Hello readers! So this is a new story I am going to be working on. I plan on updating it weekly. I really appreciate any reviews you can give. I hope you enjoy reading Being Potter!

-Lucy Kent


Laying in the safety of his bed, Harry tried to relax. There was no doubt. Someone was trying to kill him, why else would his name be in the Goblet? And if someone was trying to kill him... what about Freya. Harry rubbed his hands on his face to try and rub the stress off. Freya would be fine. Hermione and Ron would make sure she would be fine. Besides, she wasn't real. Just a dream. Harry flipped over and put his face in his pillow.

No one knew about Freya. But Harry had known her his whole life. For as long as he could remember, when he fell asleep he would dream about the black haired girl. When Harry had been young, before ever learning about Hogwarts and magic, she had been his escape. A wordless companion.

Every night he dreamed of his life, if he were born a girl.

But life hadn't changed that much between them. She slept under the stairs like he did. Cooked and cleaned for the Dursleys. But Dudley didn't beat her the way he beat Harry. No, it was worse. He would pull her hair, trip her, and when he was really angry he would hit her in places that no one could see the bruises. Because even when Dudley was little, he knew that hitting a girl was a bad thing.

The night that Harry set the snake on Dudley, and had been locked in his cupboard; Harry had dreaded seeing what Freya would have to go through. He had tried not to sleep. Tried to stay awake. But eventually sleep took over. That's when he found out that Freya was smarter than him. The moment she saw the glass disappear she darted away. She then tried acting as though nothing had happened, that she had seen nothing. But Dudley pointed at her, "It was Freya!" and Uncle Vernon turned a face purple with rage toward her. But he was conscious of those around him. "Come girl." When they got back home, Aunt Petunia turned away, and Uncle Vernon stormed toward her pushing her toward the cupboard. That was the first time Uncle Vernon hit Freya. He slapped her across the face so hard, that she stumbled and fell right into her cupboard.

On his eleventh birthday, Harry stayed awake. Not only waiting for the moment of his birthday, but also trying not to see Freya. The past few days had been crazy for Harry, but worse for Freya. Uncle Vernon hadn't stopped hitting her for the little things since that day. And Dudley had gotten more violent as well. Aunt Petunia didn't even look at her anymore. As thought it was Freya's fault

But Harry had been distracted from his thoughts when he had noticed it was so close to midnight, and a bang echoed on the cabin door.


Harry had been so exhausted after the day he had had, that he fell asleep without thought. When he saw Freya get woken up by Uncle Vernon screaming at her, Harry wished desperately that there was something he could do besides watch. But there was nothing, he couldn't even leave the dream as he watched Freya get hit within an inch of her life by the two male Dursleys after arriving at the cabin. Finally they had all fallen asleep, and Freya crawled into a corner slowly, trying not to jostle her left ankle, which Harry noticed was at a wrong angle. She crawled in a ball as small as she could and began to mutter to herself. Harry was able to pick out the words. "I'll be ok, I'll be ok, I'll be ok." And Harry watched in fascination as her wounds began to close, and there was a pop, and the ankle looked ok again. It was then that Harry sighed. Then he realized, if she had Magic, he supposed it wasn't too much of a stretch to believe that Harry did too. But then there was a bang, and Harry was happy to see Hagrid was coming to get her, much as he had come to get Harry.


Harry's first year passed almost too fast. And at night he was happy to see that Freya became friends with Ron and Hermione, and battle with Malfoy. She was happy, and Harry was happier just with the thought. The two of them learned the same magic, and Harry was a little upset to find she was better at spells then he was. But then she had cried to herself one night, though Harry didn't know the exact cause, and Harry remembered, that she deserved to be better at magic, because she had a harder life than he did.

When Harry woke up, finding himself in the Hospital Wing after fighting Quirrell, he felt as though he could have done better, though he didn't tell that to Dumbledore. He had seen Freya come up with the same conclusions, and get to the same point. He had seen her receive the stone, and attack Quirrel the same way he had. But he had also seen her hesitate when the angry man had flown at her, and there was no doubt that Freya was seeing Uncle Vernon in him. But this added to her attack, and she stayed awake to see Voldemort flee, before she had hunched in a corner, the stone tight in her grasp, and fall into a weary sleep. So when he woke his first thought was whether or not he had actually defeated Voldemort, like she had.

During the Summer, while Harry's family was afraid of him, Freya's stayed the same, vicious and cruel. But each night she would crawl into a ball and repeat the mantra "I'll be ok, I'll be ok." and her wounds would close and the bruises would heal. This always made the Dursleys more angry the next morning, but they couldn't stop her, and she couldn't stop them. Harry was curious why she didn't' get in trouble for using magic. He wondered if it had something to do with the fact that she wasn't using her wand.

The end of the summer came quickly for both of them. But on the night when Ron had rescued him, Harry fell asleep pleased that Freya would be saved as well. But Ron never appeared for her. Harry kept the distress from his face, not daring to explain that he was upset over a dream, but he let his tears fall free during the dreams to watch her stay with the Dursley's locked in the room, escaping the beatings, but hardly surviving. But the end of August came, and while Harry was taken care of, he watched as she packed her luggage, and then picked the lock with a hair pin. She took Hedwig and her luggage down, and Harry was relieved to see her family gone, which must have been part of her plan. She then walked out of the neighborhood, releasing Hedwig on the way, and found a taxi. She gave an address to the man, who eyed her cage and her age warily, but didn't ask anything. Once they arrived, she paid the man with money that she had been saving up the summer before, just like Harry. At first Harry was confused, but then she knocked on the door of the house. A man stood there and Freya smiled at him. "Is Hermione home?" It was then that Harry realized where she had ended up and he woke with a sigh of relief.


Their second year was very similar. But Harry thought that was unavoidable as she was for the most part, living the same life. Harry was impressed that Freya was able to navigate around Lockhart much in the same way he did, with disgust and caution. Harry's days were tough once the school stopped talking to him, and once again Freya became a welcome escape. But Harry was still sad to see her lose everyone as well.

Harry was fascinated when the diary took just as much importance in her life as it had in his. It was just a diary. There had always been little things different, but Harry felt a growing suspicion when someone stole it from her room as well. The man in the diary had shown her the same thing that he had shown Harry, and Harry was happy to see that she also didn't believe that Hagrid had anything to do with it.

They had both finally defeated the diary, and killed the snake. But where Harry had stabbed it through the head, Freya had shouted "cut through!" before jumping from the statue and cutting the head off entirely. But had broken her leg in the fall. Fawkes cried and healed her leg, much as he had healed Harry's arm, and Freya had taken a weak Ginny away and back to the school.


For Harry his day involved, blowing up Aunt Marge, getting expelled, seeing a big black dog, almost getting run over, riding the most interesting bus, getting excused for his crimes, and finally falling into bed at the Leaky Cauldron. Finally he curled into bed, and prepared for another adventurous day in Freya's world. But he was unprepared.

"Petunia, could you go and pick up Marge from town? Her car broke down." Uncle Vernon asked, right as Freya woke up.

"Of course dear. I'll be back." There was a smooching sound. Footsteps. Keys jangling. A door opening and closing. A car turning on. Than a car fading away.

"Girl. Get out here." Harry watched Freya gulp, then come out of the cupboard she had been moved back into. In the hallway stood Uncle Vernon and Dudley. Harry shivered at the sneers on their faces. Something was different. "We decided to give you back your bedroom. So take your stuff up there now."

"Yes Uncle Vernon." Freya said, and turned back into the cupboard. But Harry was able to watch Uncle Vernon's face. And he immediately wanted to intercede. He tried yelling, but got no response. He watched in dread as the two of them followed her upstairs, and Harry saw Freya eyeing them suspiciously. He yelled that she needed to get away. But she didn't hear him.

She walked into the bedroom, but turned when the other two entered as well and Uncle Vernon locked the door. "What are you..." But Dudley tackled her, and trapped her beneath his body. "Let go!" Uncle Vernon put a hand over her mouth. Than he looked at his son.

"Go on. She deserves it." Harry screamed as she she tried to squirm free, as Dudley's disgusting fingers crawled over her, and pulled her top open revealing her chest, and she screamed as his slimy lips closed on top of one of the tips. Dudley let go, leaving dark bruises and moved to her pants. She squirmed, but the two men held her down. Uncle Vernon let go of her mouth and moved so both of his hands could squeeze her chest, and Harry knew that she felt only pain. But her mouth was free so she screamed. "LET GO! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO!" With the final "let go" there was a flash of light, and both male Dursleys lay on the floor unconscious. Freya quickly redressed herself, using the back of her hand to wipe her tears away, packed her trunk and once more headed down the stairs.

At the bottom she was greeted with the door opening, Aunt Petunia, Aunt Marge and the dog coming in. The two women took in Freya's state but before they could utter a word, an owl that Harry recognized swept into the room and gave the same letter, expelling her from school. Marge had fainted a few words in, and Aunt Petunia had grown pale. "What did you do?"

Freya's eyes narrowed. "It's not what I did. It's what they tried to do." With that she lifted her wand levitated her trunk and left the room. She saw a dog, and the rest of her evening was much the same as Harry's. But when she sat in bed, she crawled into a ball and began to mutter as always. "I'll be ok." But there was nothing to heal but the bruises that Harry couldn't see, and the memory.


Freya's third year, happened almost exactly as Harry's. This made Harry extremely happy, because she looked happy. She became good friends with Ginny, Ron and and Hermione both kept her happy, and even Draco seemed to give her relief as she was able to predict what he would do next.

But the year ended. Harry dreaded it more then anything. Because of Freya. Harry's was pretty uneventful, at least until the Weasley's picked him up. And Harry was happy to see that Freya was left alone, for the most part. Harry could see that a lot of it had to do with Aunt Petunia. Whenever either man looked at Freya too long she would glare at them. And Harry was grateful for Freya's Aunt Petunia, even if his own was not as kind. And when Harry fell asleep in the Burrow, he almost cried when Ron appeared in her world as well.

They both successfully made it through the Death Eater attack, and made it back to Hogwarts. Harry was a bit put out to see that Freya had warmed up to Cedric, a bit more then he would like for a female version of himself. He couldn't understand where that had come from.

Later, as Harry went to bed, after being named Champion and losing the trust of Ron, and probably most of the school, he wondered; would Freya have the same thing happen?

He wasn't really surprised when she was also named Champion.

A few days before the first task, Freya's Hermione did something that Harry's Hermione didn't. She gave her a blank book. "Freya, I don't know what it is, but something has been bothering you lately. Why don't you write about it in here. Whatever it is, I am sure that it will help you. And I promise, no scary souls stored in here." Freya cracked a smile at her Hermione and the two hugged.

When Harry woke up, he realized that keeping a journal, because no man wrote in a diary, about everything would help him out tremendously. So he went to the library, not knowing where else to look. Than suddenly there was a 'pop' and Dobby was there.

"Hello Dobby."

"Hello Mister Harry Potter Sir."

There was a moment's silence before... "yes Dobby?"

"Well Dobby was wondering... if it wouldn't trouble you to much... but Dobby was thinking..."

"Yes?"

"Here." Dobby held out a recognizable notebook, the one that was currently Freya's Diary.

"Thanks Dobby, where did you get this?"

"Well Miss Hermione Granger had it, but than she gave it to Dobby because she said she didn't want it anymore and I could do what I wanted with it. But I don't know how to write sir. But I thought that Mister Harry Potter had given Dobby a sock, maybe Mister Harry Potter would like a book to write in." There was a moment's pause. "Dobby has done bad..." Dobby lowered the book and Harry jumped forward.

"No Dobby, you did very good. I was thinking about getting one of these today anyway."

Dobby looked up. "Really Mister Harry Potter sir?"

"Really. Thank you Dobby."

Dobby's eyes overflowed. "Mister Harry Potter is too good sir!"

"Shhhhhh!" Harry glanced around and was greatful to not see an angry Madam Pince turning the corner. Dobby had his hands over his mouth, bobbed his head in Harry's direction a few times before disappearing.

Harry eyed the cover. It was a deep red leather, with a small latch, to lock it. Harry wondered why Hermione would ever throw it away. But he now knew how the journal had gotten into his dream. They did say that once you see something you can always dream about it. Maybe he had always wanted to write.

But Harry didn't. He forgot about it, in preparation for the first task. When he finished, and was back in bed. He fell asleep gratefully.


As Freya sat in the tent, waiting for her name to be called, she pulled out her red leather diary. Harry watched as she opened up to the first page. She pulled out a quill, set out ink and began to write. Curious as to what she was saying, he looked over her shoulder.

She started by writing as though it was a letter to the book. She explained how it had gotten into her hands. She wrote more about herself, including the fact that she was about 2 inches shorter than Harry was, though he had never noticed. She depicted herself as an athletic build, with full black slightly curly hair, green eyes, wearing a school uniform and glasses. She used a lot of pretty flowery language, but Harry was impressed, that the image she presented was herself. She didn't embellish or leave anything out.

But then she started the next part. And as she wrote, Harry stopped breathing. "You know for as long as I can remember. I've had these dreams. Everynight I go to sleep and re-live my day. But I re-live it as a boy named Harry. I see how my life would be different if I was a boy. Sometimes I think he has it easier than me. But sometimes... It's amazing to think that these dreams are so detailed and have been happening for so much of my life. I don't know what I would do without them. But they are only dreams." There was a cannon, and Freya quickly closed the book, and put it with her stuff and went to battle the dragon.

When Harry woke up, he lay there thinking. It couldn't be possible. That was all just part of his dream. A reflection of what he was living. He was dreaming of her, so why shouldn't she be dreaming of him. But a doubt swam in his mind. If he was distracted that day, no one really bothered to ask him why. And that evening, as he sat in the common room. He pulled out his red leather journal. He was so distracted he didn't notice Hermione come up behind him.

"Harry where did you get that?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Hermione you just scared me half to death."

"Sorry Harry, but..." She gestured to the book.

"Dobby gave it to me. He said you had given it to him, but he couldn't' write."

Hermione's face fell. "Why didn't I think of that? But... what are you doing Harry?"

Harry thought quickly. "I thought I could work on some... problems I am having. Using the journal. You don't mind do you?" Harry asked suddenly worried she would want it back.

Hermione eyed him for a moment. "No... no I don't mind. Ok. Good night Harry." She smiled at him and walked to her dormitory glancing back for a moment at that stairs and Harry smiled at her. She smiled back and went up the stairs. and Harry was left alone with the journal.

He thought about it for a moment, before choosing his words with care. "Freya. Are you real? Or are you just a dream I am having?" Harry put the quill down and put his face in his hands. "This is silly." He growled to himself before closing the book, and marching upstairs.

That night he watched Freya, looking for a reaction. When he didn't see one, he woke up slightly disappointed. He stowed the journal away, and went to class. When he finally crawled into bed, he took a deep breath before sleeping.

The first words out of Freya's mouth were, "Harry..." She breathed them, as though they were an impossible dream. She then whipped the journal out from her pillow. She opened to a new page. "Harry. It is not possible that you are real. But what if you are? What does that make you? Or me?" She looked up, as though she could see Harry standing right there. But her eyes didn't catch him. But she said it again. "Harry." She gulped. "If you are dreaming, the same way I am dreaming. You must be right here. I am saying this aloud, because than this isn't some prank." Her eyes filled up. "Are you real? Harry?"