Author's notes: Well, here we are again. I am absolutely thrilled by the response I've gotten from the first three chapters of this little fic. Thank you, everyone that has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed. It very much means a lot to me and I'm happy to see the interest that people have in this story.
In this chapter we get to see the immediate aftermath of what happened to Harry after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Now, this chapter and next chapter there's a shift that might cause a little bit of confusion so I want to make it clear in advance so people aren't wondering. During this chapter, Harry will still mostly be referred to as Harry. Starting next chapter in narrative she will be called Harleen almost at all times. The only time 'Harry' will be used is when it is another character speaking to her.
Hope this meets with everyone's expectations. There's a bit of chaos, a bit of mayhem… wait… different story, sorry. There's some interesting times ahead of us, however so…
Disclaimer: I still own nothing important.
I now present chapter four of A Fair Life. Enjoy!
A Fair Life
Harleen Janine Potter
by,
Rtnwriter
Panic. Chaos. Bedlam. These words, and many others, were apt descriptions of the state of the Great Hall just after the pulse of energy rippled outward from Harry and the last of the lights were snuffed out, leaving the darkness complete. Not that light would have helped Hermione as she blindly pulled her best friend into her arms. She was fairly sure that she was crying too much to be able to see clearly anyway.
Is he lighter? she wondered absently as she held his slender form against her.
A loud bang, like a cannon blast tore through the air and several voices were raised in panicked shrieks for a moment before the candles all flared up, bringing light back to the room.
"Everyone, please calm yourselves and return to your seats."
Hermione barely heard Dumbledore, her mind in a daze as she struggled to push back her tears and focus her attention on Harry. She roughly scrubbed away her tears and looked around, taking in the scene around her. Dumbledore was on his feet, power absolutely radiating off of him. The professors and visitors at the staff table were in the process of picking themselves up off of the floor and a flustered and disheveled Madam Pomfrey was approaching. Her hat was askew, hair loosened from its bun and her face was set in a grim expression as she sank to her knees beside them.
"Miss Granger," she said in a calming, gentle tone. "Let me examine her."
Hermione blinked several times in confusion. "Her? Who-"
She cut herself off when she looked down at the figure in her arms. Harry was different. The black, short cut, messy hair that had always been a trademark of her best friend was no more. While still black and messy, Harry's hair was longer, probably reaching down to the bottom of his shoulder blades with a fringe across his forehead that hid the famous lightning bolt shaped scar.
His facial features were softer, cheekbones higher, nose smaller with a slight upturn to it and his lips were suddenly fuller, pink and tempting. Hermione wrenched her eyes away only to freeze again as she caught sight of the curvature of a pair of breasts suddenly straining the buttons of Harry's uniform shirt.
"He-he's… he's a…" Hermione trailed off, eyes wide and completely unable to fully comprehend what she was seeing.
"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said sharply. "I need to examine Miss Potter."
Hermione nodded shakily and carefully set her friend on the ground, moving back just slightly as Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand over Harry.
"Definite concussion," she muttered as she worked. "Strained or torn muscles, ligaments, and tendons throughout her body. Stress fractures… everywhere…"
Fresh tears stung Hermione's eyes as Madam Pomfrey trailed off, continuing to mutter to herself as she studied the results of her diagnostics, but she angrily dashed them away, forcing herself to focus. Harry doesn't need you to fall apart, Granger, she berated herself. He… She needs you to be strong. Merlin… did you know this was going to happen, Harry?
Harry, of course, had no answers for her. Not yet.
"Miss Granger… Miss Granger!"
Hermione blinked and focused her attention on the mediwitch in front of her.
"I'm sorry, what?" she asked.
"The damage isn't too severe, I promise you. But aside from the physical strain, Miss Potter will very likely be mentally and emotionally fragile once she wakes," the mediwitch explained, giving Hermione a pointed look. "Having the support of her friends will be of great help to her. Can she count on you for that?"
Hermione took a deep breath, her expression hardening as she gave a single, curt nod. "I'm not leaving hi-her," she insisted to which Madam Pomfrey offered a small, encouraging smile.
"How is she, Poppy?"
Hermione looked up to find the Headmaster standing next to them, a somber expression on his wizened face and looking older than Hermione thought she'd ever seen him.
"Not good, but honestly not as bad as I've seen before when she's been in my Hospital Wing," Madam Pomfrey said. "I need to get her upstairs though. She's going to need a number of potions but she'll be right as rain in the morning, if a bit sore." She stood and flicked her wand, levitating Harry's new and very feminine form off of the stones and onto a conjured stretcher.
Before she left the Hall with her patient she stopped and turned back to the Headmaster, leveling an angry glare in his direction. "I will be wanting some answers, Albus," she snapped angrily, "about why I suddenly remembered that Mister Potter was born Miss Potter. Why couldn't I remember that? Why was she a he for all these years? What exactly was she talking about when she accused you of doing this to her?"
Dumbledore let out a long sigh, glancing over his shoulder where Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout, as well as Hagrid and the three champions were all standing. "Yes… I imagine a great many people will have questions that deserve answers."
Poppy gave a curt nod and started walking away, leaving Hermione still kneeling on the floor, unsure just what she should do next.
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione's head came up to look at the retreating figure of the mediwitch. "I could use a hand, if you're of a mind."
She scrambled to her feet and hurried to follow Madam Pomfrey, stopping only long enough to tell a worried Gryffindor table that she didn't know what was going on, but as soon as she had some answers, she'd try to fill them in. It took some convincing to keep Ron, Ginny, Neville, Fred, and George from following as the remaining professors began directing all the students back to their dorms.
"Look, I need to go," she said, eyeing Madam Pomfrey's retreating form. "I'll try to keep you all updated as soon as I know something."
With that said, and with their voices ringing in her ears, she rushed off and left the Great Hall and the chaos within it behind.
#####
She sat by the Hospital bed half-an-hour after leaving the Great Hall, still without any answers to her many, many questions. First and foremost amongst them… Harry was a girl?
A really hot girl, too, she thought, eyeing the figure on the bed for a moment before suddenly flushing brightly at the direction her thoughts had turned. Get a grip, she furiously told herself, this is your best friend you're thinking about.
Your best friend that you're in love with but couldn't do anything about because the idea of being with a boy disgusted you, a voice in the back of her mind reminded her. She's certainly not a boy anymore.
You don't even know if this change is permanent, or if Harry would want to stay a girl, she thought back as Madam Pomfrey walked away from the bed, heading toward her office. Before she could really start arguing with herself a popping sound caught her attention and she started slightly, turning toward the sound to find a house elf standing nearby.
A very strangely dressed house elf.
On his right foot he wore a lime green sock and a hot pink one on his left foot. Most of his body was covered by the single loudest pair of boardshorts she felt she'd ever seen, pulled up until the waist band was just beneath his armpits and a bright orange sock hung from his left ear.
"Are… are you Dobby?" she asked, figuring this had to be the elf that Harry had told her about.
His bulbous, tennis ball sized green eyes grew wide and he began hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. "Missy Miney recognizes Dobby?" he squeaked. "Truly, Missy Miney is as smart a witch as the Great Harry Potter says, to recognize Dobby so."
Despite everything, all the chaos, worry, fear, and confusion, she couldn't help but smile at the excitable little guy's antics.
"Well, Harry described you very well," she said. "Not that I'm not pleased to meet you, but can I ask why are you here?" she asked gently.
Dobby bounced a couple of times and reached into a pocket of his shorts, pulling out two folded over pieces of parchment. He held one out to her.
"The Great Harry Potter asked Dobby to deliver this to his Missy Miney if his name came out of goblet and if he was not awake… also if he was not a he."
Hermione blinked several times as she parsed through the sentence. "You mean that Harry thought this might happen? That he might be…" She trailed off and glanced at her friend again.
"Yes, Missy Miney. 'Just in case,' the Great Harry Potter tells Dobby."
She frowned, looking down at the folded piece of parchment in her hand to find her name written on the outside in Harry's distinctive scrawl.
"The Great Harry Potter said to deliver it when Missy Miney is being alone and that she should read quickly," Dobby said after a few moments passed where she just continued to stare at the parchment.
Shooting Dobby a look, she nodded, sat up straight in her seat and took a deep breath before she opened the letter.
Hermione-
If you're reading this, then it really wasn't a dream and right about now I'm… different. If that's the case, and I'm not conscious to tell you, I still wanted you to know first. I want you, my best friend and the most important person in my life to know my real name, and to hear it from me before anyone else. So, let me take a moment to properly introduce myself.
Hello, my name is Harleen Janine Potter, but you can call me Harry.
Hermione looked up from the letter to stare at her friend again. "Harleen," she said slowly, as if tasting the name rather than simply saying it as a gentle smile curved her lips. "I like it."
Merlin, does it feel weird to write that. But… honestly it feels kind of good at the same time. Anyway, I don't have time, or you don't, to waste. I really, really need you to do me a favor, Hermione. Dobby has a second letter and it needs to get to Madam Bones at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, right away. Like an hour ago, right away.
I know things that I shouldn't be able to know, and there are people that won't be happy about that if they find out. Knowing me, I probably did something stupid and said some things that might have blown that already, but I need to mitigate the damage as much as possible. There's so much that I need to tell you, and so much more that I honestly can't tell you. I'll explain what I can as soon as possible, but in the meantime I need Madam Bones.
Life is about to get more complicated for me, and possibly more dangerous as well. Please, get the letter to her, and whatever you do, don't listen to Dumbledore. He's not an enemy, but he's made some terrible mistakes that have affected my life in some awful ways. Don't look him or Snape in the eye and burn this letter as soon as you can.
Thank you in advance, and I can't wait until we can sit down and talk.
Love,
Harleen Potter
By the time she finished reading, Hermione's eyebrows had climbed to somewhere near her hairline and she found herself with more questions than ever.
"First things first," she muttered. Grabbing a nearby bed pan, she dropped the letter into it and burned it with a quick incendio, reducing the single sheet of parchment to ash in a matter of seconds. With that task accomplished she turned her attention to Dobby and the second letter that he was holding in one long fingered hand. "Is that the letter for Madam Bones?" she asked and he nodded so fast that the sock on his ear went flying off.
"Yes, Missy Miney," he squeaked.
"Now, how do I get a letter to someone I've never met, who is somewhere I don't know and can't go to myself even if I did?" she muttered, chewing anxiously on her lower lip as she tried to puzzle out a solution to the immediate problem. She didn't know what was going on, but after the knowledge that Harry had shown so far, she was more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt until she could explain the situation to her.
"Dobby cans take it," Dobby said, bouncing in place. "Dobby would be happy to take letter for the Great Harry Potter's Missy Miney."
"I couldn't ask you to do that, Dobby," Hermione protested, at once wanting to accept the help while simultaneously not wanting to take advantage of Dobby's giving nature.
Dobby suddenly adopted a sly looking grin. "But Missy Miney be not asking Dobby," he said. "Dobby be offering."
Before she could respond Dobby raised his right hand, snapped his fingers, and vanished with a quiet pop, taking the letter along with him in the process.
Hermione gaped at the empty spot where the little elf had just been standing for a moment before her face broke out into a rueful smile.
"You know, Harry," she muttered as she sat back in her seat. "With everything you told me about Dobby, you forgot to mention how sneaky he could be." She moved her chair forward and reached out, taking one of Harry's hands in her own and giving it a gentle squeeze, more for her own comfort than out of any belief that it might help Harry.
"I have so many questions for you," she whispered. "I get the feeling that you've gone and gotten yourself into another adventure, as if your name coming out of that goblet wasn't enough. The problem, as I see it, is you didn't have me involved from the beginning. You know that you need me after all we've been through together the last few years, Harleen Potter."
For a time, Hermione continued to talk to her friend, taking comfort in speaking to her, even if she wasn't responding, while she waited to see just what was going to happen next.
#####
Raised voices were the first thing she heard. Muted, muffled, but definitely raised based on their tone.
Someone's upset, she thought deliriously, her mind struggling to remember just what had happened and why did she hurt so damned much?
"I don't care how the boy got his name to come out of the goblet, I just want to be certain he doesn't make a mockery of this event! The Ministry will not stand for some brat causing problems with our international relations!"
"Minister, Miss Potter has already stated that she did not put her name in the goblet nor did she ask anyone to do it for her. She has also stated that she doesn't want to compete in your tournament, anyway. It is your appointed Ministry Representative that has stated that she has no choice and must either compete, against her will, or forfeit her magic!"
"Then he shouldn't have hoodwinked the goblet!"
"Oh my- Albus! You deal with this- this… man!"
Fudge and McGonagall, she thought, slightly impressed with the way the stern professor was laying into Fudge.
"This is a Hospital, and I have patients that need their rest. If you all do not stop shouting I will throw every last one of you out on your ears; Headmaster, Minister, it doesn't matter to me. Albus may control the wards to the school but I control the wards on this room, and I have final say on who is allowed in here."
Way to go, Madam Pomfrey.
"If we might all take a few moments to calm down. Nothing will be achieved by us all being at each other's throats."
"I would like to know what Hogwarts is going to be doing to investigate this matter. If need be I will happily supply a couple of my Aurors to lead the investigation."
Harry felt that voice sounded vaguely familiar but she couldn't quite place it at first.
"I assure you, Madam Bones, that will not be necessary, the staff and I have the situation in hand and the DMLE is not needed."
"My presence here was requested, Albus, and I am not in the habit of ignoring a request for aid when it is made."
"None of my staff, nor I, requested the presence of the DMLE."
"You are not the only people capable of making such a request. I have here a letter, written by Miss Potter herself, requesting that I be here tonight."
Uh-oh… might be time to 'wake up' before someone asks when I'd have had a chance to write or send a letter.
"...guh…"
"Harry?"
That's Hermione. I'd recognize her voice anywhere.
At the sound of her name the other voices suddenly cut off and there was a shuffling sound before a presence made itself known beside her.
"Miss Potter? Can you hear me?"
"Do ask the brat just how he got his name into the goblet," an unpleasant voice spoke up from somewhere nearby.
Snape, great. I need to deal with him like I need another hole in my head.
"Severus you are not helping," Madam Pomfrey said in an acerbic tone. "Kindly keep quiet while I see to my patient."
"Harry, can you open your eyes?" Hermione's voice came from beside her and she could feel someone taking hold of her hand.
Harry groaned quietly and slowly forced her eyes open, blearily looking around for a moment before looking down and taking in the new curve to her pajama top over her chest.
"So… I guess that actually happened," she muttered, then her eyes shot wide. "Woah… my voice sounds weird."
"Well, you didn't honestly think that you would sound like a fourteen-year-old boy still, did you?" Madam Pomfrey asked and she turned her head toward the mothering mediwitch as she heard Hermione snickering quietly on her other side.
"So what do I sound like, then?" she asked.
Madam Pomfrey favored her with a small smile. "You sound like a fourteen-year-old girl, Miss Potter."
Harry pulled a face at the address. "Yeah, that's gonna take some getting used to."
She squinted, attempting to bring the woman into better focus when she felt her glasses being carefully slipped onto her face.
"Thank you," she mumbled and tried to sit up but groaned in pain and quickly gave it up as a bad job. "Why am I hurting so much?" she asked quietly.
"The transformation that you underwent… well there's no way that kind of rapid change wouldn't have done some damage. Torn muscles, strained ligaments and tendons, stress fractures of most of the major bones… You also suffered a concussion when your head hit the floor in the Great Hall."
"Nothing permanent?"
"Nothing other than the obvious, dear. But I'll have you fixed up by tomorrow. You'll still be sore for a day or two most likely, but nothing unmanageable."
Harry sighed and relaxed further into her bed in relief, "thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
A turn of her head to the left found Hermione right where she expected her to be, sitting beside her bed and holding her hand, which she gave a weak squeeze. Her best friend's smile was shaky, but the return squeeze was strong and encouraging.
Turning her head again, an action that induced a bit of nausea, she looked around the room. The Headmaster, Barty Crouch Senior, Professor McGonagall, Minister Fudge, Snape, and a woman that she immediately recognized from that farce of a trial she went through in her fifth year, as well as two Aurors standing back from the group as a whole. Kingsley Shacklebolt and… she thought the second man's name was Dawlish.
"Would you be Madam Bones?" she asked, mindful of the fact they hadn't met yet. She seemed to be middle aged, just as Harry remembered her, shoulder length red hair streaked with gray and wearing a set of Auror Robes. She might have had a kind face, if she'd smiled, with a slightly square jaw and a monocle sat over her left eye, the chain hanging down where it was pinned to the lapel of her robes.
"Indeed I am, Miss Potter," she said in the clipped, no-nonsense tone that Harry remembered from before. "Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I do wish the circumstances could have been better. With me I have Aurors Shacklebolt and Dawlish-"
"It's late," Crouch interrupted, stomping up toward the bed. "You might feel you have time to laze around, but other people have work to do, so if you don't mind I'd like to give you the details of the first task so that I can be on my way."
"Fine, hurry it up then. I really would rather not waste my time dealing with a criminal."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Madam Bones arch one curious brow as she said that, but while she was obviously paying close attention to what was being said, the woman didn't comment.
"Miss Potter, you simply cannot accuse people of being criminals with no proof of your claim," Dumbledore attempted to admonish her.
"Right, like the criminal did with my Godfather?" she snapped, glaring at Dumbledore's crooked nose in order to avoid looking him in the eyes.
"The first task is set to take place on November 24th," Crouch snarled, his face beet red as he glared at her. "You will not be told what the task actually entails as it is expected that a true champion should show courage in the face of the unknown."
"Whatever you say, Barty," Harry drawled. "Don't forget, I didn't want to be in this bloody tournament, you were the one that said I was being forced to compete against my will."
Crouch's expression hardened even further than usual as he drew himself up to his full height for a moment before he suddenly spun about on his heel and stormed out of the Hospital Wing, slamming the door behind him as he went.
"It was very foolish of you to put your name in that goblet Potter," Fudge blustered. "Rest assured we will be investigating and you will have to answer for yourself once we find out how you did it."
"I've already said that I didn't. So, investigate away, it'd be a nice change from how you refused to allow any investigation last year."
Fudge spluttered and stammered for a moment, his face skipping red and heading straight toward purple before he too spun about and stormed from the room. The doors slammed a second time and a heavy silence settled over the remaining occupants for a few moments.
"Pompous windbag," Harry grumbled.
"That is most unkind of you, Harry," Dumbledore started, only to be cut off as Harry snorted out a derisive laugh.
"Don't talk to me about 'unkind', old man," she growled furiously. "I spent more than ten years with people that are truly 'unkind' because of you. My life has been messed with and torturous because of you. My body was changed… was violated because of YOU!"
She finished with a shout that echoed through the room, leaving her panting for breath, feeling a bit weak, and a little lightheaded. She was dimly aware of Hermione firmly squeezing her hand again, trying to offer some silent comfort as best she could and gratitude flooded through her for her bushy haired friend.
"You are an arrogant, selfish, ungrateful little boy," Snape suddenly spoke up again, his trademark sneer firmly in place. "An attention seeking glory hound, just like your worthless father-"
"Oh, put a sock in it, Snivellus," Harry said loudly, ignoring the way the dour Potions Master drew himself up angrily. "In case your feeble mind missed the memo, you worthless Death Eater. I'M A GIRL. I didn't ask for this. I didn't even know my father, so you comparing me to him is a mark of pride for me, just as it shows how much of an arrogant arsehole you are."
Looking over at the shocked face of Professor McGonagall. "Why is he even here?" she asked. "He hates me. He's not my Head of House. He's nothing but one piss-poor professor of a single class that I take, so what purpose does his presence serve?"
"Severus has my complete trust," Dumbledore said only to be cut off yet again.
"Bully for you. You can trust him all you like. I wouldn't trust him with an acromantula and since this is all personal information about my life I would prefer that my privacy be respected," Harry snapped. "Get him out of here, or you can leave as well. I have business with Madam Bones that doesn't involve either of you."
"As your Magical Guardian, any business you have with the DMLE does involve me."
"You can't legally be my guardian as my actual guardian was illegally kept from me, and you are guilty of, at best, negligence, accessory to child abuse, child endangerment, and I don't know what other crimes, possibly kidnapping, but I'm sure Madam Bones will know what my actual guardian can have you charged with."
Hermione's grip on her hand became almost painful the longer she spoke and she tried to give the distraught witch a comforting smile, but Harry really wasn't sure how successful she was at that.
"And with that, I am officially taking over this discussion," said Madam Bones in a tone that brooked no argument. "Severus Snape, your presence is no longer required, leave now. Headmaster Dumbledore I may require that you leave as well, as allegations have been made against you, but for right now you may stay since I will likely have more than a few questions for you."
Snape opened his mouth, probably to protest anyway or drop some new line of vitriol, but the stern glare that Madam Bones leveled in his direction convinced him otherwise and he turned, sweeping from the room in a billowing of black robes.
"Well, at least I know how to clear a room," Harry muttered as the third man in as many minutes stalked off in a huff, causing Hermione to choke back a laugh from her seat beside the bed.
"Poppy, is Miss Potter well enough for a, possibly lengthy, discussion?" Amelia asked, a smirk twitching the corners of her mouth as she pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat. At the foot of the bed, Dumbledore conjured himself a squashy purple armchair and also took a seat, his expression giving away nothing of what he felt about the situation.
"Miss Potter? How are you feeling? And please, do not tell me that you're 'fine', be honest."
Harry's mouth, which she'd opened to respond to the question, snapped shut as Hermione and Madam Pomfrey both glared at her.
Sheepishly, and somewhat reluctantly, she admitted, "my whole body hurts, and my head is pounding."
Poppy nodded as if she'd been expecting precisely that answer and she turned to pick up a potions vial from the table beside the bed. "It's a mild pain reliever," she said as she uncorked the vial and Hermione helped Harry to sit up enough to drink. "It shouldn't make you drowsy, but if you feel tired be sure to let me know."
Harry made a face at the taste of the potion but couldn't deny that it worked fast as the pains in her body and in her head dulled to something considerably more manageable in mere moments. Hermione stacked several pillows behind her so she could sit up more easily, then handed her a glass of water, helping to steady the glass as she drank, removing the taste of the potion from her mouth.
"I believe she should be fine for a while," Poppy stated, turning her attention to Madam Bones who was waiting patiently. "But I will be staying here for this discussion, and if I see her becoming any more distressed I will put an end to it. It can be continued another time."
"Understood, Poppy," Madam Bones agreed, deferring to the mediwitch. She flicked her wand and a piece of parchment and a quill rose up from where they'd been resting on her lap to float nearby where she could see what was being written before she cleared her throat and turned her attention to Harry sitting in the bed.
"Miss Potter-"
"I'm sorry, would it be possible for you to just call me Harry?" Harry interrupted, her face twisting into a slight grimace. "'Miss Potter' is really going to take some serious getting used to."
"Of course," Amelia said. "Harry, you've made a number of accusations tonight against several different individuals. Severus Snape, Bartemius Crouch, and Albus Dumbledore. I'd like to go over each of them, one at a time if that's okay with you?"
"Absolutely. Should I start with Crouch?" she asked.
"That is as good a place as any."
Harry took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. "Sirius Black is innocent of the crimes that he was accused of and Barty Crouch is guilty of illegally imprisoning him, without a trial. Sirius is also my Godfather and my legal, Magical Guardian, as far as I know."
To her credit, Madam Bones didn't react beyond a pair of raised eyebrows as she gestured for Harry to continue. With Hermione's help, Harry explained the events that took place the year before, how Pettigrew was her parents actual Secret Keeper, how he faked his death, how he hid as a family pet for more than a decade, and how it all was revealed to them at the end of the school year, minus any mention of time travel, as Madam Bones' quill swept back and forth across the floating piece of parchment, dutifully recording every word.
"Why was this not brought to my attention?" Amelia asked once they were finished, her gaze directed at Dumbledore, who had remained silent during the entire recitation.
"I had no proof to offer, since Pettigrew escaped. Nothing to show that our claims were valid."
"I don't give a damn!" she snapped. "It should have been mentioned to me so I could have begun an investigation. At the very minimum, if Black really didn't receive a trial, then he's entitled to one. He should simply be declared innocent as Ministry law does not allow anyone to be held for such a length without charges being filed and a trial taking place. As Chief Warlock you should be aware of that, Albus!"
Her mouth suddenly snapped shut as she appeared to bite back whatever else she was going to say and she took a moment to visibly gather herself before turning her attention back to Harry.
"Harry, I promise you as soon as I go into the office tomorrow morning I will have the trial records searched for. If there aren't any, I will be starting an investigation into Crouch and former Minister Bagnold and I will see to it personally that Black gets a trial."
"If he should just be declared innocent then why can't you just do that?" Harry asked.
"I could," she admitted, "but the public perception would still consider him guilty. With a trial, he'll get a chance to publicly clear his name and remove any possible doubt of his innocence. Especially if he would be willing to testify under Veritaserum."
Harry considered that for a moment. "That makes sense, I guess. Minister Fudge will probably try to stop you though," Harry pointed out. "He was there that night, and absolutely refused to believe us when we tried to tell him that Sirius was innocent, or that Wormtail was still alive."
"I can handle Fudge, don't you worry about that." She sat back in her seat and took a calming breath. "Let's move on to Severus Snape," she said. "We will save your grievances with the Headmaster for the end, as I feel that will be a much longer discussion."
"Snape hates me-"
"It is Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore cut in. "He is your professor and you should give him the respect that he deserves."
"You can call me, 'Miss Potter,' old man," Harry hissed. "I have never given you permission to use my first name, and I've noticed that I'm the only student you talk to that way. You never refer to Ron or Hermione by their first names, it's always Mister Weasley, or Miss Granger. And respect is never deserved, it is earned.
"Mister Snape is a piss-poor professor, as I've already said. All he does is put the potion we're supposed to make on the board and tell us to start brewing, then he walks around the class insulting, belittling, and generally terrorizing any student not in Slytherin. He lets the Slytherin students sabotage our potions, that's negligence and child abuse, and then takes points away from us or awards the Slytherins for their own potions.
"He's taken points from Ron for things like blinking too loud. He's insulted my father, me, my friends, and anyone else he can get away with. He's a bully, and a Death Eater, and he hasn't earned the right to be called a Professor."
"Severus is no more a Death Eater than I-"
"So that's just a funny tattoo that he has on his arm?" Harry shot back, cutting the old man off. "Huh, could have fooled me. Or are you admitting to being a Death Eater too?"
"Severus made a mistake in his youth, but he returned to the side of the light and became a spy in Voldemort's ranks."
"If that's the lie you want to tell yourself, fine. I don't have any reason to believe that and plenty of reasons not to."
"I have been telling you for years, Albus, that Severus does not behave in a professional manner," McGonagall spoke up, her Scottish brogue unusually thick. "You've ignored me, Filius, and Pomona at every turn, and I'm ashamed to say that I've let you, but no more. As Deputy Headmistress it is my duty to ensure the Professors in this school uphold the standards of teaching that we are supposedly known for. I will be speaking to Severus and letting him know that he will be on Probation for the remainder of this year, and I will also be speaking to the students to ensure that he starts actually teaching his subject in a manner that befits this institution."
Way to go, Professor, Harry thought, staring in shock at the visibly angry witch.
"As far as being a Death Eater, Severus Snape has already been pardoned of any involvement by the Ministry. I will be looking into his involvement in the incident last year while I am investigating Black's trial, but I honestly don't believe that I will find much. Under the circumstances, he could easily argue that he felt he was assisting to apprehend a dangerous criminal, there's no proof either way.
"I'll leave it up to Minerva to handle him here at the school, but don't be afraid to speak up if you need to," Madam Bones interjected before Dumbledore could argue against his Deputy. "There are provisions that state that a student can hire private tutors for any subjects where they are at odds with the professors if need be, and from what I know of the Potter Family, you would more than be able to afford to do so."
"You mean I could have hired someone to teach me potions and I wouldn't have had to deal with Snape all this time?" Harry asked. When Madam Bones nodded Harry threw her free hand up in disgust. "Why does no one ever tell us these things?"
"A vast majority of students, or their families, would not be able to afford to hire private tutors on top of the expense already paid simply to attend this School, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall informed her. "The information was listed in the introductory packet that was given to each muggle born or raised student."
"What introductory packet?" Harry asked. "I never got a packet of anything. All I got was my letter and book lists when Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley before first year."
"You let Hagrid handle Miss Potter's return to our world?!" McGonagall practically shrieked, rounding on the Headmaster.
"Hey, Hagrid's great!" Harry tried to defend her friend.
"Please do not misunderstand me, Miss Potter. Hagrid is a dear friend and we all love him, but to be completely fair and honest, he isn't exactly the most… professional member of the staff."
Harry exchanged a look with Hermione and had to concede that Professor McGonagall had a point. As much as she loved Hagrid, he did have a number of flaws and blind spots in his reasoning.
"It has always been my duty, as Deputy Headmistress, to handle the introductions to our muggle born and raised students. When Albus told me he would take care of your introduction, I thought he meant that he would go himself, otherwise I would have insisted on speaking to you."
"Must not have wanted you to find out about the Dursleys," Harry muttered, glaring furiously at the old man.
"Why is that, Harry?" Amelia jumped in, her sharp eyes fixed on Harry.
Harry shifted slightly in her spot on the bed. She knew this needed to happen, she'd planned for this to happen, actually, but that didn't make the moment any easier to deal with now that it was upon her.
"I… I d-don't like to talk about it…" She trailed off and looked around, her eyes pausing briefly on Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Dawlish. "Can you please put up some privacy screens, Madam Pomfrey? I'd rather only have to show you, Madam Bones, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall."
Immediately Dawlish and the Headmaster began to protest and Harry, her nerves already stretched taut, snapped.
"Unless you want us to consider you a bunch of pervs and paedophiles, if you've got a dick, get the fuck out!" she screamed and Kingsley grabbed Dawlish by one shoulder, silently dragging him to a far corner of the room.
"Now, Headmaster," Poppy growled.
With a long sigh the Headmaster pushed himself to his feet, his armchair vanishing silently and he moved over to stand near the two Aurors, his shoulders slumped and head slightly bowed.
In moments a set of privacy screens were erected around the bed, enclosing the women and the two students. Harry was fighting back a wave of frustrated tears, Be angry! she thought. Angry is easier.
She blinked when a potions vial suddenly appeared in front of her, held in a familiar hand, and she looked up questioningly at Madam Pomfrey.
"Calming Draught, dear," the mediwitch explained in a soothing tone of voice. "You're getting too worked up and I feel this might be needed."
Silently Harry took the vial and downed it, instantly feeling the effects of the potion spread through her.
"Madam Pomfrey?" she asked as she handed the vial back.
"Yes, dear?"
"Umm… not to be… I mean… well how come you're being so much nicer than usual? Not that you're not nice, it's just usually you're a little more…" She trailed off, flushing brightly and unsure just how to explain what she meant.
Luckily, Madam Pomfrey seemed to understand and just gave her a small smile. "Usually you're in here because you've done something foolishly brave or reckless. Tonight however is entirely no fault of your own, so my usual admonitions do not apply."
She patted Harry's hand and stepped back. Harry nodded, pushed the thin blanket aside and, ignoring the residual pain, turned and threw her legs over the side of the bed as Hermione stood and moved slightly to the side to make room and help Harry sit up.
"Woah… that felt weird," she muttered, frowning slightly.
"What's wrong," Hermione asked and Harry looked up at her, suddenly flushing again.
"N-nothing," she stammered.
"Harry…" Hermione's voice trailed off with a warning tone.
"Nothing's wrong… really!" she added at her friend's disapproving frown. "Just… when I moved my… my chest… uh… shifted? It felt weird."
A soft pink rose in Hermione's cheeks and for a moment her eyes darted down toward Harry's chest before her entire head jerked back up and she let out a nervous sounding laugh.
"Yeah, that can happen, Harry. We'll have to see about getting you some support."
That was a topic Harry was very much not ready to deal with, so she simply shoved those thoughts aside and focused on the buttons to her striped pajama top.
Despite the Calming Draught, Harry's hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly undo the first button and, after a minute of fumbling, a hand covered hers and she looked up into a worried cinnamon gaze.
"Let me help," Hermione murmured softly. After several moments Harry sighed and lowered her hands to her lap, silently nodding her head for Hermione to proceed.
In different circumstances, at a different time, Harry felt the next few moments might have been an extremely pleasant experience. Hermione's fingers were deft, easily undoing each button and working down the front of her top. As she moved lower, she leaned further towards Harry, the tangled mass of her bushy hair swaying forward to brush softly against Harry's cheek in a cascade of vanilla scented curls.
As it was, she barely registered these things save for one small corner of her mind, the rest of her attention fully focused on staying calm. A pair of hands coming to rest on her shoulders startled her, and Harry realized that her best friend had finished, her top was lying undone but still drawn closed, covering her.
Awkwardly, she held the blouse closed as she shifted the left side of the garment, painfully trying to free her shoulder and arm. Noticing the difficulty Harry was having, Hermione helped her pull her left arm through the sleeve. Harry then shifted to using that arm to cover her new breasts as she shrugged off the top, letting it fall down her right arm and pool behind her on the mattress. Reaching up with her free hand she gathered as much of her hair as she could from where it now concealed most of her upper back and pulled it over her right shoulder, to bare the entirety of her back to the three august women behind her.
A hissing sound came from somewhere behind her, and she wasn't at all certain which of the women created it, only that it certainly wasn't Professor McGonagall as her Head of House had broken out into a stream of cursing, the woman's Scottish brogue thicker than ever and making her almost completely unintelligible.
Harry knew exactly what they were seeing. She'd checked herself often enough to have a perfect mental picture of the myriad of long scars that criss crossed her back from the tops of her shoulders down to just above the curve of her arse. One, the worst one of the bunch, actually curled over the top of her right shoulder and ran diagonally down her back nearly to her left hip.
Pushing herself to her feet, her eyes lowered to the ground in front of her she turned to face the adult witches, visibly forcing herself to lower the arm she was using to cover her breasts as she heard a choked sob from Hermione behind her as her friend saw the scars across her back for the first time.
Across her front were more twisting scars at least three of which crossed over her breasts with the rest running mostly horizontally across her abdomen. Quickly, she covered herself again and turned back around, almost falling to her seat on the bed.
"How is it that I have never seen these, Miss Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked in a tight, strangled tone that did little to hide just how furious she was. "I have examined you on more than a few occasions, and I've seen you without a shirt before. There were never any scars."
Harry spent a moment attempting to put her top back on, but she found it awkward and too difficult to manage with just one free hand. Just as her frustration was beginning to brim over, a pair of hands pulled the garment up over her shoulders and held it closed in front so she could work her left arm back into the sleeve.
She had no trouble with the buttons this time, closing them quickly. She looked up into her best friend's tear filled eyes, just before Hermione's arms wrapped around her and the girl began to sob openly on her shoulder.
"I didn't want anyone to find out," Harry admitted, carefully turning on the bed and bringing her friend with her so both of them were sitting on the thin mattress as she turned her attention back to Madam Pomfrey. All three women appeared furious she saw, and she flinched for just a moment before forcing herself to calm, Hermione's arms tightening almost painfully around her.
"In first year, when I found out that the Quidditch team showers were an open locker room style, I went looking for something to hide them. I found an advanced glamour charm in the library and used that to make sure no one would know."
"How were you able to cast it in your first year? Glamours are notoriously tricky and should have been beyond you."
"Professor McGonagall told us in our first week that a lot about magic has to do with intent. Well… my very strong intent to hide them was really, really…" She shrugged. "I guess that made up for me being so new to magic."
"Why would you want to hide them? We could have helped you. I assume they are because of your guardians?" Madam Bones asked.
Harry nodded, her voice fading to a near monotone the longer she spoke, "My Aunt and Uncle hate magic and anything to do with it, especially me. Anything that went wrong was always my fault, even if it happened miles away from where I was. Any accidental magic always resulted in at least getting locked in my cupboard for days or a beating at worst. This scar," she held a hand to her right shoulder, knowing they would know which one she meant, "was an early sixth birthday present, actually. I wasn't thinking, and at Dudley's birthday party I asked Uncle Vernon if I'd get any presents for my birthday. He waited until after the other kids were gone before he grabbed me, pulled off his belt, and whipped my back. Said that's all I would be getting for a birthday present and I should be grateful for that much."
"What cupboard?" Madam Bones asked, easily just as furious as anyone else.
"The cupboard under the stairs was my bedroom from the time I was dropped off there until the day my first Hogwarts letter arrived. It was addressed to me in my cupboard. Vernon and Petunia were so paranoid that someone was watching them they moved me into Dudley's second bedroom."
"And Dudley is…?"
"My cousin. It's a four bedroom house. Vernon and Petunia in one room, Dudley's room, a guest room, and the last room was for all of Dudley's broken toys and junk that he didn't want anymore."
A moment later the privacy curtains vanished and a loud 'SMACK' tore through the air as Minerva McGonagall stormed across the room and slapped the Headmaster across the face so hard that he nearly fell to the ground, stumbling several steps just to keep his balance.
"Ah teld ye, Albus!" she shrieked, rearing back to hit him again until Kingsley leaped forward and grabbed ahold of her, preventing her from physically assaulting the Headmaster a second time. "Ah teld ye they were the worst sort of muggles the night YE insisted we leave the wee bairn there!"
"I assure you that it was for the best that Miss Potter remain with her family."
"Tha thu gòrach, dall, bleeding àrdanach, gobhar fucking, seann BASTARD!"
Everything else Professor McGonagall said after that devolved into such a mess of garbled Scottish slang, and her accent became so thick, that not a single one of them could even begin to hazard a guess as to what she was saying. Her red, furious face, enraged tone, and the way she continued to try to hit, and even kick, at the Headmaster told the story well enough.
A shrill whistle tore through the room causing everyone to freeze, their attention turning to where Madam Bones was lowering her fingers from her mouth. Even Professor McGonagall's rant cut off mid stream as she shifted to focus her attention on the formidable woman of law enforcement.
"That's quite enough of that, Minerva. I understand that you're angry, believe me, I do, but what kind of example are you setting for Miss Granger and Miss Potter?"
Harry marveled at the fact that, with two simple sentences, Minerva McGonagall suddenly looked like any of her students that she'd caught doing something they weren't supposed to, just before House Points were taken and detentions assigned.
"Everyone, come back over here and sit," Amelia demanded. Wordlessly they did so, Kingsley releasing Professor McGonagall with a muttered apology to which she simply offered him a small smile and reached up to pat one of his broad shoulders.
"Miss Potter, Miss Granger," Minerva said before taking her own seat. "I would like to apologize for my behavior. It was completely unbecoming of me as an adult and as your professor and Head of House."
"Perfectly all right, Professor," Harry told her, waving off the apology. "In fact, I think that's the most I've ever seen any adult stick up for me before, so, thank you for that."
Once they were all seated, save for her Aurors who stood not far behind her ready to act if needed, and with her quill and parchment floating in front of her once again, Madam Bones practically growled, "I believe that it is past time for us to get to your grievances with the Headmaster."
Harry nodded shakily, exhaustion creeping in, and her pains getting worse the longer things went on. She shifted Hermione so that the two of them were sitting side by side on the bed, and though Hermione had stopped crying by that point, she was still wiping away the tears on her face with her left hand. Harry took Hermione's right hand in her left and gave it a gentle squeeze before turning her attention to the Headmaster where he sat in another squashy armchair at the foot of the bed.
"I think first I'd like to ask the Headmaster a question," Harry decided after considering where to start. "Since you are the one that made sure I spent most of my life not knowing… what's my actual name? I seriously doubt that my parents named their daughter Harry."
Dumbledore sighed and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand for a moment before replacing his glasses on his nose.
"I would be very interested to learn how it is you know some of the things you've revealed tonight, Miss Potter," he started as most of the women bristled angrily, "but I understand that is very much not my place. Especially not at this particular point in time."
He leaned back in his chair and laced his long fingers together, placing the palms of his interlocked hands flat on his chest over his beard.
"When you were born, your parents named you 'Harleen Janine Potter,'" he said. "Never have I seen a couple so attuned to each other, or so devoted to their child. They very much loved you with every fiber of their beings. If you believe nothing else that I say, please, I implore you to believe that."
Harry made sure that her face showed nothing, but internally she had to admit that she was impressed the old man went for direct honesty. She'd almost expected him to attempt to hedge around the topic.
"Why was I left with the Dursleys, and why did you change me into a boy?"
"First, may I hear the answer to a question?"
"That depends on the question."
"When the Aurors and I were banished, from your comments I infer that some of your clothing was removed in order to show something to the ladies present. Am I correct in assuming the thing shown was scarring or other evidence of mistreatment?"
Harry didn't answer but the sob that broke free from Hermione's mouth appeared to be answer enough as Dumbledore's eyes slid closed and he let out a shuddering breath.
"Dear girl, I cannot begin to apologize enough for whatever it is that you have been through." His eyes opened and he sat up straighter in his seat. "When your parents were killed, I had to find somewhere safe for you to live. Somewhere that could be protected against dark magic and those that would wield it in revenge of their fallen Master.
"I set up blood wards around your Aunt's home, as your closest living blood relative as long as you resided there then there was no way anyone from the magical world intent on doing you harm would have been able to find you. In fact, those wards did prevent more than a few attempts on your life over the years. I confess I knew life would not be easy for you there, but your safety from Voldemort's followers was paramount."
"No one with magic may have been able to hurt me, but that didn't stop the people I was forced to live with from doing their damndest to 'stamp the magic out of me,'" Harry snapped.
"What about altering her gender?" Madam Bones cut in.
"And why did I forget that?" Minerva added. "I was there that night. I was there the night she was born. I knew that Miss Potter was not a boy."
"As I said, I knew her life would not be easy, though I did not suspect it would be as bad as it apparently was, but the safety of the wards made it a small price to pay in my mind at the time. However, a young girl living in that house might have had a far worse time. Plus, an orphaned heiress of a Most Ancient and Noble House would have been pursued most vigorously by many factions of our society and I felt it best to prevent that until she was old enough to handle it.
"It was best to alter her gender, for her own protection. Once that was done, I hid the knowledge that she had ever been female under a modified Fidelius charm with myself as the Secret Keeper."
"You had no right to do any of that!"
Harry blinked, her attention turning to the bristling, furious brunette at her side in utter shock.
"No, Miss Granger, I dare say I did not. However I did only what I thought was best, under the circumstances. My intentions were pure, as terrible a result as they may have become."
"There's a muggle saying, old man," Harry growled out. "'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions'. You had no right to do that to me. There must have been other people that could have taken me in. Alice Longbottom was my Godmother. Neville's Gran could have raised me. I could have grown up with a brother. I could have grown up in my proper skin.
"Can you even guess what I don't know about being a girl that I should know? That I'll have to learn quickly? I… this body feels right in a way I never even noticed that being male felt wrong, but I don't know what to do. Everything is weird and off balance and…"
Harry trailed off, frustrated and furious, unable to further articulate what she wanted to say.
"I'll help you, Harry. I promise, I'll make sure you learn what you need to know," Hermione told her, wrapping one arm gently around her shoulders.
"No place but your Aunt's home offered the same level of protection. I also felt it would be best growing up away from the fame you would have been subjected to living in this world," came Dumbledore's argument.
"Do you honestly think Madam Longbottom would have let me get a swelled head or an overdeveloped ego? There's so much I need to know that I don't because you kept me from this world. Not just about my being a girl, but about my family, my history, my place in our society. I'm going to be the head of a Most Ancient and Noble House one day, and I don't know the first thing about what that entails.
"Did you even consider that the transformation you forced on me used my own magic to maintain itself? How many times have I faced a shade of Voldemort already and I haven't been at my full strength!"
"What do you mean by that, Miss Potter?" Madam Bones jumped in, a sharp look in her eyes and Harry let out a tired groan.
"It's a long story," she hedged, lifting one trembling hand to her head.
"Is it something the Headmaster would be able to answer?" Poppy asked, her wand already out as she stood and approached the bed, diagnostic spells flying as soon as she was close enough.
"He could," Harry reluctantly admitted. "Do you trust him to actually tell the truth?" she added with a look to Madam Bones.
"I will offer an oath, if it will make you feel better, to truthfully answer Madam Bones' questions on this matter," the Headmaster interjected. "I… I am more sorry than I can properly express for the mistakes I have made. I only hope that you can understand I was only doing what I felt was for the greater good."
Harry's eyes narrowed angrily at that damnable phrase, but she was simply too tired and unsteady to blow up at the old fool any more than she already had and simply let it go for the moment.
Madam Pomfrey bustled about the bed, laying out a few potions and gently chivvying Hermione out of the bed and back into her chair. "If Miss Potter is not directly needed any longer then it would be best if she rested," she said.
"Can Hermione stay? Please?" Harry asked, aghast at how small her voice sounded but unable to help herself.
Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall exchanged a look and their Head of House simply nodded once.
"That will be fine."
"Our friends are probably waiting for me," Hermione spoke up, turning to Professor McGonagall. "They're all worried about Harry."
"I will go and inform them of what has happened. Rest assured, Miss Potter," she added at the panicked look that stole over Harry's face, "I will keep out any private information. They will know only about your transformation, and that being a girl is how you should have always been, were it not for... outside interference."
Somewhat mollified, but still not entirely comfortable, Harry nodded her assent and focused on getting back under her blanket so she could lie down. Around the bed next to hers a new set of privacy screens were erected so that Hermione could change into a set of the hospital pajamas.
Closing her eyes, Harry let her thoughts drift, waiting for quiet to be restored to the Wing, and for sleep to claim her.
