not be so ugly when Harry looked like her - her nose wasn't really that bad - but she certainly was as bad as Draco in her own way. Aside from setting a monster loose on the school. Harry didn't think Pansy had done that.
"That's downright unnatural, that is," Ron muttered as they all made their way down into the dungeons. Hurrying down the steps in unfamiliar shoes was a little difficult for Harry, but his natural agility and quick reflexes kept him from any falls.
Harry had followed Malfoy under his cloak the day before, and he quickly led the trio through the Dungeons. He hadn't got close enough to overhear the password, so they'd need to find another Slytherin to follow. Unfortunately for them, the first person they found wasn't a Slytherin.
"Miss Parkinson, what are you doing out of bed at this hour? And you, Crabbe and Bulstrode?" Percy Weasley asked, hands on his hips. He sounded like a male version of Molly Weasley, and Harry was seized by a sudden mad impulse to laugh. He managed not to, but it was close.
"What's it got to do with you, Weasley? Down here looking for a handout from some real wizards? As it's not curfew yet, I suggest you go back to your muggle studies books," Harry said, and felt unclean as he said it.
"You should show more respect to a Prefect, Parkinson. Ten points from Slytherin, and get back to your common room. It's not safe out here at night," Percy said.
"Nobody's going to attack three purebloods down here, Weasley," Draco Malfoy said, as he stepped around a corner.
"Be that as it may, Mr Malfoy - off to your common room before I take more points," Percy said, a little flustered. The trio followed Malfoy as he walked off, and they heard him mutter something foul about blood traitors as he led them away.
"Where have you been, Pansy? You can't have been hanging around with these two oafs," Draco said.
"Obviously not. I ran into them on the way down from the Owlery," Harry said, flicking his long black curls as he spoke. That was fun, Harry thought.
"That Peter Weasley... what a suck-up. Thinks he's going to catch the Heir of Slytherin single-handedly by skulking outside our common room," Draco said, and Ron corrected him with a muttered 'Percy' that Draco didn't seem to notice.
"Good thing you came along and saved us when you did, Draco," Harry said, trying his best to imitate Pansy's sycophantic tone.
"I'm sure you'd have handled him, Pansy - pure blood - he's just another one of those dirt poor blood traitors," Draco said, uttering the password as they neared the concealed stone door. It opened to reveal a room very different from the Gryffindor common room. It was long and low, lit by hazy lanterns and a flickering fire. The green couches were immaculate leather, rather than the cozy-if battered cloth of the Gryffindor common room. "That reminds me, though - I have something to show that should make those points sting less. I'll be back in a moment," Draco said, walking towards the boy's dormitories.
The trio sat down a little awkwardly, making sure to not be too close together. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the titles on some of the books left lying around - '1001 Curses, Jinxes and Hexes' and 'Love Potions for the Beginning Witch' were some of the milder ones. Harry made sure he sat properly - he was sure Pansy wouldn't sit like he normally did. His skirt was still a little odd, but he had to keep from smiling too much - even though he had to pretend to be an awful person, being Pansy was surprisingly fun. Well, Harry thought, apart from having to talk to Draco Malfoy.
"Here it is - isn't it hilarious?" Draco asked, holding out a Daily Prophet clipping. It was a story about Mr Weasley being fined fifty galleons for enchanting a car, and Harry felt guilt run through him at the story. Hermoine thankfully remembered to laugh, and Harry was quick enough to try his best impression of Pansy's high, mocking laugh.
"That's hilarious, Draco. Best news I've seen all week," Harry said, hoping his fake smile matched the won Pansy usually wore.
"I've got some that's even better," Draco said as he leaned in. Harry found his obvious attempts to impress Pansy funny enough that not laughing was his biggest struggle. "My father says that not only are the attacks going to be reported soon but that they're going to get worse - and then Dumbledore will get fired! Just think about - no Dumbledore, no mudbloods, and certainly no Weasleys,"
"It would be nice... sounds like your father knows a lot about what's going on," Harry said, trying to flatter Draco Malfoy, and not even the fun of being Pansy could make up for that.
"Maybe, but he doesn't tell me much," Draco said.
"Are you sure? You must know something..." Harry said. Really, he thought, this was way too easy. Pretending to be Pansy was a way better plan than pretending to be Goyle.
"I've told you everything I know, Pansy. I wish I knew who the Heir was - I'd help them! But Father just says to keep my head down and let the Heir. Hopefully, he gets the Granger mudblood next. Merlin, I hope she's the one who dies!" Draco said, and Hermione gripped the chair she was sitting in a little too hard. "What's with the reaction, Bulstrode? Got a crush on the little beaver-face mudblood do you?" Draco said with a sneer.
"She just wants to kill Granger herself, more like," Ron said, before Hermione could speak.
"The one who dies?" Harry asked, shocked that Malfoy wasn't the Heir.
"Weren't you listening to me the last time, Pansy? The last time the chamber was opened, fifty years ago, a mudblood died! My father wouldn't say who did it, but he did tell me something interesting - the Heir managed to frame that oaf Hagrid and never got caught. Maybe he's going to make Potter take the blame this time - wouldn't it be grand to see Saint Potter, friend to the Mudbloods, get carted off to Azkaban?" Draco asked.
"Azkaban?" Harry asked dimly.
"The wizard prison? Are you feeling alright, Pansy?" Draco asked.
"I think I've got a bit of a headache," Harry lied.
"Not surprising after dealing with that Weasley blood traitor. Merlin, those types are almost worse than mudbloods - did I tell you the Ministry raided our manor last week? If they'd have found Father's real collection we might have been in trouble, but of course, they didn't know about the Malfoy's own secret chamber - right under our drawing-room," Draco said with a grin.
"I think you did... my headache's getting worse. I think I'm going to go to the Hospital Wing," Harry said. They'd gotten what they needed from Draco - even if it wasn't what they wanted. It was time to leave because Harry did not want Draco Malfoy to see him wearing a girl's uniform in the middle of the Slytherin common room. In fact, Harry was fairly certain he'd had that nightmare once or twice.
"I'll go with her. Go laugh at the mudbloods," Hermione said, as Ron grunted. Draco laughed a little, and the trio made a hasty retreat from the Slytherin corridor.
"Well, maybe we didn't learn who the Heir was - but I'm gonna owl my dad right away about that secret chamber," Ron said with a grin.
"At least we learnt something about the Chamber - but I have no idea who the Heir could be!" Hermoine said.
Harry, now that they were out of sight of any Slytherins, did a little spin. Yes, he thought, that was still as fun even after having had to pretend to be Pansy Parkinson. Even her voice was still fun - were there charms that could let him speak like this more often, he thought. Maybe not exactly like Pansy, but still.
"You alright mate?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, a little shyly.
"Not exactly 'a truly horrific experience' like that book promised, being a bird then?"
"It's pretty fun... apart from having to pretend to be Pansy," Harry said, grinning a little. Hermoine's eyes narrowed, like she usually did when thinking about something - it looked quite bizarre on Bulstrode's face.
"I think I need to owl my parents about something..." Hermione said as the trio made their way back to the disused girl's bathroom.
A/N: So I was still a little inspired and kept writing
"Merlin, that's odd," Ron said as Harry and Hermione exited the cubicles. Harry was struck by just how large Crabbe was up close, and the slightly intimidating fact that Milicent Bulstrode was even bigger. In her case, Harry thought, it was less fat and more bulk.
"It's a good thing you made me get another hair, Ron - I put the one I got at the duelling club into some polyjuice and it was definitely not from Bulstrode," Hermione said.
"Honestly, this isn't nearly as bad as the book said," Harry muttered. He felt almost an embarrassment at that - as if he should feel bad. But if you can't be honest with friends who'd risked their lives to help you, who could you be honest with, Harry thought.
"Really mate? I guess it's not so bad for some people or something," Ron said, a little awkwardly.
"It didn't - oh, we're wasting time! We need to get going, we only have an hour," Hermoine said.
"You find out where the Slytherin common room is, Harry?" Ron asked, unusually eloquent for Crabbe.
"Followed Malfoy yesterday-" Harry began, only for Hermione to interrupt.
"We all need to start speaking like the people we look like! Harry, speak like a catty bully. Ron, speak like even more of an idiot... and I guess I need to speak mostly in grunts," Hermione said. Ron gave a half-hearted objection to 'even more of an idiot', but being told he was right about Hermione's hair took the sting out of it.
"Now if you two will stop fighting and follow me," Harry said as he turned and walked out of the bathroom, only barely holding in a giggle. Pansy Parkinson might not be so ugly when Harry looked like her - her nose wasn't really that bad - but she certainly was as bad as Draco in her own way. Aside from setting a monster loose on the school. Harry didn't think Pansy had done that.
"That's downright unnatural, that is," Ron muttered as they all made their way down into the dungeons. Hurrying down the steps in unfamiliar shoes was a little difficult for Harry, but his natural agility and quick reflexes kept him from any falls.
Harry had followed Malfoy under his cloak the day before, and he quickly led the trio through the Dungeons. He hadn't got close enough to overhear the password, so they'd need to find another Slytherin to follow. Unfortunately for them, the first person they found wasn't a Slytherin.
"Miss Parkinson, what are you doing out of bed at this hour? And you, Crabbe and Bulstrode?" Percy Weasley asked, hands on his hips. He sounded like a male version of Molly Weasley, and Harry was seized by a sudden mad impulse to laugh. He managed not to, but it was close.
"What's it got to do with you, Weasley? Down here looking for a handout from some real wizards? As it's not curfew yet, I suggest you go back to your muggle studies books," Harry said, and felt unclean as he said it.
"You should show more respect to a Prefect, Parkinson. Ten points from Slytherin, and get back to your common room. It's not safe out here at night," Percy said.
"Nobody's going to attack three purebloods down here, Weasley," Draco Malfoy said, as he stepped around a corner.
"Be that as it may, Mr Malfoy - off to your common room before I take more points," Percy said, a little flustered. The trio followed Malfoy as he walked off, and they heard him mutter something foul about blood traitors as he led them away.
"Where have you been, Pansy? You can't have been hanging around with these two oafs," Draco said.
"Obviously not. I ran into them on the way down from the Owlery," Harry said, flicking his long black curls as he spoke. That was fun, Harry thought.
"That Peter Weasley... what a suck-up. Thinks he's going to catch the Heir of Slytherin single-handedly by skulking outside our common room," Draco said, and Ron corrected him with a muttered 'Percy' that Draco didn't seem to notice.
"Good thing you came along and saved us when you did, Draco," Harry said, trying his best to imitate Pansy's sycophantic tone.
"I'm sure you'd have handled him, Pansy - pure blood - he's just another one of those dirt poor blood traitors," Draco said, uttering the password as they neared the concealed stone door. It opened to reveal a room very different from the Gryffindor common room. It was long and low, lit by hazy lanterns and a flickering fire. The green couches were immaculate leather, rather than the cozy-if battered cloth of the Gryffindor common room. "That reminds me, though - I have something to show that should make those points sting less. I'll be back in a moment," Draco said, walking towards the boy's dormitories.
The trio sat down a little awkwardly, making sure to not be too close together. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the titles on some of the books left lying around - '1001 Curses, Jinxes and Hexes' and 'Love Potions for the Beginning Witch' were some of the milder ones. Harry made sure he sat properly - he was sure Pansy wouldn't sit like he normally did. His skirt was still a little odd, but he had to keep from smiling too much - even though he had to pretend to be an awful person, being Pansy was surprisingly fun. Well, Harry thought, apart from having to talk to Draco Malfoy.
"Here it is - isn't it hilarious?" Draco asked, holding out a Daily Prophet clipping. It was a story about Mr Weasley being fined fifty galleons for enchanting a car, and Harry felt guilt run through him at the story. Hermoine thankfully remembered to laugh, and Harry was quick enough to try his best impression of Pansy's high, mocking laugh.
"That's hilarious, Draco. Best news I've seen all week," Harry said, hoping his fake smile matched the won Pansy usually wore.
"I've got some that's even better," Draco said as he leaned in. Harry found his obvious attempts to impress Pansy funny enough that not laughing was his biggest struggle. "My father says that not only are the attacks going to be reported soon but that they're going to get worse - and then Dumbledore will get fired! Just think about - no Dumbledore, no mudbloods, and certainly no Weasleys,"
"It would be nice... sounds like your father knows a lot about what's going on," Harry said, trying to flatter Draco Malfoy, and not even the fun of being Pansy could make up for that.
"Maybe, but he doesn't tell me much," Draco said.
"Are you sure? You must know something..." Harry said. Really, he thought, this was way too easy. Pretending to be Pansy was a way better plan than pretending to be Goyle.
"I've told you everything I know, Pansy. I wish I knew who the Heir was - I'd help them! But Father just says to keep my head down and let the Heir. Hopefully, he gets the Granger mudblood next. Merlin, I hope she's the one who dies!" Draco said, and Hermione gripped the chair she was sitting in a little too hard. "What's with the reaction, Bulstrode? Got a crush on the little beaver-face mudblood do you?" Draco said with a sneer.
"She just wants to kill Granger herself, more like," Ron said, before Hermione could speak.
"The one who dies?" Harry asked, shocked that Malfoy wasn't the Heir.
"Weren't you listening to me the last time, Pansy? The last time the chamber was opened, fifty years ago, a mudblood died! My father wouldn't say who did it, but he did tell me something interesting - the Heir managed to frame that oaf Hagrid and never got caught. Maybe he's going to make Potter take the blame this time - wouldn't it be grand to see Saint Potter, friend to the Mudbloods, get carted off to Azkaban?" Draco asked.
"Azkaban?" Harry asked dimly.
"The wizard prison? Are you feeling alright, Pansy?" Draco asked.
"I think I've got a bit of a headache," Harry lied.
"Not surprising after dealing with that Weasley blood traitor. Merlin, those types are almost worse than mudbloods - did I tell you the Ministry raided our manor last week? If they'd have found Father's real collection we might have been in trouble, but of course, they didn't know about the Malfoy's own secret chamber - right under our drawing-room," Draco said with a grin.
"I think you did... my headache's getting worse. I think I'm going to go to the Hospital Wing," Harry said. They'd gotten what they needed from Draco - even if it wasn't what they wanted. It was time to leave because Harry did not want Draco Malfoy to see him wearing a girl's uniform in the middle of the Slytherin common room. In fact, Harry was fairly certain he'd had that nightmare once or twice.
"I'll go with her. Go laugh at the mudbloods," Hermione said, as Ron grunted. Draco laughed a little, and the trio made a hasty retreat from the Slytherin corridor.
"Well, maybe we didn't learn who the Heir was - but I'm gonna owl my dad right away about that secret chamber," Ron said with a grin.
"At least we learnt something about the Chamber - but I have no idea who the Heir could be!" Hermoine said.
Harry, now that they were out of sight of any Slytherins, did a little spin. Yes, he thought, that was still as fun even after having had to pretend to be Pansy Parkinson. Even her voice was still fun - were there charms that could let him speak like this more often, he thought. Maybe not exactly like Pansy, but still.
"You alright mate?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, a little shyly.
"Not exactly 'a truly horrific experience' like that book promised, being a bird then?"
"It's pretty fun... apart from having to pretend to be Pansy," Harry said, grinning a little. Hermoine's eyes narrowed, like she usually did when thinking about something - it looked quite bizarre on Bulstrode's face.
"I think I need to owl my parents about something..." Hermione said as the trio made their way back to the disused girl's bathroom.
A/N: So I was still a little inspired and kept writing
Last edited:
UrsaTempest
Don't Panic!
Hermione's parents are dentist, but they probably have connection for this sort of stuff.
Strawberry
Dessert Faerie
- Location
- Derbyshire, UK
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I'll watch this, it's interesting and I am always up for trans!Harry stories, for pure spite to Rowling if nothing else.
It's well-written too, keep it up! ♥
It's well-written too, keep it up! ♥
Chapter Three
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Chapter Three
Harry felt himself change back in the little cubicle, his body twisting and melting. He was himself again, and he felt awful. It felt wrong, he realised. That slight itch, that old pain that he had no words for - taking the polyjuice had made it go away for a few moments, but it returned far worse. He hadn't known what was wrong before, what to long for. Now he had it given to him for an hour and snatched it away.
He sat there on the grimy floor, still in the uniform Hermione had borrowed for him, and Harry felt himself cry. Tears flowed down his face, and he hugged his knees. He could no longer ignore it, no longer brush it under happy memories of Hogwarts and the Burrow. It was Christmas Day at Hogwarts, and it all felt like ash to Harry.
The door remained closed, and Harry wanted it to never open. He wanted to stay here, where he at least wouldn't have to change out of the uniform. It didn't fit him particularly well, being sized for Pansy, but the over-large uniform was the most comfortable piece of clothing he'd ever worn.
"Are - are you okay in there Harry?" Hermione asked, quietly.
"Mate, you having trouble in there?" Ron asked a little later, but Harry couldn't respond. He might have been able to put it into words in his head, but how could he say them. His friends would laugh at him, think him a freak. He was a freak, he thought. Uncle Vernon had been right after all.
"It's wrong..." Harry muttered to himself through the tears, over and over again. He had never felt like this before, never felt such a wall of emotions slam into him as though they had physical force. It felt like he couldn't move, and he slumped against the wood of the stall. All the happiness and excitement he'd felt over the polyjuice had been drained from him and seemingly returned tenfold.
"Harry?" Ron and Hermoine said, as the door to the stall swung slowly open. He was still wearing the girl's uniform, and Harry felt a sudden bolt of shame.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked nothing in her voice but concern.
"Did you have a bad reaction to the potion, mate? Percy's always going on about bad cauldrons..." Ron said, not even registering the uniform.
"I - I want to go back," Harry said, very quietly. He still couldn't look at his friends, his face flushed with shame.
"What do you mean, 'go back'?" Ron asked, confused. "Did you leave something behind there, Harry?"
"I - I don't think Harry left anything behind," Hermione said slowly, without her usual confidence,
"Well, I dunno what's going mate - I can't read minds, you know. But you two stay right there, I need to go get something from Fred and George," Ron said, taking one last concerned look at Harry before dashing off.
"Up you get," Hermione said, pulling Harry to his feet and leading him over to the disused chairs that they'd set up inside the bathroom. He slumped into one, bonelessly. "Was it about not having to be Harry Potter anymore?" Hermoine asked. Harry shook his head. "We just want to help, you know, both Ron and I. What's making you so upset at changing back?" Hermione asked.
"It was -" Harry began, and then paused. How could he answer truthfully, how could he admit something so shameful? It scared him to his core, the idea of losing his friends. Perhaps an ordinary twelve-year-old might have given up then, spun an unconvincing lie. Even an extraordinary one couldn't be faulted for not saying it. But the Sorting Hat hadn't made a mistake when it said Harry had courage, and Harry had shown courage more extraordinary than most adult wizards the previous year. "It was about not being a girl anymore," Harry finished very quietly, yet it seemed like his words were deafeningly loud in the quiet of an almost empty Hogwarts.
"Oh," Hermione said very quietly. "I didn't - the potion didn't?" she asked.
"I - I don't think so. I think I was always like this. Always hurt, but I didn't say anything because I learned to live with it. Then I didn't, just for an hour, and I was so happy," Harry said. Harry toyed with the skirt, wanting to do anything but look at Hermione. She would think he was a freak, he was sure. She'd leave, find some excuse to run away.
"The book said that spending any real length of time polyjuiced as the opposite gender would be horrific... it's been like that for years for you, hasn't it?" Hermoine said, very quietly. The puzzle had been solved now, all her confusion gone. Harry nodded, and Hermoine hugged her. "I can't imagine what that must be like, Harry. I don't know how to make it better... but I'm going to try, no matter what. You and Ron were my first friends, you know? Nobody before you two would have cared to look for me with a troll on the loose. That night was the first time I'd ever stayed up late talking to a friend. I can tell it was the same with you when you made friends with Ron" Hermoine said, letting go of her hug.
"My relatives, my cousin made sure I didn't have any friends growing up," Harry said haltingly. He felt like Uncle Vernon would burst in screaming at any moment. "I don't know why Ron sticks around with us, sometimes," Harry said. She'd never had the large family, the ease of making friendships that Ron had.
"'Cause you're both better friends than any of other kids here and bloody brilliant, that's why," Ron said, bursting into the bathroom carrying a number of dark brown bottles.
"I'm not, Hermi-" Harry began, only for Ron to cut her off.
"Yeah, you are. Forget about all that Boy Who Lived stuff. You're the youngest Seeker in a century, and you damn well would have won the cup last year if you hadn't been busy saving the wizarding world!" Ron said, raising his voice. He looked a little red for a moment and then spoke again. "Anyway, it's still Christmas. No moping allowed. I got these from Fred and George," Ron said, offering Harry and Hermione one of the bottles each. They both took it warily.
"What is this stuff?" Harry asked.
"Butterbeer. You have to be thirteen to buy it, but I figure what's a few months either way after making polyjuice?" Ron said, grinning. Harry tried a little bit and found that she liked it. It had a pleasant sort of warmth to it, but only a little. It was sweet too, and Harry had to stop herself from laughing when she saw Hermoine enjoy it.
"Oh, alright," Hermione said, blushing a little as she drank the butterbeer.
"So, Harry, what's with the new style?" Ron asked, a little nervously.
"It just... feels better," Harry said, admitting it aloud.
"It's making you feel better, yeah?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded. "Good," he said and drank more butterbeer.
"I'll need to return that one... but you can borrow one of my old uniforms if you like. It should fit you," Hermione said, softly.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, unsure of herself.
"Of course," Hermione said.
"There's no one in the common room - Fred and George are up in their dormitory. You two could go get it now if you like," Ron said.
So the three of them set off, finishing their butterbeers on the way. They were all a little giggly by the time they reached the portrait hole - butterbeer was only very mildly alcoholic, but they were twelve.
"I'll stay down here," Ron said, a little awkwardly as Harry and Hermione walked up the staircase to the girl's dormitories. Harry realised just as she finished walking up that she'd never been up here.
Hermione smiled as they reached the top of the stairs, and turned towards Harry.
"Seems you're still a girl in Hogwarts' eyes, Harry" Hermione said, smiling.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"The staircase doesn't let boys up. Turns into a slide and makes noise," Hermoine said, as she opened the door to her dormitory room. Harry was still a little shocked as she walked in. It looked an awful lot like the boy's dormitory, as it turned out. Still, there were differences. She might be a girl, she thought, but that signed Lockhart poster made her gag. Hermione handed Harry the uniform, and they made their way back downstairs.
Fred was there, looking at Ron very oddly, and then at Harry even odder.
"How'd you manage to get up that staircase, Harry?" Fred asked, completely ignoring the girl's uniform.
"Because I'm a girl," she said without thinking and felt her cheeks go scarlet just afterwards.
"Never thought of that one myself!" Fred said and went back up to the boy's dorms. "Well, ask obvious questions and get obvious answers," he said, lightly chuckling to himself.
Harry slept a little easier that night, and the night after. Everything wasn't better at once, but she could see it getting better someday, and for now, that was enough.
Two days after Christmas, Hedwig arrived at Hogwarts with a reply from Hermione's parents. Harry wasn't sure what Hermione had written to them about exactly, only that they might know about Harry's situation.
The trio took the letter up to the second year boy's dorm, and began to read...
Harry felt himself change back in the little cubicle, his body twisting and melting. He was himself again, and he felt awful. It felt wrong, he realised. That slight itch, that old pain that he had no words for - taking the polyjuice had made it go away for a few moments, but it returned far worse. He hadn't known what was wrong before, what to long for. Now he had it given to him for an hour and snatched it away.
He sat there on the grimy floor, still in the uniform Hermione had borrowed for him, and Harry felt himself cry. Tears flowed down his face, and he hugged his knees. He could no longer ignore it, no longer brush it under happy memories of Hogwarts and the Burrow. It was Christmas Day at Hogwarts, and it all felt like ash to Harry.
The door remained closed, and Harry wanted it to never open. He wanted to stay here, where he at least wouldn't have to change out of the uniform. It didn't fit him particularly well, being sized for Pansy, but the over-large uniform was the most comfortable piece of clothing he'd ever worn.
"Are - are you okay in there Harry?" Hermione asked, quietly.
"Mate, you having trouble in there?" Ron asked a little later, but Harry couldn't respond. He might have been able to put it into words in his head, but how could he say them. His friends would laugh at him, think him a freak. He was a freak, he thought. Uncle Vernon had been right after all.
"It's wrong..." Harry muttered to himself through the tears, over and over again. He had never felt like this before, never felt such a wall of emotions slam into him as though they had physical force. It felt like he couldn't move, and he slumped against the wood of the stall. All the happiness and excitement he'd felt over the polyjuice had been drained from him and seemingly returned tenfold.
"Harry?" Ron and Hermoine said, as the door to the stall swung slowly open. He was still wearing the girl's uniform, and Harry felt a sudden bolt of shame.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked nothing in her voice but concern.
"Did you have a bad reaction to the potion, mate? Percy's always going on about bad cauldrons..." Ron said, not even registering the uniform.
"I - I want to go back," Harry said, very quietly. He still couldn't look at his friends, his face flushed with shame.
"What do you mean, 'go back'?" Ron asked, confused. "Did you leave something behind there, Harry?"
"I - I don't think Harry left anything behind," Hermione said slowly, without her usual confidence,
"Well, I dunno what's going mate - I can't read minds, you know. But you two stay right there, I need to go get something from Fred and George," Ron said, taking one last concerned look at Harry before dashing off.
"Up you get," Hermione said, pulling Harry to his feet and leading him over to the disused chairs that they'd set up inside the bathroom. He slumped into one, bonelessly. "Was it about not having to be Harry Potter anymore?" Hermoine asked. Harry shook his head. "We just want to help, you know, both Ron and I. What's making you so upset at changing back?" Hermione asked.
"It was -" Harry began, and then paused. How could he answer truthfully, how could he admit something so shameful? It scared him to his core, the idea of losing his friends. Perhaps an ordinary twelve-year-old might have given up then, spun an unconvincing lie. Even an extraordinary one couldn't be faulted for not saying it. But the Sorting Hat hadn't made a mistake when it said Harry had courage, and Harry had shown courage more extraordinary than most adult wizards the previous year. "It was about not being a girl anymore," Harry finished very quietly, yet it seemed like his words were deafeningly loud in the quiet of an almost empty Hogwarts.
"Oh," Hermione said very quietly. "I didn't - the potion didn't?" she asked.
"I - I don't think so. I think I was always like this. Always hurt, but I didn't say anything because I learned to live with it. Then I didn't, just for an hour, and I was so happy," Harry said. Harry toyed with the skirt, wanting to do anything but look at Hermione. She would think he was a freak, he was sure. She'd leave, find some excuse to run away.
"The book said that spending any real length of time polyjuiced as the opposite gender would be horrific... it's been like that for years for you, hasn't it?" Hermoine said, very quietly. The puzzle had been solved now, all her confusion gone. Harry nodded, and Hermoine hugged her. "I can't imagine what that must be like, Harry. I don't know how to make it better... but I'm going to try, no matter what. You and Ron were my first friends, you know? Nobody before you two would have cared to look for me with a troll on the loose. That night was the first time I'd ever stayed up late talking to a friend. I can tell it was the same with you when you made friends with Ron" Hermoine said, letting go of her hug.
"My relatives, my cousin made sure I didn't have any friends growing up," Harry said haltingly. He felt like Uncle Vernon would burst in screaming at any moment. "I don't know why Ron sticks around with us, sometimes," Harry said. She'd never had the large family, the ease of making friendships that Ron had.
"'Cause you're both better friends than any of other kids here and bloody brilliant, that's why," Ron said, bursting into the bathroom carrying a number of dark brown bottles.
"I'm not, Hermi-" Harry began, only for Ron to cut her off.
"Yeah, you are. Forget about all that Boy Who Lived stuff. You're the youngest Seeker in a century, and you damn well would have won the cup last year if you hadn't been busy saving the wizarding world!" Ron said, raising his voice. He looked a little red for a moment and then spoke again. "Anyway, it's still Christmas. No moping allowed. I got these from Fred and George," Ron said, offering Harry and Hermione one of the bottles each. They both took it warily.
"What is this stuff?" Harry asked.
"Butterbeer. You have to be thirteen to buy it, but I figure what's a few months either way after making polyjuice?" Ron said, grinning. Harry tried a little bit and found that she liked it. It had a pleasant sort of warmth to it, but only a little. It was sweet too, and Harry had to stop herself from laughing when she saw Hermoine enjoy it.
"Oh, alright," Hermione said, blushing a little as she drank the butterbeer.
"So, Harry, what's with the new style?" Ron asked, a little nervously.
"It just... feels better," Harry said, admitting it aloud.
"It's making you feel better, yeah?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded. "Good," he said and drank more butterbeer.
"I'll need to return that one... but you can borrow one of my old uniforms if you like. It should fit you," Hermione said, softly.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, unsure of herself.
"Of course," Hermione said.
"There's no one in the common room - Fred and George are up in their dormitory. You two could go get it now if you like," Ron said.
So the three of them set off, finishing their butterbeers on the way. They were all a little giggly by the time they reached the portrait hole - butterbeer was only very mildly alcoholic, but they were twelve.
"I'll stay down here," Ron said, a little awkwardly as Harry and Hermione walked up the staircase to the girl's dormitories. Harry realised just as she finished walking up that she'd never been up here.
Hermione smiled as they reached the top of the stairs, and turned towards Harry.
"Seems you're still a girl in Hogwarts' eyes, Harry" Hermione said, smiling.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"The staircase doesn't let boys up. Turns into a slide and makes noise," Hermoine said, as she opened the door to her dormitory room. Harry was still a little shocked as she walked in. It looked an awful lot like the boy's dormitory, as it turned out. Still, there were differences. She might be a girl, she thought, but that signed Lockhart poster made her gag. Hermione handed Harry the uniform, and they made their way back downstairs.
Fred was there, looking at Ron very oddly, and then at Harry even odder.
"How'd you manage to get up that staircase, Harry?" Fred asked, completely ignoring the girl's uniform.
"Because I'm a girl," she said without thinking and felt her cheeks go scarlet just afterwards.
"Never thought of that one myself!" Fred said and went back up to the boy's dorms. "Well, ask obvious questions and get obvious answers," he said, lightly chuckling to himself.
Harry slept a little easier that night, and the night after. Everything wasn't better at once, but she could see it getting better someday, and for now, that was enough.
Two days after Christmas, Hedwig arrived at Hogwarts with a reply from Hermione's parents. Harry wasn't sure what Hermione had written to them about exactly, only that they might know about Harry's situation.
The trio took the letter up to the second year boy's dorm, and began to read...
Fencer
Writer
- Location
- 2nd shift
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Well she accepted that about herself pretty damn quick. House of the brave, forward march. Raise the fortifications and man the siege engines, Harry. Prepare to repel all hostile forces. Because unless this is one of those fics where magic somehow led to this being better understood accepted and addressed you're in for a fight.
AXCN
Live to Read - (Shippers of many Ships)
Ah, that unintentional magical rule subversion. Love those "I am no man!" moments in fiction, especially when it's either unintentional or delivered as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Hmm, we expected a bit more angst-ing from Harry over their discovery but this is pretty cool too, looking forward to the next chapter! ^v^
Hmm, we expected a bit more angst-ing from Harry over their discovery but this is pretty cool too, looking forward to the next chapter! ^v^
Chapter Four
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Chapter Four
Dear Hermione
We were very concerned about your friend - it sounds like they were having a tough time. It's not really an area we know much about, but we reached out to some friends of ours who reached out to friends and so on. Mr Gould and his partner - from down the street - ended up being the most helpful.
Obviously what we can tell about your friend from a letter is limited, but they told us much more about what your friend's condition might be and put us in touch with a specialist doctor. We're still waiting to hear back, but based on our de-wizardised retelling of your description of the school staff Mr Gould suggested that your friend broach the subject carefully with Madam Pomfrey - hopefully, wizards have some instant cure that will make your friend feel better!
Love, your parents.
"Well, I'm confused. Is this muggle stuff? Why do they want you to speak to Madam Pomfrey?" Ron asked, looking at the letter.
"Specialist doctor?" Harry asked, also a little confused.
"Well, to honest with you, I'd heard a little about something in the muggle world that sounded a little like your problem, Harry. Sometimes it wasn't..." Hermione said but trailed off. Harry and Ron looked at her, and she gathered the courage to continue. "Sometimes it wasn't the most flattering things being said. But they were basically muggle equivalents to the Malfoys, so you shouldn't listen to them," Hermione finished.
"Muggles have Malfoys too?" Ron said, sounding a little shocked.
"I'm afraid the Wizarding world doesn't have a monopoly on rich inbred bigots, no," Hermione said.
"What do I say to Madam Pomfrey, anyway? I mean, she's nice and all, but how could I bring up the potion?" Harry said.
"Well, you know so long as you don't say the specific potion and let her fill in the gaps, I think you'd be alright actually. She basically never gets kids in trouble so long as they come to her when someone's hurt. Say, Hermione - what do they mean by 'partner' in that letter? Doesn't sound like a business partner," Ron said.
"His, um, romantic partner. Mr Chen. They can't get married, so..." Hermione said, blushing a little.
"Oh, I've got a cousin like that. Lives with a nice lady, Mum invites them round to dinner sometimes. Says neither of them can cook," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Huh," Harry said. She'd known about couples like that, of course, but mostly through her relatives' snide comments. She habitually believed the opposite of whatever the Dursleys said, but it was nice to have confirmation.
Later that day, the trio headed down to the Hospital Wing. Aside from the petrified students and Madam Pomfrey, no one else was there. Hermione looked at Harry.
"Would you like me to explain, at least about the potion, Harry?" Hermione asked, and Harry felt relieved. It would be an awkward enough conversation without having to talk about the potion.
"Yeah, thanks Hermione," Harry said.
"And what are you three doing in here? I know Mr. Potter is a frequent guest, but I'd rather hoped not to see him again this year," Pomfrey said, though she smiled at the three of them. She could be brisque, but she was generally a friendly sort.
"Out of, um, academic curiosity I may have brewed a potion capable of turning one person into another physically for a short time, and Harry may have tried some, as a female student, and been quite distressed-" Hermione said.
"Found being a girl quite distressing, Potter? Not to worry, that's normal - and you should start to feel better now that you've changed back," Pomfrey said.
"N-no, Madam Pomfrey. I only started to feel bad after it ended," Harry said, nervously. It was an embarrassing thing to talk about, especially to an adult.
"After it ended? And you felt no distress during the transformation?" Pomfrey said, sounding quite bewildered.
"Y-yeah. It was kind of - kind of nice," Harry said, nervously.
"Well, I've seen quite a few students who ignored the warnings and tried out some polyjuice - and don't think I don't know what that potion you're referring to is young lady - it's mostly been for the distress caused by the transformation. Not for any who were distressed it ended. I must admit I don't know what this could mean, but why don't you two go wait outside and I'll ask Harry here a few more questions," Pomfrey said, and Ron and Hermione exited the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey then went on to ask Harry a few embarrassing questions about her experience with the polyjuice potion, and then took an old tome from a glass-fronted cabinet.
"Now, I think there may be some records - ah, here we are. Celestina Harrow, a well-known medi-witch from the seventeenth century who wrote in her diary that she was 'born with the body of a wizard, but upon taking the form of a friend with polyjuice felt quite strongly that she should instead have that of a witch'. Does that sound like your feelings, Potter?"
Harry paused for a moment. It was a big question - but she'd already come this far. It was the same sort of logic that made her press on against the defences of the Philosopher's Stone last year - a perhaps foolhardy sort of courage. But then, Harry thought, the sorting hat had put her in Gryffindor for a reason.
"Maybe not in those words, but yeah," Harry said.
"Well, you're lucky I needed to look up Harrow's Mandrake Draught recently! Unfortunately whatever she did to address that feeling isn't in this volume, and she was quite the private person... still, it's a start. Just one last question... you haven't by chance made it up the stairs of the girl's dormitories recently, have you?"
"I did a few days ago. I didn't know about the defences at the time, though," Harry said.
"An interesting bit of magic Gryffindor put into his tower. Old fashioned chap, but he spelled it to work off of self-perception after a couple of lads took some polyjuice to beat it. Professor Flitwick usually tells that story in OWL year, so make sure you act surprised Potter. In any case, I will need to consult with some others before I have something for you, without mentioning your name, but we should be able to work something out," Pomfrey said, and Harry felt a wave of relief wash over her. Neither the muggle nor the wizarding world had offered an immediate solution, but it seemed like there would be one in time to stop her from growing a beard or a deep voice - or anything awful of that sort.
"So how'd it go, mate?" Ron asked as they walked back to the tower.
"Pomfrey found out someone it'd happened to before, the Witch who invented the Mandrake draught! She doesn't know what that witch did, but she thinks she might be able to help me in a little while," Harry said, beaming.
"I think that's the happiest you've been all - what's all this water?" Hermione said as they rounded a corner.
"Moaning Mrytle's flooded her bathroom again, most likely," Ron said.
"We should probably go calm her down," Harry said, feeling sorry for the ghost. She might be annoying, but Harry reckoned being Moaning Myrtle would be a pretty unpleasant existence. The trio held up their robes and ventured past the corridor where Filtch's cat had been petrified, and then into the bathroom itself.
"Who's come to throw things at - oh, it's you three. Feeling alright, Harry?" Myrtle said, which threw Harry completely off guard.
"Um, yeah. Thanks, Myrtle. Were people throwing things at you?" Harry asked.
"Here I was, minding my own business, and someone threw a book at me! Who throws a book at someone minding their own business in a U-bend, honestly?" Myrtle said, and Harry looked over in the direction that Myrtle pointed. There was a sleek black book lying there, title side down. The strangest thing about it, though, was that it seemed to be completely dry. Indeed, Harry saw how the water seemed to be held just away from it.
"That's... odd," Hermione said, as she picked the book up.
"Are you crazy Hermoine? That could be dangerous!" Ron shouted, knocking the book out of her hands. Hermoine looked up in surprise before she put her hands to her mouth in horror.
"Oh, how could I forget - what if it had been like Sonnets of a Sorcerer and I'd spent the rest of my life only being able to speak in limericks," Hermione said.
"I was more thinking about the kind that burnt your eyes out - or the Egyptian ones my brother Bill's told me about. They do all sorts of nasty stuff to you," Ron said.
"Well, Hermione picked it up and nothing happened to her - so that should be safe enough," Harry said, as she exclaimed the book more closely. It had landed title side up, this time. It was a diary from fifty years ago - and Harry felt her blood run cold.
"Ron, Hermione... look at this. It's a diary from nineteen forty-two - fifty years ago!" Harry said.
"So it's an old diary, maybe whoever owned it cursed it-" Ron began, only for Hermione to interrupt him.
"Oh of course! Ron, Malfoy said that the Chamber was last opened fifty years ago, and that the Heir at the time framed Hagrid for it!"
"I dunno Hermione, framed Hagrid for it? I thought Malfoy was just trying to impress Pansy," Ron said.
"Probably, but I think he was repeating more of what his dad told him than he might have been allowed to," Harry said, and she picked the Diary up. Nothing exploded. She flipped it open, and saw only a name scrawled into the inside cover - Tom Marvolo Riddle. The rest of the pages were blank.
"Why'd someone enchant a fifty-year-old diary without anything written in it, then try and chuck it down a toilet?" Ron asked.
"I dunno, but there's something about it... I don't think it's just an empty diary," Harry said, as the three of them headed up to the common room.
Dear Hermione
We were very concerned about your friend - it sounds like they were having a tough time. It's not really an area we know much about, but we reached out to some friends of ours who reached out to friends and so on. Mr Gould and his partner - from down the street - ended up being the most helpful.
Obviously what we can tell about your friend from a letter is limited, but they told us much more about what your friend's condition might be and put us in touch with a specialist doctor. We're still waiting to hear back, but based on our de-wizardised retelling of your description of the school staff Mr Gould suggested that your friend broach the subject carefully with Madam Pomfrey - hopefully, wizards have some instant cure that will make your friend feel better!
Love, your parents.
"Well, I'm confused. Is this muggle stuff? Why do they want you to speak to Madam Pomfrey?" Ron asked, looking at the letter.
"Specialist doctor?" Harry asked, also a little confused.
"Well, to honest with you, I'd heard a little about something in the muggle world that sounded a little like your problem, Harry. Sometimes it wasn't..." Hermione said but trailed off. Harry and Ron looked at her, and she gathered the courage to continue. "Sometimes it wasn't the most flattering things being said. But they were basically muggle equivalents to the Malfoys, so you shouldn't listen to them," Hermione finished.
"Muggles have Malfoys too?" Ron said, sounding a little shocked.
"I'm afraid the Wizarding world doesn't have a monopoly on rich inbred bigots, no," Hermione said.
"What do I say to Madam Pomfrey, anyway? I mean, she's nice and all, but how could I bring up the potion?" Harry said.
"Well, you know so long as you don't say the specific potion and let her fill in the gaps, I think you'd be alright actually. She basically never gets kids in trouble so long as they come to her when someone's hurt. Say, Hermione - what do they mean by 'partner' in that letter? Doesn't sound like a business partner," Ron said.
"His, um, romantic partner. Mr Chen. They can't get married, so..." Hermione said, blushing a little.
"Oh, I've got a cousin like that. Lives with a nice lady, Mum invites them round to dinner sometimes. Says neither of them can cook," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Huh," Harry said. She'd known about couples like that, of course, but mostly through her relatives' snide comments. She habitually believed the opposite of whatever the Dursleys said, but it was nice to have confirmation.
Later that day, the trio headed down to the Hospital Wing. Aside from the petrified students and Madam Pomfrey, no one else was there. Hermione looked at Harry.
"Would you like me to explain, at least about the potion, Harry?" Hermione asked, and Harry felt relieved. It would be an awkward enough conversation without having to talk about the potion.
"Yeah, thanks Hermione," Harry said.
"And what are you three doing in here? I know Mr. Potter is a frequent guest, but I'd rather hoped not to see him again this year," Pomfrey said, though she smiled at the three of them. She could be brisque, but she was generally a friendly sort.
"Out of, um, academic curiosity I may have brewed a potion capable of turning one person into another physically for a short time, and Harry may have tried some, as a female student, and been quite distressed-" Hermione said.
"Found being a girl quite distressing, Potter? Not to worry, that's normal - and you should start to feel better now that you've changed back," Pomfrey said.
"N-no, Madam Pomfrey. I only started to feel bad after it ended," Harry said, nervously. It was an embarrassing thing to talk about, especially to an adult.
"After it ended? And you felt no distress during the transformation?" Pomfrey said, sounding quite bewildered.
"Y-yeah. It was kind of - kind of nice," Harry said, nervously.
"Well, I've seen quite a few students who ignored the warnings and tried out some polyjuice - and don't think I don't know what that potion you're referring to is young lady - it's mostly been for the distress caused by the transformation. Not for any who were distressed it ended. I must admit I don't know what this could mean, but why don't you two go wait outside and I'll ask Harry here a few more questions," Pomfrey said, and Ron and Hermione exited the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey then went on to ask Harry a few embarrassing questions about her experience with the polyjuice potion, and then took an old tome from a glass-fronted cabinet.
"Now, I think there may be some records - ah, here we are. Celestina Harrow, a well-known medi-witch from the seventeenth century who wrote in her diary that she was 'born with the body of a wizard, but upon taking the form of a friend with polyjuice felt quite strongly that she should instead have that of a witch'. Does that sound like your feelings, Potter?"
Harry paused for a moment. It was a big question - but she'd already come this far. It was the same sort of logic that made her press on against the defences of the Philosopher's Stone last year - a perhaps foolhardy sort of courage. But then, Harry thought, the sorting hat had put her in Gryffindor for a reason.
"Maybe not in those words, but yeah," Harry said.
"Well, you're lucky I needed to look up Harrow's Mandrake Draught recently! Unfortunately whatever she did to address that feeling isn't in this volume, and she was quite the private person... still, it's a start. Just one last question... you haven't by chance made it up the stairs of the girl's dormitories recently, have you?"
"I did a few days ago. I didn't know about the defences at the time, though," Harry said.
"An interesting bit of magic Gryffindor put into his tower. Old fashioned chap, but he spelled it to work off of self-perception after a couple of lads took some polyjuice to beat it. Professor Flitwick usually tells that story in OWL year, so make sure you act surprised Potter. In any case, I will need to consult with some others before I have something for you, without mentioning your name, but we should be able to work something out," Pomfrey said, and Harry felt a wave of relief wash over her. Neither the muggle nor the wizarding world had offered an immediate solution, but it seemed like there would be one in time to stop her from growing a beard or a deep voice - or anything awful of that sort.
"So how'd it go, mate?" Ron asked as they walked back to the tower.
"Pomfrey found out someone it'd happened to before, the Witch who invented the Mandrake draught! She doesn't know what that witch did, but she thinks she might be able to help me in a little while," Harry said, beaming.
"I think that's the happiest you've been all - what's all this water?" Hermione said as they rounded a corner.
"Moaning Mrytle's flooded her bathroom again, most likely," Ron said.
"We should probably go calm her down," Harry said, feeling sorry for the ghost. She might be annoying, but Harry reckoned being Moaning Myrtle would be a pretty unpleasant existence. The trio held up their robes and ventured past the corridor where Filtch's cat had been petrified, and then into the bathroom itself.
"Who's come to throw things at - oh, it's you three. Feeling alright, Harry?" Myrtle said, which threw Harry completely off guard.
"Um, yeah. Thanks, Myrtle. Were people throwing things at you?" Harry asked.
"Here I was, minding my own business, and someone threw a book at me! Who throws a book at someone minding their own business in a U-bend, honestly?" Myrtle said, and Harry looked over in the direction that Myrtle pointed. There was a sleek black book lying there, title side down. The strangest thing about it, though, was that it seemed to be completely dry. Indeed, Harry saw how the water seemed to be held just away from it.
"That's... odd," Hermione said, as she picked the book up.
"Are you crazy Hermoine? That could be dangerous!" Ron shouted, knocking the book out of her hands. Hermoine looked up in surprise before she put her hands to her mouth in horror.
"Oh, how could I forget - what if it had been like Sonnets of a Sorcerer and I'd spent the rest of my life only being able to speak in limericks," Hermione said.
"I was more thinking about the kind that burnt your eyes out - or the Egyptian ones my brother Bill's told me about. They do all sorts of nasty stuff to you," Ron said.
"Well, Hermione picked it up and nothing happened to her - so that should be safe enough," Harry said, as she exclaimed the book more closely. It had landed title side up, this time. It was a diary from fifty years ago - and Harry felt her blood run cold.
"Ron, Hermione... look at this. It's a diary from nineteen forty-two - fifty years ago!" Harry said.
"So it's an old diary, maybe whoever owned it cursed it-" Ron began, only for Hermione to interrupt him.
"Oh of course! Ron, Malfoy said that the Chamber was last opened fifty years ago, and that the Heir at the time framed Hagrid for it!"
"I dunno Hermione, framed Hagrid for it? I thought Malfoy was just trying to impress Pansy," Ron said.
"Probably, but I think he was repeating more of what his dad told him than he might have been allowed to," Harry said, and she picked the Diary up. Nothing exploded. She flipped it open, and saw only a name scrawled into the inside cover - Tom Marvolo Riddle. The rest of the pages were blank.
"Why'd someone enchant a fifty-year-old diary without anything written in it, then try and chuck it down a toilet?" Ron asked.
"I dunno, but there's something about it... I don't think it's just an empty diary," Harry said, as the three of them headed up to the common room.
Strawberry
Dessert Faerie
- Location
- Derbyshire, UK
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Uh oh, the diary is bad news but hopefully madame pomfrey can help Harry out!
Good story so far
Chapter Five
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Chapter Five
"I've tried everything I could think of, Harry," Hermione said as she put her Revealer away. It was a magical gadget that made little sparks and revealed invisible ink, but it had found nothing on the pages of Tom Riddle's diary.
None of their spells, nor even Hermione's Revealer could make anything show up on the blank pages of the diary. It seems Tom Riddle had bought a diary from a shop on Vauxhall Road, enchanted it against danger, and then forgotten about it. Harry still didn't think it was a coincidence, she couldn't think of anything else to try.
"I bet you Riddle was just a forties version of Percy and enchanted all his books, Harry. Have you seen the size of his trophy in the trophy room?" Ron said, and Harry shook her head in surprise.
"He has a trophy in there?" Harry asked.
"For 'Special Services to the School'. Sounds like a right tosser, if you ask me," Ron said, and Harry felt inclined to agree with him. Hermione pursed her lips in a look of disapproval. Harry stashed the book deep in her trunk, convinced that there was something more to it, and the excitement of the Christmas holidays soon distracted her.
She and her friends spent their time playing wizard's chess, getting into snowball fights with the Weasleys and only worrying a little over the Heir of Slytherin. Harry's life was, without thinking Malfoy was plotting to kill her friends, nice enough that she felt little drive to investigate further. She thought back to little Colin Creevy, lying petrified, and was occasionally guilty - but nothing she tried on the diary worked, and she had no further leads.
Soon enough, several weeks had passed and the holiday came to an end. Students filled the halls once more, and Harry found herself back in the Hospital Wing, looking rather nervously up at Madam Pomfrey.
"Now, Potter, the muggle doctor Granger's parents were able to put me in touch with managed to give me a few ideas. While I can't give you something to make your problem better, I can give you something that will stop it from getting worse. A simple potion, taken once a week, that will prevent any progress through a male puberty. Does that sound like it would help for now?" Pomfrey said, and Harry beamed. It wasn't what she really wanted, but just knowing that it wasn't going to get worse - that was enough for now.
"Definitely," Harry said, eagerly.
"Good. You should find doses on your bedside table every Sunday morning from now on. Hopefully, you won't need to take these for too long - I think I have something that would allow you to experience female puberty almost right, but I'll need to make certain it works before giving it to you. Anything further is a bit beyond my skills, I'm afraid, but you are lucky to attend a school run by a very open-minded master of transfiguration and alchemy," Pomfrey said.
"You didn't tell Professor Dumbledore about me, did you?" Harry asked, worried. She'd die of embarrassment.
"I told him it was for a student, but nothing more. He, of course, knew what that muggle word - 'transgender' meant without me explaining it to him. Where he finds the time..." Pomfrey muttered as she got a small clear glass of cherry-red potion out. Harry drank it eagerly and was surprised to find it tasted mostly like cheap cough medicine.
"Thank you again for this, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said.
"Just doing my job, Harry dear. I'm just glad to see you in here for a good reason, rather than another near-fatal act of heroics. Now, off you scarper," Pomfrey said, smiling. Harry eagerly left the hospital wing, to see Ron and Hermione waiting outside.
"Was she able to help you, Harry?" Hermione asked as they walked out onto the grounds to enjoy their Sunday afternoon.
"She gave me a potion to stop it getting worse-"
"Dying, are you Potter?" Draco Malfoy said in his mocking drawl.
"I'm better than ever, Malfoy. You'll have to find some actual talent if you want to win the Cup next year," Harry said, to even Hermione's laughter.
"Got any letters from daddy recently?" Ron said with an evil grin. Draco went white, and he went for his wand - only for Harry to be faster.
"Expeliarmus!" she shouted, just as Snape had done to Lockhart in the duelling club. Malfoy went stumbling backwards as Harry plucked his wand out of the air. Crabbe and Goyle moved a step or two towards the trio, but Ron and Hermione had their wands out now. "Now what should I do with this?" Harry wondered allowed, then an evil grin crossed her face. "Fetch, Malfoy!" she shouted and threw the wand as far as she could across the green. He went running after it, and all three Gryffindors were reduced to tears of laughter.
"I'll get you for this, Potter - you and your pet mudblood!" Draco shouted, but Harry found it hard to be intimidated by Draco Malfoy after finding out he wasn't the Heir.
She wasn't laughing a little more than a week later, however, when Hermione showed her the front page of the Daily Prophet at breakfast.
EXCLUSIVE: POTTER A PARSELTONGUE?
Explosive allegations coming out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have rocked this reporter. It seems that the fabled Boy Who Lived is more than a hero and a Quiddich sensation - he might be a dark wizard in the making! Multiple sources - pureblood and muggle-born alike - have confirmed to this reporter that Britain's Boy Hero displayed the dark talent during a school-sanctioned duel. Some of the students I spoke to claimed Potter was trying to stop a summoned snake from attacking another, uninvolved student, whilst others (who this reporter must sadly judge as both more numerous and more credible) claim he was "egging it on,"
This news surely raises new questions as to the events of that fateful day almost twelve years ago - is the unknown power that let our hero defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named darker in nature than some (especially Albus DUmbledore) have led us to believe? This reporter can't answer that question right now, but it is my promise to you, our devoted readers, that I will continue to search for the truth no matter the opposition.
(Continued Page 5. More Potter News in the sports section, Page 78)
- Rita Skeeter
"I bet you anything Malfoy's behind this," Ron said, looking a little apologetic for having started their fight a week ago.
"Don't beat yourself up over it, Ron. Half the school thinks I'm the Heir of Slytherin already," Harry said, focusing on arranging her bacon, toast, and eggs into a sandwich.
"This could be bad, Harry. Lots of people read Skeeter," Hermione said.
"Even if they do Hermione, not like I can do anything about it," Harry said, and then ate her sandwich. She'd need it for today's first lesson - defence with Lockhart. He'd been making worrying rumblings lately about a 'Valentine's Day Pick-Me-Up' for the school. Harry thought that there might be worse things in life, but only barely.
"Now class, today we're going to be examining how I bravely banished the Bandon Banshee. Now we'll need a volunteer from the girls to play the part..." Lockhart said, as just about every girl in the classroom raised their hands. Ron made an audible gagging noise, and Harry agreed with him.
After an hour of excruciatingly boring performances from one of Lockhart's books (as all his lessons had been after the pixie incident), Harry was almost looking forward to potions.
"Ah Harry, mind hanging back for a little chat?" Lockhart said as students began to depart. Harry sighed, but sat back down. "There's a good lad. Now, about that story in the paper - clever work my boy, clever work indeed! Why I should have seen it earlier - you're a growing young man, and the squeaky clean hero image didn't fit. What a way to add a little edge - you know, I'm sure I could get you a word with Rita," Lockhart said, and Harry felt like she'd been punched in the gut. People still called her 'Mr Potter' and 'he', since the only students she'd told about her being a girl were Ron and Hermione. But this hurt.
"N-no thank you, professor," Harry said, and scampered to leave the classroom. In her haste, though, she knocked over one of her inkpots. It went tumbling and ink-stained the bottom of her bag. She quickly managed to get her books out of harm's way, but she felt despair as she noticed that book in the bottom of her bag. Tom Riddle's diary was soaked with ink. Hastening from the classroom before Lockhart could try and help her, Harry noticed with fascination as the ink seemed to be sucked up into the diary.
Harry suddenly felt very stupid for not trying to write in the diary before now. She'd have to catch up with Ron and Hermione, and then they could test it out that night.
Late that night, the three of them sat in their pyjamas around a table in the common room, lit by the dying fire. Everyone else had gone to bed, and so they had an excellent chance to examine the diary.
"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I saw it suck up the ink... I think we should at least try writing in it," Harry said.
"Don't blame me if you end up cursed, mate," Ron said. Harry rolled her eyes, dipped her quill in some more secure ink, and began to write.
"My name is -" she began, only to pause. Harry was a boy's name. She wasn't sure if she wanted to change it, especially since there wasn't an easy female equivalent, but it still felt a little odd. -"Harry Potter," she continued. Maybe she could talk to Hagrid, find out if her parents had had any names ready for a girl, she thought.
All three of them felt their eyes go wide as the ink sunk into the page, and new words formed in reply.
"Hello, Harry. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?" it asked, and Harry looked at Ron and Hermione.
"I told you we should write in it!" Harry said with a grin.
"Blimey, that's not something you see everyday. How's it doing that, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"I... I don't know, Ronald," Hermione said.
"I found it in a toilet. Someone threw it at a ghost," Harry wrote.
"Then it is to both our good fortune that I recorded my memories in a form far more durable than ink and paper. That there would be those who did not want others to hear the truth - the truth I wrote of in this diary - was something I expected,"
"What do you mean, Tom?" Harry asked.
"This diary was written in a dark year - for the world as a whole, of course, and yet also for Hogwarts. War did not touch us in these hallowed halls, but darkness did - and there are those who would do terrible deeds to prevent that truth from being known,"
"I'm - we're at Hogwarts now. My friends Hermione and Ron are with me, reading over my shoulder. We want to find out about the Chamber of Secrets." Harry wrote. The wait for the ink to sink into the page felt almost agonising.
"I know all about the Chamber of Secrets - about how the true culprit was allowed to go free, and how the monster escaped justice,"
"Can you tell us about it?" Harry wrote, her handwriting messy from excitement.
"No."
"But I can show you." Riddle wrote, and Harry found herself pulled forward by some invisible force. She seemed to almost be sucked in to the Diary, and then there was a flash of bright light. When it faded, she found herself, Ron, and Hermione standing in and oddly grey Hogwarts corridor.
"Where are we?" Harry wondered as she looked around, and then she noticed where she was. Dumbledore's office, but with all trace of whimsy wiped away. Gone were the whirling knick-nacks, the bright spinning orbs, the phoenix. Leatherbound books in neatly ordered rows replaced them, most of them clearly never read.
In Dumbledore's place sat a man she'd never seen before. No, she had seen him once before - as a portrait in Dumbledore's office. Then things began to move. She heard Riddle talk with Dippet, saw him descend down into the dungeons, and confront Hagrid. Saw him raise his wand and say 'Bombarda' in his cruel drawl, saw Hagrid leap in front of the curse to protect a dog-sized spider. Saw Riddle try to curse the spider once more, and miss.
Then, with jarring suddenness, Harry found herself and her friends back at the common room table. Harry felt cold. Combined with what she'd learnt from Malfoy... the diary trying to show her that vision could only mean one thing.
"Fifty years ago... it was Riddle," Harry said, not quite believing it. He'd sounded so noble as the diary, but she couldn't see any other way Hagrid could have been framed. Riddle had opened the Chamber of Secrets, killed someone, and gotten away with it.
"Must have been. Only one question though, Harry. Where's the diary?" Ron asked, and they all looked down. Where the diary had been sitting was only a spilled inkpot, and a rapidly drying stain.
A/N: I'm not going to repeat scenes that would just be almost word for word from the books. Well, we had a little book and movie blending here.
"I've tried everything I could think of, Harry," Hermione said as she put her Revealer away. It was a magical gadget that made little sparks and revealed invisible ink, but it had found nothing on the pages of Tom Riddle's diary.
None of their spells, nor even Hermione's Revealer could make anything show up on the blank pages of the diary. It seems Tom Riddle had bought a diary from a shop on Vauxhall Road, enchanted it against danger, and then forgotten about it. Harry still didn't think it was a coincidence, she couldn't think of anything else to try.
"I bet you Riddle was just a forties version of Percy and enchanted all his books, Harry. Have you seen the size of his trophy in the trophy room?" Ron said, and Harry shook her head in surprise.
"He has a trophy in there?" Harry asked.
"For 'Special Services to the School'. Sounds like a right tosser, if you ask me," Ron said, and Harry felt inclined to agree with him. Hermione pursed her lips in a look of disapproval. Harry stashed the book deep in her trunk, convinced that there was something more to it, and the excitement of the Christmas holidays soon distracted her.
She and her friends spent their time playing wizard's chess, getting into snowball fights with the Weasleys and only worrying a little over the Heir of Slytherin. Harry's life was, without thinking Malfoy was plotting to kill her friends, nice enough that she felt little drive to investigate further. She thought back to little Colin Creevy, lying petrified, and was occasionally guilty - but nothing she tried on the diary worked, and she had no further leads.
Soon enough, several weeks had passed and the holiday came to an end. Students filled the halls once more, and Harry found herself back in the Hospital Wing, looking rather nervously up at Madam Pomfrey.
"Now, Potter, the muggle doctor Granger's parents were able to put me in touch with managed to give me a few ideas. While I can't give you something to make your problem better, I can give you something that will stop it from getting worse. A simple potion, taken once a week, that will prevent any progress through a male puberty. Does that sound like it would help for now?" Pomfrey said, and Harry beamed. It wasn't what she really wanted, but just knowing that it wasn't going to get worse - that was enough for now.
"Definitely," Harry said, eagerly.
"Good. You should find doses on your bedside table every Sunday morning from now on. Hopefully, you won't need to take these for too long - I think I have something that would allow you to experience female puberty almost right, but I'll need to make certain it works before giving it to you. Anything further is a bit beyond my skills, I'm afraid, but you are lucky to attend a school run by a very open-minded master of transfiguration and alchemy," Pomfrey said.
"You didn't tell Professor Dumbledore about me, did you?" Harry asked, worried. She'd die of embarrassment.
"I told him it was for a student, but nothing more. He, of course, knew what that muggle word - 'transgender' meant without me explaining it to him. Where he finds the time..." Pomfrey muttered as she got a small clear glass of cherry-red potion out. Harry drank it eagerly and was surprised to find it tasted mostly like cheap cough medicine.
"Thank you again for this, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said.
"Just doing my job, Harry dear. I'm just glad to see you in here for a good reason, rather than another near-fatal act of heroics. Now, off you scarper," Pomfrey said, smiling. Harry eagerly left the hospital wing, to see Ron and Hermione waiting outside.
"Was she able to help you, Harry?" Hermione asked as they walked out onto the grounds to enjoy their Sunday afternoon.
"She gave me a potion to stop it getting worse-"
"Dying, are you Potter?" Draco Malfoy said in his mocking drawl.
"I'm better than ever, Malfoy. You'll have to find some actual talent if you want to win the Cup next year," Harry said, to even Hermione's laughter.
"Got any letters from daddy recently?" Ron said with an evil grin. Draco went white, and he went for his wand - only for Harry to be faster.
"Expeliarmus!" she shouted, just as Snape had done to Lockhart in the duelling club. Malfoy went stumbling backwards as Harry plucked his wand out of the air. Crabbe and Goyle moved a step or two towards the trio, but Ron and Hermione had their wands out now. "Now what should I do with this?" Harry wondered allowed, then an evil grin crossed her face. "Fetch, Malfoy!" she shouted and threw the wand as far as she could across the green. He went running after it, and all three Gryffindors were reduced to tears of laughter.
"I'll get you for this, Potter - you and your pet mudblood!" Draco shouted, but Harry found it hard to be intimidated by Draco Malfoy after finding out he wasn't the Heir.
She wasn't laughing a little more than a week later, however, when Hermione showed her the front page of the Daily Prophet at breakfast.
EXCLUSIVE: POTTER A PARSELTONGUE?
Explosive allegations coming out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have rocked this reporter. It seems that the fabled Boy Who Lived is more than a hero and a Quiddich sensation - he might be a dark wizard in the making! Multiple sources - pureblood and muggle-born alike - have confirmed to this reporter that Britain's Boy Hero displayed the dark talent during a school-sanctioned duel. Some of the students I spoke to claimed Potter was trying to stop a summoned snake from attacking another, uninvolved student, whilst others (who this reporter must sadly judge as both more numerous and more credible) claim he was "egging it on,"
This news surely raises new questions as to the events of that fateful day almost twelve years ago - is the unknown power that let our hero defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named darker in nature than some (especially Albus DUmbledore) have led us to believe? This reporter can't answer that question right now, but it is my promise to you, our devoted readers, that I will continue to search for the truth no matter the opposition.
(Continued Page 5. More Potter News in the sports section, Page 78)
- Rita Skeeter
"I bet you anything Malfoy's behind this," Ron said, looking a little apologetic for having started their fight a week ago.
"Don't beat yourself up over it, Ron. Half the school thinks I'm the Heir of Slytherin already," Harry said, focusing on arranging her bacon, toast, and eggs into a sandwich.
"This could be bad, Harry. Lots of people read Skeeter," Hermione said.
"Even if they do Hermione, not like I can do anything about it," Harry said, and then ate her sandwich. She'd need it for today's first lesson - defence with Lockhart. He'd been making worrying rumblings lately about a 'Valentine's Day Pick-Me-Up' for the school. Harry thought that there might be worse things in life, but only barely.
"Now class, today we're going to be examining how I bravely banished the Bandon Banshee. Now we'll need a volunteer from the girls to play the part..." Lockhart said, as just about every girl in the classroom raised their hands. Ron made an audible gagging noise, and Harry agreed with him.
After an hour of excruciatingly boring performances from one of Lockhart's books (as all his lessons had been after the pixie incident), Harry was almost looking forward to potions.
"Ah Harry, mind hanging back for a little chat?" Lockhart said as students began to depart. Harry sighed, but sat back down. "There's a good lad. Now, about that story in the paper - clever work my boy, clever work indeed! Why I should have seen it earlier - you're a growing young man, and the squeaky clean hero image didn't fit. What a way to add a little edge - you know, I'm sure I could get you a word with Rita," Lockhart said, and Harry felt like she'd been punched in the gut. People still called her 'Mr Potter' and 'he', since the only students she'd told about her being a girl were Ron and Hermione. But this hurt.
"N-no thank you, professor," Harry said, and scampered to leave the classroom. In her haste, though, she knocked over one of her inkpots. It went tumbling and ink-stained the bottom of her bag. She quickly managed to get her books out of harm's way, but she felt despair as she noticed that book in the bottom of her bag. Tom Riddle's diary was soaked with ink. Hastening from the classroom before Lockhart could try and help her, Harry noticed with fascination as the ink seemed to be sucked up into the diary.
Harry suddenly felt very stupid for not trying to write in the diary before now. She'd have to catch up with Ron and Hermione, and then they could test it out that night.
Late that night, the three of them sat in their pyjamas around a table in the common room, lit by the dying fire. Everyone else had gone to bed, and so they had an excellent chance to examine the diary.
"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I saw it suck up the ink... I think we should at least try writing in it," Harry said.
"Don't blame me if you end up cursed, mate," Ron said. Harry rolled her eyes, dipped her quill in some more secure ink, and began to write.
"My name is -" she began, only to pause. Harry was a boy's name. She wasn't sure if she wanted to change it, especially since there wasn't an easy female equivalent, but it still felt a little odd. -"Harry Potter," she continued. Maybe she could talk to Hagrid, find out if her parents had had any names ready for a girl, she thought.
All three of them felt their eyes go wide as the ink sunk into the page, and new words formed in reply.
"Hello, Harry. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?" it asked, and Harry looked at Ron and Hermione.
"I told you we should write in it!" Harry said with a grin.
"Blimey, that's not something you see everyday. How's it doing that, Hermione?" Ron asked.
"I... I don't know, Ronald," Hermione said.
"I found it in a toilet. Someone threw it at a ghost," Harry wrote.
"Then it is to both our good fortune that I recorded my memories in a form far more durable than ink and paper. That there would be those who did not want others to hear the truth - the truth I wrote of in this diary - was something I expected,"
"What do you mean, Tom?" Harry asked.
"This diary was written in a dark year - for the world as a whole, of course, and yet also for Hogwarts. War did not touch us in these hallowed halls, but darkness did - and there are those who would do terrible deeds to prevent that truth from being known,"
"I'm - we're at Hogwarts now. My friends Hermione and Ron are with me, reading over my shoulder. We want to find out about the Chamber of Secrets." Harry wrote. The wait for the ink to sink into the page felt almost agonising.
"I know all about the Chamber of Secrets - about how the true culprit was allowed to go free, and how the monster escaped justice,"
"Can you tell us about it?" Harry wrote, her handwriting messy from excitement.
"No."
"But I can show you." Riddle wrote, and Harry found herself pulled forward by some invisible force. She seemed to almost be sucked in to the Diary, and then there was a flash of bright light. When it faded, she found herself, Ron, and Hermione standing in and oddly grey Hogwarts corridor.
"Where are we?" Harry wondered as she looked around, and then she noticed where she was. Dumbledore's office, but with all trace of whimsy wiped away. Gone were the whirling knick-nacks, the bright spinning orbs, the phoenix. Leatherbound books in neatly ordered rows replaced them, most of them clearly never read.
In Dumbledore's place sat a man she'd never seen before. No, she had seen him once before - as a portrait in Dumbledore's office. Then things began to move. She heard Riddle talk with Dippet, saw him descend down into the dungeons, and confront Hagrid. Saw him raise his wand and say 'Bombarda' in his cruel drawl, saw Hagrid leap in front of the curse to protect a dog-sized spider. Saw Riddle try to curse the spider once more, and miss.
Then, with jarring suddenness, Harry found herself and her friends back at the common room table. Harry felt cold. Combined with what she'd learnt from Malfoy... the diary trying to show her that vision could only mean one thing.
"Fifty years ago... it was Riddle," Harry said, not quite believing it. He'd sounded so noble as the diary, but she couldn't see any other way Hagrid could have been framed. Riddle had opened the Chamber of Secrets, killed someone, and gotten away with it.
"Must have been. Only one question though, Harry. Where's the diary?" Ron asked, and they all looked down. Where the diary had been sitting was only a spilled inkpot, and a rapidly drying stain.
A/N: I'm not going to repeat scenes that would just be almost word for word from the books. Well, we had a little book and movie blending here.
Strawberry
Dessert Faerie
- Location
- Derbyshire, UK
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I wonder if the diary realised the jig was up?
I'm not actually super interested in this beyond owning JK Rowling a bunch but that's 100% fine and entertaining on it's own.
Actually that's a lie, Harry basically having as best of a time possible surrounded by friends who care about her is good
Actually that's a lie, Harry basically having as best of a time possible surrounded by friends who care about her is good
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Page 78?! That's a thick newspaper.
- Location
- Kent, WA
If you can fit endless pages, why stop? Wizards...
