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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

There were times when Harry was confused about what was going on around him. It wasn't like he didn't understand what was going on. He knew perfectly well that Aunt Petunia favoured her own son over him, took his toys (really, they were Dudley's old ones and ones he found broken and abandoned behind stores and schools), and didn't buy him clothes that he wished he could own. He just didn't understand why. He didn't understand why, at the age of three, why he disliked the baggy clothes that used to belong to Dudley only days ago and then a couple days later loved them. He didn't understand why Aunt Petunia wouldn't let him try on any of the dresses or skirts that were in the girls section while at the shop. He wondered, then, if he truly was what they sometimes called him: freak.

By the age of nine, he managed to get over the uncomfortable feeling his clothes sometimes left him and how he was called. Or, that's what he told himself everyday. In all actuality, he just got used to it and struggled on those particular days when he didn't feel like himself, where he was denied the opportunity to wear what he really wanted for that day, and tried to ignore the shivers of disgust that went down his spine when someone called him "boy" or "young man" or even "laddie" when someone outside of England was in the area. He knew what they were saying and what they were calling him. He just didn't understand why he was feeling this way.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon wasn't even an option when he wanted to ask questions. They usually pushed him aside anyways, especially when Dudley was concerned. There were times when he truly needed them and they only paid attention if it were (A) life and death or (B) would smear their good name in the community. So he didn't bother going to either of them when he felt the unstable feelings he felt nearly half the week or, on the rare occasions, every other month. So he spent most of his life gazing longingly at the pretty skirts and shoes and shirts and dresses some of his classmates wore, admiring the dainty lace on Sally's new shirt or fighting the urge to ask Hannah if he could feel the soft velvet of her new dress that she wore for picture day.

There was one moment, in January of the new year, when he was able to ask all his questions. A rather young looking librarian had started at the community library, bringing in the new age of hip ideas. She gladly welcomed anyone that had questions so when Harry came around, she gladly took him aside. They spoke in a quiet room and Harry burst forth with all the questions he had been saving since he was three.

Why did he want to wear the things his aunt wore on some days but wanted to wear things his uncle did on others? Why did he feel sick when he was forced to wear the clothes that belonged to his cousin but sometimes didn't mind it? Why does Harry want to wear nice things that some of the girls at primary wore when his aunt said he couldn't? Why didn't he like being called "boy" when, technically, he was?

He listed off so many questions so quickly that the young librarian, Erica, had to ask the dark haired boy to slow down, a worried frown marring her face. She then took each question in stride.

And then Harry finally understood.

At the age of three, he realized that sometimes he wanted to be a girl. That he wanted to feel pretty and confident and wear the nice skirts and dresses that were offered in all stores. That sometimes he wanted to just wear pants and be a boy. Sometimes he didn't feel like either but wore his "boy" clothes anyways because it didn't bother him as much because it could be considered as either. That when he was called "boy" or "young man" or even "laddie" when someone outside of England was int he area was because those times he wanted to be "girl" or "young lady" or even "lass" when it was needed. Sometimes, when he didn't feel like either, he wanted to just be "Harry". Erica had explained, though, that not many people were accepting of what she called "genderfluid". That when they found out they retaliated with the only thing they knew would work: hate. The same worked for those that had different sexualities or preferred to be the gender they weren't born as because they felt like that gender. 

Harry was scared. He knew, at that point Harry knew that he felt like a he, that if his aunt or uncle or cousin knew about his gender identity, they would respond exactly like they did when something "freaky" happened. They would hit him, or worse, kill him if they deemed it necessary. Not that he felt it was, but it's not like they ever considered Harry's feelings anyways.

He asked one final questions to Erica: Why didn't anyone like those that were like him?

"Because they don't understand something they've never experienced," she responded, rubbing his back gently, giving Harry comfort. "They were raised to believe one thing and when someone suggests something different, they react with the same thing they've seen others react. They don't try to understand why some people like others of the same gender or feel like they were meant to be a man when they were born a woman. And sometimes, if a man that realizes he's attracted to another man, he denies it so much that he joins those that hate people like him. Because he's scared that if he comes out with those feelings the same hurt that others like him are going through will be turned to him and that he'll get hurt or worse, killed."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Harry had asked, looking at his worn out sneakers. 

"First, understand who you are. Take your time. You don't have to prove to anyone right away on who you are. But realize that the longer you take the harder it will be to find those that will understand who you think you are. And when you do find those people, tell them so that they'll understand you better."

"What if they don't like it?"

"Then they didn't deserve you in the first place."

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

It wasn't until he was ten that he decided to do something about his dysphoria. He worked on a deal with a neighbor and Aunt Petunia - after school he'd do yard-work for Number 2 and get 15 pounds a week afterwards. Then he'd head back to Number 4 and finish the rest of his chores there. Of course, his aunt was just glad that Harry would be out of the house more and didn't have to deal with him, but Harry still grumbled about the fact that he still had chores to do there as well. At least he still got paid.

Number 2 were actually very nice, despite the fact that they had been fed lies from his aunt and uncle for the past nine years. The husband and wife, both in their elderly years, gave him a quick snack when he came over as well as a bottle of water to take out with him while he's doing the yard. Mrs. Williams, the wife to Mr. Williams, usually gave him a list of what he was to do that day. If Harry finished early then he was allowed a piece of candy (which he didn't really eat because it seemed quite old). Mr. Williams was usually inside the garage so sometimes the two boys where working on something at the same time. On particularly good days, Mr. Williams would open the garage door and play something on the radio, usually something from a decade or so ago, but Harry didn't really mind. Music was still music, even if some of the songs were terrible to work with.

By the time Christmas passed and February rolled around, Harry had enough money to buy clothes that he wanted and would actually fit him, including some he was sure he had to hide from Aunt Petunia's scrutiny. Those he hid in a pillow case, which he was sad to do for the fabric was sure to wrinkle, but he knew he wouldn't be able to wear it any time soon. Spring Break was just around the corner and he was sure his aunt and uncle would take Dudley somewhere for a couple of days, leaving Harry to fend for himself with Mrs. Figg that was down the road.

That meant that, if he was feeling up to it, he got to wear his pretty dress and his brand new skirt when he felt like being a girl or neither. It wasn't like Mrs. Figg was going to keep a close eye on him anyways and he doubts that she'd be able to tell the difference anyways once he set one of her many strange cats on his lap.

Spring Break had passed and he relished in his new clothes, warming his pale skin in the sunlight. When he rained he borrowed Mrs. Figg's umbrella and splashed around in the puddles, laughing as he went.

But he never got the chance to wear his nice clothes for a really long time, not until everything around him became strange.

Letters began to appear after Dudley's eleventh birthday. After the entire snake fiasco at the zoo (which, was pretty funny, to Harry, really, even after the intense atmosphere Uncle Vernon was sending after him) and the fact that so many owls had appeared on their front lawn. Harry was punished severely, a line of bruises going down his arms and his back had felt sore for quite some time.

After a week of nothing but hundreds of letters to Harry flying through any possible hole, Uncle Vernon had exploded on Sunday, when thousands rained down upon the inhabitants of Number 4. Harry rejoiced at seeing the panic running through his aunt, uncle and cousin, jumping up to try and catch one of his letters, just to see what made his extended family so frightened. There's a possibility of him even using that fear against them, to protect himself more than anything.

He was wrenched away when he found jumping around to be useless and began to reach down to one of the many envelopes littering the sitting room floor. Uncle Vernon was screeching and his face was beet red, Aunt Petunia and Dudley racing after them as they left the sitting room, slamming the door behind them. 

"I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack so clothes. No arguments!" Vernon had yelled. Harry's eyes widened. Clearly his obese uncle had snapped and was going to murder Harry and bury his corpse somewhere far away while his family escaped,

But with a glare in his direction, Harry ran to his new bedroom, the one given to him after his first letter arrived with "cupboard under the stairs" written as the address, and packed what he could. He stuffed his pretty dress and skirt underneath his boy clothes, even dragging the shiny black flats he had just bought, stuffing rolled up socks in them and then hiding them in a pillowcase. His other pair of sneakers, another of Dudley's old pairs that were much too big for him, went above them.

In ten minutes the four of them were packed into his uncle's car, driving away to who knows where. It was hours later, after Dudley howled and complained about having the worst day ever, that they finally stopped at a rather suspicious and dingy hotel at the outskirts of some big city. They left the next morning after another letter arrived for him, and they stopped multiple times, only continuing onwards after Uncle Vernon stepped out, surveyed the area, shook his head, and got back in to the car to continue to drive. 

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" his cousin asked his mother after Vernon left them locked in the car on the coast. It was raining. Dudley sniffled some more, muttering about some television program that happened on Monday...

Monday...

That meant tomorrow was Tuesday.

And if Harry did his math right, that meant that tomorrow was his eleventh birthday. He was partially excited, for he's never really been anywhere for his birthday. But for the most part he knew that there wasn't really anything to do, for his aunt and uncle never really got him anything that was worth while for him, usually something old and useless. Like one of Vernon's old pair of socks.

When his uncle came back, he was carrying a long thin package, spouting out that he found the perfect place, leading the other three to a boat, where an older gentlemen had "kindly" let them borrow a boat. But it wasn't all sunshine. In fact, everything was cold and miserable as ice cold water sprayed on everyone as Uncle Vernon rowed them all to the house on the rock. They nearly slipped, multiple times, as they climbed out and towards the broken down house.

During all these events, Harry wasn't surprised to see his relatives pass out as soon as everything was set out enough to be livable. Harry was stuck on the floor of the living room as his cousin snored away on the couch. He had drawn out a cake on the floor, counting down the time till the birthday arrived on the rather expensive watch on Dudley's arm, which was hanging off the couch.

And as he counted down, breathing slowly as he prepared to blow out the sand candles.

5...

Another slow breath out.

4...

Another breath in.

3...

Breathe out.

2...

Breath in.

1...

As Harry blew out the eleven drawn out candles, a boom sounded, resonating the with storm that was raging outside the shambles they called a house. Except the boom came from only meters away, as the door to the house slammed to the ground and a large burly figure stood in the door, casting a long shadow as lightening cracked and thunder responded only milliseconds later.

A giant had appeared, and Harry felt like they came for him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

His name was Hagrid. No last name. Just Hagrid. Harry found that to be odd but apparently so was she... well, according to her family she was odd anyways so she guesses that's alright. Hagrid was nice. Really nice. So if he was odd than so was she. Because only the odd ones can be nice.... so far, at least.

What probably helped Harry like him better than her family was the fact that he actually scared them so much that after they returned from their trip to Diagon Alley she was granted a couple weeks of pure silence from all three Dursleys. It was a little torturous, being ignored for an entire month, but she wasn't forced to do anything she didn't want to.

She woke up excited on September 1st. Harry leapt out of her new bed (it wasn't really a real mattress but it was definitely better than the cot she slept on when she was still in the cupboard. All her school things had been packed neatly the night before, including her new set of uniforms: some male, some female. She had pulled Madam Malkins aside, quietly asking her for a set of girls school robes as well as a couple of nice skirts and dresses for casual wear on weekends. The woman didn't seem to mind, though she wondered if it was because of her hero status but shrugged and let the woman get to work. 

She dressed in jeans and a fuzzy sweater, slipping on a pair worn sneakers that had clearly lost some of their soles but it didn't matter. She'd switch into some wizarding robes on the train before anyone comes in and wear the new flats that she had bought with some of the money in her vault. 

When it was time to go, her aunt, uncle and cousin were packed into the car and waiting for her. It seemed like Dudley was still weary over Harry, not that she really minded, for as soon as she sat besides him in the back, he had squished himself against the door and preceded to try and cover the pig tail that was still attached to his backside. She felt a little sorry for the misery he had to go through but shrugged it off, thinking of the many years he's done worse things to her.

The drive was silent and it was half past ten when they reached King's Cross station. Her uncle had "kindly" dumped her trunk on a nearby trolley and wheeled it into the station for her. She was weary of him as he continued until they reached platforms nine and ten.

"Have a good term," her uncle snickered as he walked away, a nasty smile on his face. Harry's face would have paled if she didn't think magic was certainly in the works. Maybe the platform was hidden to Muggle eyes or something...? She was sure none of the Muggles near the Leaky Cauldron could see the sign, nor any of the oddly dressed wizards that mingled about. She didn't at first but now she sort of could recognize who was a wizard and who was just plain odd.

She just stood to the side, near platform ten, and waited. There were many people mingling around so she didn't look at all weird for just standing there. Harry tried her best to just look like she was waiting for a parent or guardian to come back, not waiting to see if there was some secret passage to get to the magical platform that a giant man gave to her so she could go to a school to learn magic.

It wasn't until she was tempted to just go back home and face the music that she heard a passing group say: "...packed with Muggles, of course..."

She never turned so fast in her life. 

The speaker was a rather plump woman with bright red hair, talking to four boys with varying shades of red locks that would make any woman jealous. Each of them had a trunk that looked similar to Harry's, minus the little girl clinging to her mother, and an owl was even on one! 

As casually as possible (or ACAP if you cared to know) she pushed her trolley to follow them, ears straining to listen. When they stopped, so did she, looking as if she was waiting for them to go. She didn't notice the red haired woman looking at her with a small smile on her face.

"Now, what's the platform number?" she asked her children.

"Nine and three-quarters!" her daughter answered, looking much younger than everyone else. Harry wondered if she was going to Hogwarts as well but remembered there were four trunks there, not five. "Mom, can't I go..."

"You're not old enough, Ginny," her mother hushed her. "Now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

The oldest of the bunch nodded and seemed to march to situate himself in front of the wall. Harry was reminded of a prince, though a rather pompous one, that she's read in stories. She shook her head of the thought and watched with rapt attention as he began to run at the dividing barrier between the two platforms, not flinching a bit as his trolley came close to crashing.

She blinked in surprise as he vanished through the wall, quickly checking around her to see if anyone else saw that vanishing boy but was satisfied to see none of the Muggles even looking their way.

"Fred, you next," the mother said. She gestured to one of the twins, who stepped forwards with his own trunk.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George! Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?" he cried, a playful lilt in his voice.

"Sorry, George, dear," his mother replied, ushing him forwards with a small wave of her hands, trying to get their small group moving.

Just as he was about to run, the twin smirked and said, "Only joking, I am Fred." And then he was off. His brother, George, Harry assumed, called after him and ran through the wall next.

The youngest of the four boys went next and after he went, the plump woman noticed her staring.

"You going to Hogwarts to, I supposed?" she questioned, motioning Harry to come forwards. Harry did so, nodding shyly and flushed at being caught staring. "It's alright, dear, no need to be so bashful. The trains nearly leaving soon so you should get going through. I'm guessing this is your first year too?"

Harry nodded again.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous." She gave a gentle squeeze to Harry's shoulder and Harry felt a rush of warmth enter her body.

"Er... Okay," she said. She did as the other boys did, situated her trunk and tried not to feel too uncomfortable with the little girl staring at her with an intense gaze. When she was sure and ready, she rushed at the wall, closing her eyes unconsciously and nearly skidded to a halt until she went through the barrier.

She was greeted with a rush of voices and the vision of a scarlet steam engine with the golden words Hogwarts Express printed on the front. 

Harry felt the flutter of excitement and she preceded to board the train and find a compartment to fit her stuff and waited.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Harry made sure to snag an empty carriage as soon as possible. Not only would it be easier to relax in but it would mean she didn't have to try and be friendly to get a seat in an already full compartment from people who would, no doubtedly, recognize who she was. Well, if they managed to glimpse her scar, at least. She was sure her bangs, which have grown out more than they were when she first entered the wizarding world, covered most of her forehead and the lightning bolt scar that hung directly above her left eye. 

She made sure her luggage was secured safely above her on the rack before slumping down into the maroon and green checkered seats of the train. The leather seats were a little sticky, but she figured it was because of the heat rather than the lack of cleanliness. 

The inkette sat like that for about ten minutes, just gazing lazily out the window as the train began to move out of the station as she unconciously picked at the seat. She wished she wore one of her new skirts that morning, the baggy pants that belonged to Dudley were just a little too thick for a mildly warm day. 

A knock at her capartment door startled her out of her zoning. Lazily moving her vivid green eyes to the other side, she saw a group of children around her age. A blond boy who she vaguely remembers seeing in Madam Malkin's, a girl whose face resembled that of a pug with her upturned nose, and a boy with straight brown hair and glasses that seemed way skinnier and taller than the other two he was with.

"Do you mind if we sit with you?" the girl asked. Despite her rather upturned nose and squished face, Harry couldn't help but admire that there was something uniquely pretty about her. Maybe it was the short and neat brown bob of hers that framed her face. Either way, Harry felt a little jealous she couldn't get her hair to get to look like that.

"Hello?"

Harry blushed as she realized that she was cuaght just staring rather than answering, so she stammered out a 'yes' and awkwardly watched as the three of them situated themselves in her capartment. 

"I recognize you from Madam Malkin's shop," the blond boy said after a few minutes of silence between them all. He was situated across from Harry, as the pug-faced girl was besides him and the brunet boy was besides Harry. The latter had pulled out a book as soon as he sat down, adjusting the square glasses he had perched on his thin nose. "You didn't know what Quidditch was."

"I've been raised by Muggles, of course I didn't know what Quidditch was," Harry couldn't help but say, and she hoped immediately after that the haughty boy wouldn't flush red and start to go off on her like Dudley or Vernon would have.

"Oh, that makes sense then," the boy nodded, though he did look a little put out at Harry's attitude. "You never did tell me your surname."

"It's common curtesy to give your own name before asking for someone elses," Harry replied. She also wanted to figure out the blond a little more before she gave out her name. She understood her popularity with just her name and a scar, she didn't want to start off her school year with fake friends.

"Of course. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Besides me is my friend Pansy Parkison and the boy besides you is Theodore Nott," the blond, Draco, said. 

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter," she responded, bracing herself for a sudden change in attitude. 

"I knew you'd be on this train this year," Draco smirked, puffing out his chest. "I told my father I'd try to befriend you. Of course it would benefit my father very much if I was, you would be a good political ally for him. But I feel like he could wait a few more years until you've matured in the wizarding world, since you're raised by Muggles and all."

"In short, Draco would like you all to himself before he introduces you to his father," Pansy translated. "In short, Draco wants to be your friend but he's too proud to say it that simply to someone unused to his annoying attitude."

"Um... I'm not sure," Harry looked down at her hands, playing with the ends of her old baggy shirt.  "I've never been allowed friends before."

"What do you mean?"

"My cousin was a bit jealous and chased off any that I managed to make when I went to school," she admitted.

Pansy frowned a little but scootched forwards in her seat and placed a dainty hand on Harry's fidgeting ones, allowing the latter to notice the difference between herself and the other much more than before. Her skin was much softer than anything she's ever felt. 

"Well, I'm sure we'd be glad to be your first friends. Of course, I understand that some of us might first use you for an advantage over everyone else and yoy may be wary, but please be patient with us," she said, giving a small smile that didn't particularly make her face look any prettier than it was. 

But Harry still felt flattered that someone, a girl especially, wanted to be her friend.

"I'd like that. To both of you, of course," Harry gave a nervous smile to the two in front of her. A grunt besides her caused her to look to her right in confusion. 

"What am I, chopped toad liver?" Nott frowned. 

"U-Um, we can be friends too."

"Better."

Harry was still unsure about the three students that were in her capartment but she still felt better knowing someone at Hogwarts aside from Hagrid, who she even barely knew despite spending a whole day with him weeks ago. At least with these three they were easier to read than an adult who's had years of blocking out emotions. 

What she did know from these three were that they were raised as Purebloods. They didn't appreciate Muggles as much as the next Pureblood but they tolerated Muggleborns, those that were born with magic by Muggles. Whatever that meant she had yet to figure out, but at least she knew she wouldn't be totally hated by Purebloods in general, since she learned from Nott ("Please, call me Theo. Nott is my father, and I don't mean that to sound charming.") that she was a Half-blood thanks to her Muggleborn mother and Pureblood father.

Pansy was possibly the easiest to befriend. She acted almost similar to Erica the Librarian, with a charming demeanor and a soft and understanding approach to things depsite her appearance. Harry guessed she was given this side to Pansy Parkinson because of Harry's reaction to their initial meeting. Otherwise she was sure she'd be getting a cold demeanor from the darkhaired girl.

Draco was possibly the second easiest. There were times when he tried to act much older than he was, and Harry hypothesized that it came from his father figure in his life. Rarely were mother figures making boys act older than they were. Rarely. Other than that, when he did act his age, Draco Malfoy was an enjoyable bloke to be around, other than the haughty attitude she was told were in most Purebloods his age, especially if they were in Slytherin or Ravenclaw.

As for Theodore "Theo" Nott, he was surely an enigma. He was quiet and reserved and preferred to have his nose in the book he was reading but there were times where he'd speak in, letting the rest of them know that despite not being in the conversation he was still listening. Harry was reminded of her Aunt Petunia and her neighborhood tea parties, where her aunt used that time to gather gossip and information of the other houses in their neighborhood despite blending in slightly into the background. 

Halfway through the ride they were interrupted by a bushy haired girl and a blond boy asking about a toad. Malfoy was going to turn them away, when a small croak was heard in the compartment. 

Confused, the six of them (including the bushy haired girl and her friend) were looking around to spot where the noise could have been coming from. Another croak and Harry looked up, spotting a webbed foot atop of her trunk. 

Swiftly, Harry Potter jumped onto the maroon leather and latched her fingers around the toad, bringing it down and holding it away from her. It was slimy and not pleasant to hold but at least it was off her trunk.

"Is this him?"

Everyone turned around and the portly blond boy cried out happily as he took the toad from Harry's hands and thanking her profusely. He gave his thanks to the others, giving extra titles to the three Purebloods in her compartment before the girl and he left to their own carriage. 

"How'd he get up there? It's strange we didn't see the toad come in in the first place, considering it's an animal," Pansy pondered, tapping a finger to her chin.

Wiping her hands on the baggy pants to get the mucus off her fingers, all Harry could do was remember the other odd times animals, especially reptiles, were found suddenly in weird places around her. A smile graced her lips when she even remembered freeing the snake on Dudley's birthday and her large cousin was stuck in the enclosure instead.

"I don't know," she replied, though she did wonder if it was because of her magic. "Maybe it's just coincidence. Maybe Trevor was here the whole time."

"We'd have heard the toad if it was," Theo said. "But toads can be quiet if needed. Perhaps the toad was quiet until he recognized his owner?"

"Possibly," Draco continued. "Either way, I'm glad it's gone. We don't need a toad in here. It's incredibly icky."

Harry rose a brow. "Really? 'Icky'? That's the word you chose? Aren't you a high and mighty noble in this world?"

"Hey, I'm only eleven. And my father will definitely not hear about it."

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

As the sun began to set on the incredibly long train ride, Harry and the others shrugged off their coats or sweaters and slipped on the soft black robes over their day clothes. Harry still marveled at the quality of her robes, something she was getting used to, slowly, as the days since she learned of becoming a wizard continued. 

The four of them were lucky to do so, for as soon as Draco sat down, an announcement went through the train, announcing their arrival in five minutes time. Harry started to feel nervous once more. 

Theo and herself had talked about the four different houses a little bit before hand as they neared Hogwarts. She was glad he was a bit unbiased about it, unlike Draco and Pansy who praised Slytherin like Jesus himself was handpicked by Merlin himself. 

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Ravenclaw, the four houses of Hogwarts School of Witchccraft and Wizardry. One valued bravery and chivalry, another kindness and hardwork, the third cunning and ambition, and the last creativity and wit. How this all fit in and how she'd be sorted was what really concerned her, and what made butterflies swarm in her stomach from nerves.

As the train slowed to a stop, Harry began to lead the other three first years off the train. They passed some of the redheads that Harry saw earlier that day on the platform and the other two who were looking for Trevor the toad, the blonde boy waving shyly to Harry as they passed. 

Getting off the train, she looked around the tiny platform they were on, seeing the many heads going in all different directions. The taller forms of the older students were all heading towards what looked to be carriages, pulled by nothing, while everyone else, those closer to her height, were heading towards a familiar large figure with a lantern in hand, shouting for first years.

Shivering as a rather cold breeze nipped at her ears went past, she smiled and waved at Hagrid, who grinned right back at her, and continued to corral the other first years.

The cobblestone were slippery and wet as they walked behind Hagrid, the first years took care walking after one or two nearly slipped as they followed the giant man. As they rounded the bend towards the black lake, Harry's eyes caught sight of the large castle across the water. She tugged on Pansy's sleeve and pointed towards the magnificent fortress across the pond, gaining the rest of the others . 

Pansy gaped with Harry, eyes widening at the sheer size of the building before them. Others gapsed and awed at the sight before them. Even Theo, who didn't react much past basic emotions during the time that Harry knew him, seemed to grunt in his own version of surprise at the sight of the castle. 

"No more'n four to a boat!" the giant man called as they walked closer to the edge of the shore. Each boat had a pole with a lantern attached to the end, some leaning precariously near the water.

One by one, first years crawled into the boats. Harry got in with the three in her cabin, taking charge of holding onto the latern. Hagrid checked to make sure everyone was in a boat before settling in his own and leading the flotilla across the still waters. 

It was mostly silent as everyone moved along, the muggleborns in awe at the magic that was clearly at hand while the boats moved while some of the others whispered to those sitting next to them.

"My father told me that there's a giant squid underneath these waters," Draco whispered to Harry. He had been the last to enter the boat so he had the only open spot in the back, which was next to the inkette. "Supposedly you can see it better in the Slytherin dorms."

Harry couldn't help but look down at the waters, watching it ripple underneath them as they glided along, imageining a large squid passing under them, possibly even waving a tentacle at the new students as it swam by. It was rather cartoonish but a bit hilarious.

"Heads down!" Hagrid called out as the boats reached a cliff of the island. Everyone ducked their heads low as they entered underneath a curtain of ivy and through a dark and damp tunnel, the lanterns being the only light they had. It felt like forever before they reached the other side, where a stone dias climbed up from the waters.

They took turns getting out of the boat, Theo helping Harry prop the latern back on the boat before grasping her arm and helping her gain footing before she stepped out of the boat. She thanked him and they turned to follow the others that were clambering up the steps until they reached grass and then a large door. 

A large oak door.

"Everyone here?" the giant asked, looking over the heads of tiny children. When they nodded, he turned around and raised a giant fist, pounding on the door three times before stepping away. 

The door swung open suddenly and a tall, black haired witch wearing emerald green robes stepped into the light of the lanterns on the walls of the castle. She looked at all of them with a stern face and Harry felt like this was someone who she shouldn't cross. Not one bit.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, stepping a little bit to the side. 

"Thank you, Hagrid," the professor said. "I'll take them from here."

Pulling the door open wider, she lead the first years through the entrance hall. It was larger than the Dursley's house, so much larger you could fit it three times and still have room to stand on the roof. On the walls were torches, the flames bright and hot, even from a distance Harry could feel the flames heat, though it was warm and comfortable. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. Despite her brisk pace, the first years were easily able to catch up to her, though some were on boarding on a light jog through the entrance hall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses." 

The group entered a small chamber off the side of the hall. "The sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your houe will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards." Professor McGonagall seemed to heavily emphasis that line. "While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours." Her eyes scanned the faces of first years as she spoke.

"The sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you're waiting." Professor McGonagall seemed to stare pointedly at a specific few, but Harry wasn't really noticing who.

Instead she was trying her best to smoothe out her unruly hair. It was getting longer, nearly brushing the tops of her shoulders, but it wasn't too long that she knew when she felt like being her birth gender that it wouldn't annoy her and make her uncomfortable. She just hoped that it wasn't too all over the place and calm enough to look presentable. She didn't notice that McGonagall left until she felt she was ready.

"Where'd she go?" she asked Pansy, who was fixing the collar of her shirt while she looked into the armor of a nearby knight. Harry continued to fiddle with the ends of her hair. She wished she had a hair clip to pin her bangs back.

"She went to get the hall prepared for our entrance," she replied, running her hands through her dark brown locks. "I guess this is the best I can do on short notice..."

Harry bit her lip, fiddling with the edge of her shirt. Then she spoke again. "Do wizards hav--" 

Before she could finish, gasps from around the chamber interrupted her thoughts and she looked around, only to freeze at the sights of the ghosts entering the room. 

They weren't what she thought they would be. They looked nothing like what Ghost Busters showed them to be and she was quite thankful none were like Slimer. They were still transparent but more pearly and innocent looking and in no way looking to terrorize people or spouting pink goo that look like pepto-bismol. 

The ghosts didn't really seem to notice the open-mouthed first years sharing the room with them, and the rather large one seemed to be in a conversation with another.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance--"

"My dear Friar," the other ghost began," haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?" 

Now they realized where they were.

"New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?" the fat one, the Friar, asked. When no one answered he just laughed and wished to see them in Hufflepuff. Then the ghosts were gone as soon as Professor McGonagall, who shooed them out, came back.

"Now, form a line," she told the first years," and follow me."

The Great Hall was magnificent, for a castle. It gave off the same warmth the entrance hall did and the sky was magical. Harry wondered how they did that, if it was a charm or if it was some ritual that happened over time. In either case, it was cool to see the stars inside the room instead of out the window. Among the stars were candles, some floating higher than others, and below them all were the banners of the houses and the students that belonged to them; from left to right being Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

In only seconds, the first years were grouped together at the end of a small staircase, where a rather old and dusty hat sat on a stool, looking ready to fall apart. Behind it was what Harry guessed to be the professor's table, seeing as most of the adults were sitting among them. A seat was empty besides an older gentlman with half-moon glasses, so she guessed that was Professor McGonagall's spot.

During her musings, she missed the sorting hat song, though when Harry asked about it later she was glad to find out it wasn't all that important. She tuned back in when the hat belted out the last line and the hall fell into applause.

Professor McGonagall stepped forwards and grasped the old hat by the tip, a scroll settled underneath, which she grabbed as well with her other hand. 

"When I call your name," she said, her voice echoing throughout the hall, her accent thick. "You will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Then she started calling names.

The first few were Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. The first Slytherin was a Bulstrode, Millicent and the first Gryffindor was Brown, Lavender. Harry felt bad for Neville who looked ready to puke on his shoes when he was called up but politely clapped when he went into Gryffindor. 

She also clapped when Draco, Pansy and Theo also went into Slytherin, the former of the two puffing out his chest as he walked down after the hat barely touched his head. Harry just rolled her eyes.

Harry could feel her palms sweat as they neared her name. After a Perks, Sally-Anne, her name was finally called.

"Potter, Harry!"

As she stpped forwards, the hall went silent almost immediately before whispers started up seconds after. She was sure many weren't expecting how she looked or wasn't linving up to their built in expectations. She didn't care, to be honest. She just wanted to learn some magic and get away from her weird relatives.

Harry sat down on the stool and looked out at the sea of faces before the hat was placed onto her head, covering her eyes and preventing her from seeing the hoping looks of each table.

A small voice began to whisper into her ear, nearly startling her off of the seat. "I have met others like you, Miss Potter," it said. "Ones who have a mixed identity such as yours, though I am glad that you've managed to figure yours out without too much difficulty. But this isn't a conversation I should be having with you right now. I need to figure out where you'd fit in best."

At that point, Harry realized she was talking to the hat. The Sorting Hat that will show her which house will be her family at Hogwarts. 

"You have plenty of courage, so Gryffindor would be suitable. But I know that there are some in Gryffindor that aren't truly accepting of the feelings that you hold. Slytherin are where you already made friends, and while you'd fit there as well, it's probably not going to be as comfortable for you as it would be for them. While you have plenty of wit and creativity, it's not enough for you to go into Ravenclaw. All that's left is Hufflepuff. I see that you are loyal to those you care about, kind to everyone you meet, as you've been shown such kindness by those that truly care for you. I can tell you're hardworking... yes... I believe that will suit you best..."

Then outloud, the hat shouted," HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table with the black and gold banner jumped and cheered as the hat came off of Harry's head. Some were screaming, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" as they gave hi-fives to their friends. 

Harry stumbled down the steps to the cheering table, sitting next to some of the other first year Hufflepuffs and one of the older students, who gave her a smile in greeting.

Then she turned and watched the rest of the sorting with her housemates for the next seven years.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Hogwarts was truly an amazing place. In the few days that Harry was here, he had no doubtedly fallen in love the the castle.

The people? Well, that's debatable.

His only friends, so far, were Draco, Pansy and Theo, who had stuck by him during the first week. They were still kind enough to him, even going as far as partnering up with him in the classes they did have just so Harry wouldn't have to look around the classroom for another friendly looking face he was unfamiliar with.

Harry had begun to know some of his classmates, though. During potions he was partnered up usually with Padma Patil or Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw. The former of the two was very nice though seemed more focused on getting the work done than small talk while the latter, who was equally nice, didn't mind a joke or two being passed through idle conversation while pouring in crushed ingredients into their potion. Despite their kindness, he absolutely did not like their teacher, Professor Snape, who seemed to hold the same amount of dislike his way. Whatever was stuck up his arse obviously was shoved in too hard.

He shared Herbology with the Gryffindors, where he made it his mission to befriend Neville Longbottom who looked like one of the odd ones out in the group of red and gold. He realized that, even with his background of gardening, that Neville was far more superior on the subject of wizarding plants than Harry and he gladly asked questions to the blonde boy who, after a while, quickly responded with as much information that he could. Harry also, at times, shared the space with a Hermione Granger (who gave him odd looks at times, though he didn't think too hard on why) and a Seamus Finnigan (whose accent was so thick at times that Harry, who tried hard to understand, just nodded and hummed when it came to the point that he just did not catch a thing he said). 

Charms and Transfiguration were with the Slytherins and Harry met some more of his trio's friends. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were, probably, his favourites. There was something about their stupid behavior that made him think that it was all an act. At times, he swore they did something that was way smarter than many people thought of them but he had no way to prove it. He was fascinated at the two and wondered if they were only acting this way to gain some form of invisibility cloak among a crowd. If that was true, then they were very smart. If not, then they're probably just really lucky.

History of Magic, was insanely boring, even if it was exciting at first when they found out a ghost was teaching it. Harry used that time to catch up on other classwork and sometimes took a nap. Astronomy was similar, though that was because he didn't have to work to hard with stars and the fact that it was held at midnight.

Lastly, Defense Against the Dark Arts with just his 'Puffs. This he seemed to be somewhat decent at but the teacher was suspiciously idiotic at times. The classroom was constantly smelling of garlic and it made his eyes water with how potent it was on bad days and by the end of it he had the biggest headaches ever. It didn't mean he didn't understand what was being taught, no he got good marks on his work, but he just shrugged it off on the garlic that overpowered his senses.

Now it was the weekend again and Harry stood in his common room, reading the notice board to see if there was anything new for next week. There was a notice about the first flying lesson happening next Wednesday with the Ravenclaws and a couple of clubs that could be joined as first years. Harry was reading about the choir, noting down the toads involved, when he noticed a figure standing behind him.

Startled, he turned around and moved out of the way, apologizing.

The boy chuckled. "No need to apologize, you were fine where you were," he said, running a hand through his dark golden hair. "I just needed to see when Quidditch tryouts were happening."

"Quidditch?" Harry asked, before remembering his conversation with Draco. "Oh! Yeah, your fancy wizard football game thing."

The boy, who must've been a third or fourth year, laughed again. "I've never heard it described that way, but yes. I hope to tryout for the Seeker position this year."

"That's the one where you try and catch the golden ball, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I think I'd be pretty good at it. Been practicing all summer with my dad."

"Cool," Harry said. "I've been meaning to read up on Quidditch. I have a couple of friends who are interested in it, but I haven't had time to go to the library to find a book on it."

"You can borrow my copy of Qudditch Through the Ages, if you'd like?" the boy said. "It's a little worn but should still be a good read. Here, I'll go get it for you."

"U-Um you don't really need to, I can just get it from the library today."

"No, no, I insist, really," the older boy said, beginning to turn towards the hall that lead to the boy dorms. "Just give me a few minutes. I'll be back!"

And then he was gone. 

Harry stood there, feeling a little akward standing there in front of the board as he waited for him to come back as other Hufflepuffs mingled in the common room. He shifted a couple of times, stuffing his hands in his pocket and then bringing them back out to twist in front of him, only to bring them back to his pockets. After a few minutes he began to pick at his shirt, noticing a loose string starting to come out. 

The boy came back after five minutes, a book in hand as he jogged back to Harry, who had stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his jeans, discarding the string he snapped off in there. 

"Here," the boy said, holding it out. "Now you don't need to worry on rushing to read it to make it back on the due date." The older boy gave a smile at his small joke. Harry cracked a small one in return, even though he didn't find it very funny, and gave a small laugh as well.

"Thanks. Um, I'll try to give it back as soon as I read the entire thing! And I won't read it at the table, so nothing gets on it. And I won't let anyone else touch it, in case it gets lost or torn. And-"

"Haha, don't worry, Harry," the boy said. "It's okay if it comes back in terrible condition as long as you enjoy the read and learn something. I'm not too worried, since it is an old book. I'll see you around though." Then he turned to head out of the common room, though he stopped and turned back around.

"Though, when you do finish and I get the position, come to the games?"

"Er, yeah."

"Great!"

And then he was gone again, this time in the halls of Hogwarts.

Harry realized, then, that the boy never gave his name, though he knew him. He guessed he recognized who he was from the sorting and around school, but not once did he introduce himself. Harry didn't really mind, sometimes people forget, but it would've been a little nice.

Glancing at the book, where it was worn and well loved, he opened the cover and realized that there was writing in the front cover:

This book belongs to Cedric Diggory

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Halloween was something that Harry had always wanted to participate in on the other side of the door, getting the candy and dressing up like monsters and mythical beings. Instead, he was stuck at home, ordered to hand out any candy to non-freaky children while Vernon and Petunia took their Dudey-kins trick or treating. Of course, they never could tell if Harry ate any of the candy while they were gone. If he did, well, some kids were rather confused why an empty wrapper was in their bucket at the end of the night.

This year was no different. Being away from his extended family allowed Harry to, possibly, experience Halloween to its fullest. He had asked some of his wizarding friends if they dressed up during the holiday and was promptly disappointed when costumes were out of the question for wizards. 

"I'm one thousand percent sure that costumes are not allowed for Halloween at Hogwarts," Hermione Granger articulated, closing the book she had finished reading. Harry had come to her near the beginning of October for some studying help and during the free afternoons they both had, he and the bushy haired witch had gained some form of friendship. 

Harry pouted. "I was so sure that Draco and Pansy lied to me about that. I wanted to dress up as a penguin this year...." He didn't mention to her at all that he's always wanted to dress up as a penguin since he started primary school.

"I highly doubt that the two wizards that have grown up as wizards would lie to you about Halloween, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't wipe the small smile that appeared on her face. "And if you really want to be a penguin, maybe you can get a set of pajamas with penguins on them."

He sighed, laying his head on the table of the library as quietly as he could. "It just won't be the same, Hermione."

Hermione just rolled her eyes again and grabbed her next book to study. Harry, who had no desire to continue studying, stared out of the nearest window and just zoned out completely, thinking about whatever happened to pop into his head.

It didn't last long, however, for when Hermione slammed her book shut once more, Harry snapped out alongside it, wondering as Hermione stood up and grabbed her things. 

"Charms already?" he asked her.

"Yes. And if I have to sit next to Ronald Weasley one more time, I swear I might set this school on fire," she responded with a huff, a stray curl landing in her face. She didn't pay it any attention. 

"Please don't do it while I'm still on grounds," Harry groaned.

He knew all too well about Hermione's dislike for the Weasley of their year. Harry hadn't actually spoken to him yet, always being seated in a different spot by the time the redhead reached the classroom. He knew, of course, that Hermione's distaste for him was mutual, as Ronald has been heard in the corridors loudly agonizing over Hermione in a way that one would think they were quarreling lovers. 

"I give you no promises."

"Thanks, good luck."

And then she was off, leaving Harry alone in the library. He had truly meant his well wishes towards her. Despite being extremely excited for this day to roll around, a small part of him was also a bit nervous. Other years, when this holiday passed by, something bad always happened to him. Discounting the death of his parents, he got ran over by a group of kids riding bikes on his way home from school when he was six, kept bumping into the corners of walls when he was four, and, one time when he was eight, he kept burning his hand on the stove whenever he was cooking for his extended family. Of course he tried to look on the bright side that that evening he got at least two hours alone and a few stolen tasty treats, but the bad feeling that always came with Halloween.

And today was no exception.

The evening feast was absolutely.... interesting. From a muggle standpoint, Harry was breathlessly in awe. What looked to be over hundreds of live bats were flying over the Great Hall and through the enchanted ceiling, going around the floating pumpkins that held melting candles over their heads. The platters of food seemed to stretch on forever, a new dish added once one was completely empty. 

Harry was sure he had enough food to feed the Dursleys for an entire day, and that included the dessert, which counted as the many snacks Dudley would get when he whinged about being hungry. 

As he was helping himself to another piece of roasted chicken, Professor Quirrel, his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, came bursting through the large doors of the Great Hall, sweat running down his face. No doubt his purple turban did anything to help. 

He slumped against the teacher's table on the dais steps, panting and gasping for air. He had settled directly infront of Dumbledore, who's normally twinkling eyes no longer glimmered sharply in the candle light. The entire hall was silent, and most of the teachers and some of the prefects had stood up at attention with the sudden display of panic.

"Troll.... in the dungeons..." Quirrel spoke. "Though you out to know..."

And then he passed out on the floor, out cold.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Him

If Harry knew that a troll could’ve entered Hogwarts, one of the best schools for witchcraft and wizardry, and not even the man who was best known for dealing with trolls (boasted even a couple of times that trolls, cave trolls specifically, were his specialty) could handle it, he would’ve opted to stay with the Dursleys for another year. The panic that had swiftly coursed through the sea of students was high with static energy and it left the hairs on his arms raised at attention. A few seconds in and Harry thought he could see the magic of fear and terror rising from some of the younger and inexperienced children nearby, but with how old and terrible his prescription is, Harry doubted that such a thing was possible.

A few bangs whipped through the air, sparkles and firecrackers catching everyone’s attention as they sprung from Professor Dumbledore’s wand. 

“Prefects!” he called out once everyone had calmed enough for silence to envelope the Great Hall. “Lead your houses back to the dormitories, immediately!”

In a great wave, a tide of prefects gathered swarms of younger students in groups and began to guide them to their respective houses. Harry glanced worriedly at the Slytherins, wondering how they were going to fair on heading to the dungeon. Professor Quirrell did just come in looking haggard from said place.

Harry pushed his way through his clump of fellow Hufflepuffs and tried to get the attention of some of the older years, tugging on sleeves and poking arms. He was shaken off in an attempt to continue on their way past the kitchens. Being so small as well, Harry couldn’t do much physically as he was swept along with the other panicked children until they were all nestled safely in the common room. 

By now he was pretty frustrated and very worried for his Slytherin friends. As soon as he had an open space, he pushed through and waved for a nearby Hufflepuff prefect who was talking amongst a group of fellow yearmates.

“Excuse me?” he interrupted, waving a hand to get more of their attention. “But where are the Slytherins going to go?”

The young prefect raised their eyebrows. “To the dungeons, where their common room is, of course. Just like how we came here, the Gryffindors to theirs, and the Ravenclaws to theirs.” 

Harry frowned more. “Yes. But the troll is in the dungeons. Did anyone notice that?”

That seemed to make the prefect pause. They shared a look with their friends, uneasy, and looked ready to speak but was interrupted as Professor Sprout came bustling in. She began taking a headcount alongside the 7th year prefects, and Harry took that opportunity to leave the group of older kids by themselves and instead ask an adult for more help.

“Professor Sprout!” He called out, snaking through the clusters of Hufflepuffs. “If the troll is in the dungeon, where are the Slytherin students going to be?”

“Dear, don’t you worry about them,” she said, checking something off a piece of parchment. “We have already had those concerns, so Professors Snape and Flitwick have them sharing the common room with the Ravenclaws for the evening until the dungeons have been thoroughly checked through.”

Such a simple answer, and yet the relief he felt rushed through him felt much more complicated than he thought. At the same time, he didn’t realize how exhausted he felt until after he heard confirmation that Draco and the others would be safe away from the troll that managed to sneak its way into Hogwarts.

“Now, I need everyone’s attention!” Professor Sprout called out. In seconds, every Hufflepuff had their eyes trained on the portly woman. 

“We are still on the hunt for where this troll may be in the school. There has been, as of now, no incidents occurring to any students or teachers. However, until we are sure that the school is safe, we are having an early curfew for the night. Classes for tomorrow will be canceled as a precaution. The house elves will pass out a few treats for those who did not have time to finish their dinners.”

Professor Sprout continued to speak but Harry zoned out for the rest of it. He felt like he had to be somewhere, right now, but his body refused to move from his spot in the common room. A voice, as if it was whispering very loudly in his ears, both at once, telling him to explore the now empty halls, as if it wanted him to hunt the troll alongside his teachers.

But a bigger part denied this voice. It felt wrong, slimy and manipulative. Like feeling Uncle Vernon standing too close behind him and whispering into his ears with hot breath. Like cleaning the pans from bacon grease using only your fingers and then trying to wash them with oil instead of soap. It was not pleasant and it made Harry shiver.

It felt like hours before that wrong feeling finally left, but was most likely only a few minutes for as soon as Professor Sprout stopped talking, Harry felt like he could move again. This time on his own without the disturbing Uncle Vernon Bacon Grease voice egging him on. 

Like most, Harry turned towards his dorm, following the other boys down the stairs and into the first year dormitories. His body felt heavy as he changed into a pair of oversized pants and a baggy shirt with more holes in it than cloth. 

Then he laid under the thick covers and closed his eyes, slipping easily into a deep slumber.