AN: Sorry for the really long wait. Comment responses at the end. Enjoy!


Chapter 7

While Harry had endeavored to find the kitchens and cooking staff to ask about vegetarian options as soon as she could, the adults in the castle were less than helpful, either scoffing at the idea that Hogwarts' meals were anything other than perfect, or viewing Harry's inquiries as veiled attempts to find the kitchens for some nefarious purpose. Regardless, once classes began Harry found her free time filled with homework and revising.

Despite the work load, Harry found most of her classes quite interesting. Professor Sprout's easy-going demeanor and helpful lectures interwoven into the practical lessons even managed to make Harry find gardening less of a chore. And though Flitwick annoyed her by making a big deal about "Harry Potter, dear me!" as he fell off his stack of books, She found his lessons were very informative and laced with tantalizing hints at where to look for more information. She was rapidly developing carpal tunnel from all the notes she was taking. Even Hermione was a little nonplussed by the density of Harry's Charms notes.

Sadly, her enthusiasm waned in regards to two of the classes she was most excited for. History of Magic was taught by a ghost so boring that everyone, even Hermione had trouble staying awake. And the less said about Quirrel and his fake-sounding stutter, the better. The brightest spot of Harry's week by far, though, was her first Transfiguration lesson.

Harry set out for class early, spending the extra time familiarizing herself with the layout of the castle and the route to the transfiguration classroom. When Harry finally made her way there, there were a few students already there, including Hermione, but most had not arrived yet. She took a seat in the front row beside her friend.

"The professor's not here yet?" Harry asked as she took her seat.

"Nope, just her cat, it seems," Hermione replied. Harry looked to the beautiful tabby with strange glasses-like markings on it's face.

Harry smiled and after a moment, she stood and walked up to the desk where the cat sat rigidly, seeming to be watching the class. Harry was unable to resist giving the cat several long strokes. It gave her an almost accusatory and startled look before it started purring. When she tried to scoop up the happy cat and carry it back to her desk though, the creature perked right up and jumped out of her arms and back to its rigid and oddly unfeline posture on McGonagall's desk. Harry sighed and went back to her seat.

"That cat's not natural," Harry grumbled. Hermione poorly stifled her laughter. "I'm serious, normal cats love me!" At that most of the class broke out in laughter. Harry just sulked with her head on her desk, grumbling as Hermione patted her back.

A few minutes later, well past when class should have started, Ronald came barreling into the classroom, half a turkey sandwich in his mouth, hair an unwashed mess and pajamas on under his Gryffindor cloak.

"Thank Merlin," The irksome ginger sighed with relief. "She's not here yet." He tromped up to the front and stood behind Hermione's chair giving her a look that might be intimidating from literally anyone else. She looked down and started gathering her things to move when the cat on the professor's desk jumped to the floor and grew into the far more imposing form of Minerva McGonagall. She did not look happy at all.

"Mister Weasley," McGonagall began coldly. "I do not even know where to begin. Every other student in this class was capable of getting themselves dressed, eating breakfast and making it here, on time."

Ronald gulped and opened his mouth to speak. Forgetting his sandwich, which dropped to the floor.

"Do not give me excuses, go and take a seat in the back." McGonagall glared at the contrite readhead as he slinked to an empty seat in the back of the room. "Five points from Gryffindor." Once Ronald was seated and sulking in the back, McGonagall cleared her throat before she began her lecture.

Harry took diligent notes as McGonagall outlined safety procedures and basics for transfiguration. The lecture was long, but densely laden with information and helpful pointers. Harry smiled when she noticed Hermione scribbling notes even more furiously than she was and wondered if the girl wasn't trying to copy down the entire speech.

Before moving on to the lesson, McGonagall decided to give a practical demonstration of what more advanced transfiguration could do by transforming her desk, papers, baubles and all, into a living, breathing, snorting pig. Harry was astonished. Could transfiguration create life? Had the professor just given birth, in a sense, to a pig?

Then, before Harry had a chance to fully absorb what she'd just witnessed, Professor McGonagall threw her another curveball by transfiguring the pig back into her desk, not a bauble or paper was out of place. So was it never alive? Just a desk pretending to be a pig or had Harry just witnessed her Professor give birth to new life only to immediately snuff it out like it was nothing. McGonagall didn't seem like the type to be so calous. But who knew, wizards and witches all seemed a little bit crazy.

"Now, that was just a demonstration of what is possible with transfiguration. Today, we'll be starting with a much simpler transfiguration of matches to needles," Professor McGonagall stated as she began walking around the tables, handing out a match to each student. "Remember, try to visualize the transformation from start to finish as clearly as possible."

McGonagall demonstrated the wand motion one more time before she left the students to attempt the transfiguration on their own. Hermione spent a few seconds screwing up her face in thought before she made her first attempt. Harry decided to think the whole thing through before she tried.

She imagined the match shifting form in a thousand different ways ending up on all sorts of needles, giggling to herself and earning disgruntled glances from Hermione when she imagined something specific. She settled on a particularly enjoyable transformation where the match lit itself and burned away, leaving behind a glimering needle and a pile of ash. Harry was practically holding her breath as she imagined the flashy transformation over and over in her mind, waving her wand in the prescribed pattern.

Nothing happened. She didn't feel anything. There were no sparks. The match simply sat on the desk, unchanged. Suddenly, unbidden, came the uncomfortable thought that she was like the match: trapped in a form she hated, never to escape. She started to panic as she went down a spiral, thoughts of being ridiculed as a poof and all manner of other things filled her mind as she failed to steady her breathing.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, breaking her out of her panic. She still felt a sinking despair deep in her guts, but by focusing on Hermione's concerned frown kept her functional.

"Yeah, sorry," Harry replied, trying her best to sound casual. "I just can't figure out this transfiguration business." Hermione frowned and returned to reading over the text book and her notes.

"Yes, it's proving far more difficult than I expected, as well," Hermione began. "And this text is useless, going on and on about clearly picturing this and embodying that. I just do not know what this author is thinking!"

Harry's mind hooked onto the bit about embodying and wondered. She focused once more on the match, looking directly at it and letting everything else fade into background noise. She forced herself to think of it as a needle rather than a match. Eyes could deceive, even physical form could deceive. Just like how Harry herself knew in her bones she was a girl, despite what all her senses and society told her, this little piece of wood, deep down, was actually a needle. She thought it over and over until she couldn't think of the thing on the table as anything other than a needle, then she thought of all that she had read about transitioning and all the books and articles she had studied about sewing and fashion.

As if in a trance, Harry began waving her wand. Her mind imagined a simple, slow transformation, the needle gradually becoming sharper and shinier. When she finished the motion, she felt her power like a warm breeze inside her body and before her on the desk was a shimmering needle. Harry beamed at her accomplishment.

She looked over to see Hermione had partially succeeded as well. Her match looked more glossy than truly metallic, but the end was clearly pointed. She looked over at Harry's perfect needle and frowned, redoubling her efforts. Harry tried to offer guidance on how she had figured it out, but Hermione refused, wanting to figure things out on her own.

By the end of class, Hermione was panting and sweating from exertion, but she had also completed the transfiguration. She smiled smugly at Harry showing it to her. Harry merely smiled in return.

"Very good, Mister Potter, Miss Granger," Mcgonagall stated as the class was coming to a close. "Two points each to Gryffindor. Everyone else, take your matches with you and try to complete the transfiguration before our next lesson."

The class collectively groaned as they were given their homework and dismissed. Harry turned to Hermione and smiled slyly rolling her eyes at their less than studious classmates. Hermione giggled and they both walked off to the library to spend their free time before dinner. Hermione seemed to be reading ahead, devouring text after text, while Harry spent the time finishing up her homework before researching side topics.

She was a little disgruntled to discover nothing in the main section of the library about permanently transfiguring or otherwise modfying the body, especially when a book of nothing but different recipes for Cherry Tart by a wizard calling himself "Nick the Nitwit" and another by a Barnabas Bode simply titled "A Complete and Illustrated History of Troll Ballet."

Frustrated, Harry returned to her table with Hermione and decided to brush up on potion ingredients and effects. She was glad she did too. She quickly realized it was potions and not transfiguration that might actually hold the answers to her problem. At least a few rare potions and ingredients had permanent physical effects. While no authors seemed particularly interested in magical sex change or hormone replacement therapies, Harry could see the potential to design her own. With the hep of the potions professor it might even be possible in a year or two. Harry couldn't keep a smile off her face after that, as she continued to devour page after page of potions, even when dinner-time came around and Hermione was guiding her into the great hall.

Harry kept reading in bed that night too, falling asleep with potion ingredients and their complex and partially symbolic properties and interactions recombining in increasingly distorted and abstract dreams about them.

Harry awoke at her normal time on Friday, a mess. She was glad she tended to get up so early as it gave her time to shower and change before leaving for breakfast. This time, there was a surprise waiting for her in the common room. Hermione sat reading her own potions book.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," Harry half mumbled as she walked up to Hermione. The girl merely waved a hand dismissively as she marked her place in her book before closing and stowing it.

"It's no trouble," Hermione replied quickly. "I wanted to walk down to breakfast together, this castle is terribly large and lonely by oneself."

"Well let's go then!" Harry replied, giggling internally at Hermione's flustered face as she grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out of the common room at a run. They ran through the halls, reaching the great hall with red faces and silly grins.

The great hall was nearly empty, but for a few older students who were studying feverishly. Harry guessed they must be the wizard equivalent to A level and O level students. She merely shrugged and quickly sat at the Gryffindor table and portioned out a moderate breakfast. Frowning once again at the lack of vegetarian options.

"Remind me," Harry mentioned off-handedly as she spread some marmalade over a piece of toast. "We need to go looking for the kitchen staff with Parvati as soon as possible, all this grease and meat is really limiting my options and the professors are obviously going to be no help." Hermione frowned at a pile of bacon she had on her own plate and began to set it aside.

"Oh, sorry," Harry interjected. "You can eat meat around me, don't feel bad." Harry smiled sheepishly. Hermione grinned back and didn't need to be told twice. Harry stiffled a laugh at her gusto and frowned at her own toast before taking a bite.

Once Harry felt full enough, she pulled out one of her potions books and was instantly absorbed, this time on the history of potioneering and the process by which new potions were discovered by various potioneers of the past. They each had a whimsical and chaotic process all their own, and until very recently no one seemed very interested in the underlying principles of potions.

"Harry!" Harry almost jumped out of her skin at Hermione's voice. "Sorry, I've been trying to get your attention for ages, there's a letter for you." Hermione pointed to a letter with a nearly unreadable "Harry Potter" scrawled across the front of it, as she picked it up, Harry also noticed that the great hall had filled with students while she hadn't been looking.

"Wow, guess I was really out of it," Harry said scratching the back of her head . "Sorry about that." She quickly broke the wax seal on the letter and unfolded it. As it turned out, it was from Hagrid.

Dear Harry

I hope you're enjoying your first week at Hogwarts. I know you have afternoons off on Fridays, so if you have the time, why not come by for tea after your classes? Send me a reply with Monica.

Hagrid

Harry smiled happily and pulled out her her writing materials, quickly eriting up a response.

"Hermione," Harry said, turning her smile to her other friend. "Want to have tea with Hagrid after class? He's really nice and you didn't get much chance to meet on the first night." Hermione looked a little dubious about the whole thing but shrugged and nodded.

"I don't see why not, we can always do our homework and reading over the weekend." Hermione nodded to herself, as if that was what truly settled the matter. She quickly added that Hermione would join her as well, failing to stifle her giggles. Hermione frowned. "What?"

"Nothing, Hermione," Harry replied, getting her breathing back under control and sealing up her letter. "You're just the only person I know whose quite as enthusiastic about schoolwork." Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes as they both gathered their belongings and made their way to their first class. They stopped by the owlry so Harry could send her letter. After that, things went pretty much as Harry had learned to expect. It wasn't until her final and most anticipated class of the day that they took an unpleasant turn.

"I'm so excited, Hermione," Harry said. "Potions is a wonderful subject. And our professor is actually in one of the books, he's a revolutionary potioneer, he invented the Wolfsbane Potion and revolutionized the medical care of werewolves around the world." Hermione looked a little uncomfortable.

"Are you sure that's a good thing?" Hermione asked. "Aren't werewolves dark creatures?" Harry just shook her head exasperated.

"That's prejudice. Transformed they're dangerous, sure, and whatever enchanted microbe carries the disease is almost certainly dark magic, but the person underneath is an ordinary witch or wizard who most likely hates the disease even more than the societies that discriminate against them. Unprecidented numbers of werewolves have opened up about their struggles and sought treatment thanks to Professor Snape's potion. And he's only 31!"

"Wow," Hermione replied, her own eyes starting to sparkle with excitement. "No wonder they say Hogwarts gives the best magical education in the world, with a professor that accomplished."

The two quieted down as they reached the classroom. The door was apparently locked as the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years were arrayed in front of it in two seperate groups. After a few minutes the last students had made their way to the classroom, but it remained cosed and locked. Ronald arrived last of all, properly dressed this time, but still huffing and red-cheeked as if he had run there. Shortly after that, the door swung inward as the students were wordlessly ushered into the classroom by the dour and sallow visage of Severus Snape. He wore a black cloak with a billowing cape and had deep lines around his mouth, seemingly from perpetually frowning, a large hooked nose and long, greasy, black hair.

Once the students had seated themselves, two to a desk, Harry with Hermione, the professor swooped past them to the front of the class and swiftly began to take roll. Like many of the other professors, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Harry Potter," Professor Snape said in a level tone, lips upturned in a sarcastic sneer. "Our new celebrity." Harry blushed and sank into her seat as the Slytherins snickered and Professor Snape moved on. At least he seems to think nothing of the fame, Harry thought. I just have to prove myself to him. It's better this way.

The Professor finished the roll call and paced for a few moments in front of the silent class, attention focussed on him, before clearing his throat and beginning to speak in a silky monotone.

"You are here to study the subtle science and exact art that is potionmaking," He began, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Harry did her best Hermione impression, furiously copying down the speech word for word, expecting great hidden wisdom from the words of a man as accomplished as Severus Snape. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will scarcely believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death – if, that is, you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Harry licked her lips as she finished writing out the brilliant little intro and returned her focus to the professor, ignoring the quiet laughter of the Slytherins and the nonplussed looks exchanged between many of the Gryffindors.

"Potter," He said suddenly, causing her to jump slightly despite herself. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Harry blinked, all the countless potion recipes and ingredient interactions flashing before her mind's eye as she tried to absorb the question.

"I, er—" Harry began, but was cut off before she could gather her wits to reply. She vaguely registered that Hermione had her hand in the air, answer at the ready as Professor Snape moved on just as quickly as he had begun.

"It seems fame clearly isn't everything," Snape said with a sneer. "Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Well, I know there's one in our potion kits, sir, but—" Harry began, only to be cut off again.

"One point from Gryffindor, Mister Potter," Snape said, almost triumphantly. "For your cheek." Harry winced, as if struck by the masculine label, but it faded quickly in lieu of the anger she felt bubbling up in her gut, he wasn't even giving her a chance! Once again, he ignored Hermione's hand raising itself practically out of its socket.

"One last chance, Potter," Snape began again. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Harry hung her head, fists clenched as she tried to hold back the bitter tears threatening to stream from her eyes. She wanted to know so badly, to impress this true prodigy of potioncraft, but she had no idea what either ingredient was. This isn't fair!

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered, her voice quiet and quavering, her teeth clenched. She expected Snape to get in one last jab, but it seemed he was cut off for a change as Hermione's voice cut through the air like a hot knife.

"They're the same plant sir, also called Aconite, though properly the names can refer to one of two hundred fifty species of plants in the genus Aconitum, They all share mostly the same properties when used in potions." Harry looked up, to see Snape staring at Hermione who was now standing and babbling defiantly. She could only smile as her friend took a deep breath and continued.

"Adding powdered asfodel root to a wormwood infusion, depending on the concentration of each ingredient and the additional processes and ingredients involved can form any number of poisons and sleeping potions, but is most well known as the first step in preparation of the Draught of Living Death, a potion that induces a state of suspended animation until the antidote is administered."

"And finally, bezoars are formed in the stomachs of mammals when undigested material, usually hair and rocks, clump together and form a smooth stone. In potioneering only goat bezoars are relevant because of their symbolic association with extreme poison tolerance, thus a goat bezoar when added to a potion or swallowed after ingesting a potion will counteract the potion's poisonousness unless it is too extreme or derived from one of the five bezoar-resistant toxins." Hermione finished, sitting down, still frowning with her arms crossed and face red.

No one said anything for a moment until Snape's face returned to its now characteristic sneer. "Miss Granger is correct, if overly thorough on all counts," He said. "However, three points will be taken from Gryffindor for her speaking out of turn." After that, Snape waved his wand and instructions for a potion to cure boils appeared on the chalk board.

"You have until the end of class to complete the potion," Snape stated drily. "Each pair will receive the same grade based on what you do or do not turn in by that time. Begin." The students rushed to set up their cauldrons. As Hermione began to frantically weigh dried nettles with one hand and crush snake fangs with the other, Harry stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"Breathe Hermione," Harry staed, trying to calm herself as well. "You've already got the cauldron set up, you watch it and make sure it's perfect while I prepare all the ingredients, it'll be faster and less stressful if everything's ready to go in the pot beforehand." And with another breath in and out Harry began measuring out ingredients from her potions kit. Measure out the proper amount of nettles, chop, set aside. Crush five snake fangs… Harry decided to use a pestle and mortar rather than her knife to crush the fangs, it was faster and crushed them into a finer powder that would dissolve more easily. She set aside the horned slugs that would be stewed whole and the porcupine quills while scribbling out a note to herself to take the cauldron off the fire before adding them, and on and on. For a simple potion, there sure were a lot of ingredients and steps. She wondered if Snape was having them do a more complicated variation of the potion just to make it harder and more time-consuming.

"Tick tock, Potter, Granger," Snape needled as he walked by. Harry just did her best to ignore him as she finished the last of her preparations. "Alright, Hermione, everything's ready, let's do this." Hermione nodded as she looked over the instructions again and added the chopped nettles, beginning to stir.

Just as Hermione removed their cauldron from the fire, slugs properly stewed, potion ready for porcupine quills, Snape interrupted the entire class to point out Draco Malfoy's own slug-stewing technique. Harry smiled, knowing her evenly chopped nettles and finely pulverized snake fangs had significantly sped up the reactions that formed the potion. She was less pleased when Ronald and another boy's cauldron began to emit a plume of green smoke.

Before Harry had a chance to warn the students nearby, who were moving away on their own due to the cloud, the cauldron bottom melted, spewing green sludge all over Ronald's partner, causing huge painful-looking boils to spring up all over his body.

"Weasley," Snape snapped, quickly vanishing the toxic plume, melted cauldron and corrosive sludge. "Thought you'd make yourself look better by letting Longbottom add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron from the fire, did you?" Ronald squeaked, unable to answer, and Longbottom merely whimpered as huge boils began breaking out all over his skin. "You both receive zero points for the assignment and two points each from Gryffindor for such dangerously recklous handling of potion ingredients. Let this be a lesson to everyone. Make sure to read and follow instructions thoroughly." Snape glanced directly at Harry as he said this before turning back to the two boys. "Take Longbottom to hospital wing, Weasley, it's not as if you can do anything more here."

Harry shook her head as she turned back to their potion. Hermione, it turned out, had not paused in brewing while Harry was distracted by the Longbottom incident. It was now on the fire again, simmering and slowly shifting to the proper color and consistency under Hermione's watchful eye.

Somehow, Draco managed to finish his potion first, Harry had no illusions Goyle contributed much to the process, He must have had some actual skill, or knowledge of faster brewing techniques. Harry vowed to learn everything she could and beat him in their next class. Harry and Hermione still finished quickly compared to most, despite the extra time spent preparing ingredients. Snape silently looked into the vial, inspecting the potion's color and shook it around for its texture. Then he cast a spell on a toad, causing it to croak in alarm as it sprouted boils, before dripping a single drop of Harry and Hermione's potion onto it. The toad calmed down immediately as every boil vanished.

"The color and texture are slightly off, and you modified the procedure, which was not the purpose of the assignment, however, the potion is quite effective," Snape rattleled off dispassionately. "You pass, fourteen out of twenty. You both may go after cleaning up your station, be sure to wash your cauldron thoroughly and without magic before our next class. No homework aside from catching up on your reading."

Harry managed to hold in her rage at Snape's one last dig all the way until she and Hermione had reached the entrance hall and escaped the cold and gloomy atmosphere of the dungeons.

"Can you believe him?" Harry asked, venting all her frustration in a single disgruntled growl. "Not only expecting I'd memorized all the random trivia but never even giving me a chance to attempt an answer, all while ignoring you knew it the whole bloody time!" Hermione squeaked.

"Harry, language!" Hermione reproved. Harry responded with an raised eyebrow before she continued.

"Then he had the gall to remove points from you after giving a correct answer! I just wanna..." Harry trailed off, stairing daggers at her hands wrapped around an invisible throat before she sighed deeply and let them drop.

"To be fair, I did speak out of turn," Hermione added unhelpfully as they exited the front doors of Hogwarts onto the grounds lit by the afternoon sun, shrouded, of course, by the nearly ever-present clouds of the scottish highlands. "I just couldn't take how sad and frustrated you looked anymore. I'd rather not speak ill of one of the professors, but he was acting like a bully!"

Harry smiled at her friend and felt the urge to give her a hug. She had never really felt that way before, but she let the moment pass with only a reassuring smile instead, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of a hug just yet. They walked up to the cottage on the edge of the Forbidden Forest that the curmudgeonly groundskeeper had indicated as Hagrid's home and Harry knocked on the door. Immediately they were greeted by loud barking and Hagrid's booming voice.

"Just a moment," the huge man said. "Back Fang, heel. Heel you bloody mutt!" Hermione shrunk back nervously, but Harry only grew more enthusiastic. She had gotten to know the neighborhood dogs as well as aunt Marge's little monsters and she had learned to tell the difference between the bark of a dog excited to play and prepared to chase you off its territory. Fang sounded positively giddy to meet her and Hermione and that made Harry just as excited.

As Hagrid opened the door just a crack, still struggling, suddenly it was flung wide open as an enormous black boarhound came streaking out directly at Harry. Hermione shrieked and jumped back, but Harry just opened up her arms and accepted being bowled over and having her face licked, giggling as she scratched the happy dog under his chin and behind his ears, giggling. Hermione sighed and shrugged.

Eventually Harry got Fang off of her and rolled him on his back to give him a belly rub.

"You're good boy," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's facepalm and Hagrid's deep belly laugh. "Yes you are."

"Well, you can come on in any time," Hagrid said beaming. Harry smiled back as she stood, dusting off her pants and wiping slober off her face. Fang laid on the ground staring in confusion as Harry and Hermione went inside Hagrid's hut before he got up and quickly followed, Hagrid closing the door after him.

Inside the hut was a single room. Dead animals, presumably for food, hung over the window and the fireplace where a copper kettle sat boiling over an open flame. In the corner was an appropriately huge bed covered in a patchwork quilt.

"Make yourselves at home," Hagrid stated as he turned around and removed the shrieking kettle from the fire. Fang bounded over to Harry and laid his head in her lap with a little half-whimper that made Harry smile and start petting the dog as he sat and calmly accepted the affection.

"This is my friend Hermione," Harry said. "you met briefly on the first night of term." Hermione inclined her head politely as Hagrid poured hot water into a large teapot then poured tea into two chipped teacups and what looked like a cross between a beer stein and an industrial-sized soup can. He then set out a plate of biscuits of some kind, gray lumps dotted with raisins.

"Yes, I recall," Hagrid said, smiling. "I'm already hearing the professors nattering on 'bout you. Smart as a whip they say." Hagrid gestured to the dubious biscuits before adding: "Rock cake?"

The rock cakes turned out to be more rock than cake as Harry and Hermione politely accepted the offer only to almost break their teeth on the shapeless things. Harry took a sip of the tea which was actually quite good, to clear her palate and counteract the dryness left by the cake.

"That reminds me, Hagrid," Harry began. "Do you know where the kitchens or the kitchen staff's quarters are? I wanted to talk to them about the menu here."

Hagrid merely chuckled and shook his head. "You'll have to figure that one out on your own, staff aren't supposed to tell the students where the kitchens are: to keep them from sneaking treats and whatnot. But it's a sort of tradition at Hogwarts to go looking for 'em, so they won't stop you once you find 'em for yourself." Harry crossed her arms and harrumphed, causing both Hermione and Hagrid to chuckle.

"How are your classes and everything, settling in to Hogwarts alright?" Hagrid asked. Harry sighed and went into a long description of how her first week had been, leaving out how uncomfortable pretending to be a boy all the time made her feel, and culminating in a diatribe about her awful first potions lesson.

"It was the class I was most excited for, since first years can't take care of magical creatures, and he ruined it," Harry complained. "I reall think he has it out for me."

"Rubbish," Hagrid stated. "What could he have against you?"

Harry wasn't sure but Hagrid seemed to get a little shifty around the subject of Snape's dislike for her. "I don't know, he seemed to really have a problem with my being famous," Harry answered with a shrug.

As her eyes wandered across the room she spied a cut out article from the Daily Prophet and began to read it.

Gringotts Break-in Latest: Vault Empty, Goblins Say

Investigations continue into the break-in on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts Goblins, after over a month of non-answers and deflections, have finally made their statement regarding the now infamous break-in, insisting nothing was taken. The vault that was searched had aparently been emptied that very same day. Could the owner have anticipated that they were targetted for the theft beforehand?

Gringotts has remained otherwise tight-lipped, refusing to divulge who the vault belonged to or even what was insidebefore it was emptied. Going so far as to tell this reporter to "keep your nose out of it,if you know what's good for you!" this afternoon in an interview with the Gringotts spokesgoblin.

"Hey, this break-in happened on my birthdy," Harry pointed out. "That means it was the same day we were in Diagon Alley, it might have been happening while we were inside the bank! Did you see anything suspicious while you waited for me in the lobby?" Hagrid looked slightly panicked and refused to meet Harry's eye.

"Well, I had other business in the bank, Dumbledore's orders, and didn't get back out until just before you did." Hagrid cleared his throat awkwardly and took a drink from his empty mug. The rest of tea passed in polite small talk, but Harry's mind was still on Hagrid's strange behavior regarding the break-in.

As Harry and Hermione were walking back to the castle for dinner, Harry suddenly realized what the answer might be. Hagrid said he had been on business for Dumbledore in the bank. What if Dumbledore was the vault owner and Hagrid had emptied the vault while Harry was looking through her family heirlooms?


Comment Responses:

On Owl name choice: I chose the name Monica based on the fact that since Saint Hedwig is the patron saint of orphans, assuming Rowling chse this on purpose I wanted to base this Harry's owl's name on a different Saint. Saint Monica is the patron saint of victims of verbal abuse so I thought it equally apropriate.

On Dumbledore: Looking back, I wrote Dumbledore to be a lot more manipulative/evil than I intend him to be now for this story, so at some point I will go back and modify that chapter a little to reflect a more well-meaning, but still problematic Dumbledore.

On Harry being in Gryffindor: I thought I might sort her into Ravenclaw for a long time, but then when I sat down to write it, I decided to think about how I had designed the character and what was most important to her. She is trans, obviously, but if you look at the way I've written her realization of that fact, she specifically sees her state as a cosmic mistake, she basically believes that God will try to stop her from transitioning and she still pushes foreward constantly trying to find more information and make plans. She knows, or at least believes, society atlarge will rejecther like the Dursley's have, but she pushes past that. I see this kind of bravery as far more brave than simply not wanting to be in Slytherin just because someone told you it was evil house. Plus, look at how bravely she decides to try and protect Hermione when the hat tricks her into thinking she was sorted into Slytherin.

On Harry's Vegetarianism: It was honestly a random choice I made during a period of time I was enamored with vegetarian cuisine. But from the beginning I wanted this Harry to be very anti-violence and a lover of animals, so it fits her character pretty well, I think.

On Second Hand Clothes: Harry's been told all her life that she is a waist of money. Furthermore, she's been researching how to get away from the Dursleys and self-sufficient basically the whole summer. Now she finds out she has a nest egg, while teenage hormones might make her a little less thoughtful and frugal later on, for now she is focussed on making sure she has enough money to pay for everything she could possibly want or need, she's not going to waist it on fancy clothes when second hand clothes will do just fine for much cheaper, plus she has some nicer clothes that she inherited from her parents.

On the Hogwarts Dorms: Nowhere in the books is it implied that Hogwarts castle is sentient and it is also implied the magic keeping boys out of the girls' dorms were set up by professors, not part of the castle's own enchantments, and from premodern perspective the best way to keep boys from the girls' dorms would be to scan for dangly bits, unfortunately. Furthermore, even if Hogwarts dorms could somehow detect someone's gender identity, it wouldn't matter because it's the house elves that put your belongings in the dorms. As to the founders, or even later generations of professors, I'm not writing Wizarding society, or at least not british wizarding society as progressive. Considering a racist minority nearly took over the country 11 years before, wizards can live almost twice as long as muggles and wizarding society seems to be stuck in the 1800s overall, I don't think its unreasonable to assume they don't have very progressive views on lgbt issues. Don't lose hope, though, Harry will comeout eventually and you'll get to see all the fun reactions from various wizards and witches.

To Everyone who urged me to update: I'm sorry this took so long, truly, and I thank you for your comments, this chapter was hard and I've been in a long writing slump, but each person telling me they loved the story and wishing for more got me convicted to write at least a paragraph or two, culminating in 3000 word blitz on monday night. I might have given up if it weren't for all of you, so thank you, and I will try to get chapters out more frequently from now on.

On Harry's gender: I've had a couple insensitive comments, one I had to delete, so let me state here. Harry in this story is not a boy. I might do a crossdresser/drag queen Harry oneshot at some point because the idea greatly amuses me, but in this fic, Harry is female. She looks exactly the same as the Harry Potter we know and love from Rowling's books (who honestly looks pretty effeminate if you go by the illustrations, but that's not really relevant) But she does not identify with the gender (male) she was assigned at birth. By definition, this makes this version of Harry a transfemale.