Harry had been delighted, of course, to end up in Gryffindor, the house with three of their only friends. When the table had cheered, shoving into Harry merrily or doffing their hair, Harry had kept themselves low and given a toothy, nervous smile. "
Keep your head down," a voice echoed within them. "If you start anything, they may decide they don't want you and send you back."
The thought made Harry shiver, but they weren't sure how they were going to manage this, seeming as they had already garnered a reputation and moniker. The sniveling blonde boy who'd been sorted into Slytherin had taken no time to remind them of that. As Harry strode along the other first years, and Ron and Hermione talked amongst themselves, they couldn't kelp being awed at the expanse of the castle. They wanted so much to keep out of trouble and stay there, but there was an allure of adventure and mystery behind every corridor corner, at the top of every stairway, locked behind each door, and Harry shivered, an itch forming. Something spoke inside Harry again– "You make waves, you're going back. You're too curious for your own good, BOY." The last enunciated word made Harry realize this voice had taken on the tone of their uncle.
After a speech with the upperclassmen in the Gryffindor common room, Harry was ready to lie down for an impossibly long sleep; it'd been a whirlwind of a week. Harry shook at the thought of a real, them-sized bed without splinters and aches in the morning. They watched as the other first-years started ascending, thinking how lucky they'd been ending up here, at long last; they didnt even realize they'd fallen back into the habit of letting others go into rooms first before themselves, a lesson drilled into them at the Dursley household. It took until Ron was at the top, looking back for Harry and saying, "Well come on Harry, whatcha waiting for?", that they broke out of their stupor, smiled widely, and started for the stairs, grabbing their luggage.
A new start. Up 1-2-Thr––
With a loud clunk, Harry found themselves mid-air falling back, recalling the words spoken by the Gryffindor heads. "The girl's stairwell is enchanted so that no boys may enter. Founder's rule. When boys just decided to bring girls up to THEIR rooms instead, Founders made a similar enchantment on our stairs. Only men allowed up, I'm afraid." Harry thought back as they fell, about the times at the Dursley house, moments that predicted this, as if it was the divination Harry was going to study after the weekend–
They saw themselves be whacked on the head by Dudley, snorting and howling, in the yard. "I saw you putting those flowers in your hair, queer! Since you're never gonna be a man, mght as well try for a girl." The words had flown through them with the force of an electric shock, shame meeting fear meeting hope. Could they just try and be a girl instead? Maybe then they'd get cuffed less, or yelled at less when Harry cried. Maybe they'd get less of that weird pit in their stomach looking down at themselves sometimes? Hadn't they heard a neighbor say that women were often the ones that did house chores?– If they did those, surely they'd have to be a girl, right?
They saw themselves at the mirror, crying as their aunt took clippers to their hair when they'd grown it out over a week, hiding in the afternoons as best they could until it was all but noticeable. She cut it down to the roots, leaving them nearly bald and bleeding, but claiming, with precise haughtiness– "We aren't giving you a place to sleep in this household for you to be a poof."
They saw themselves in their underwear and crying before a red-in-the-face Uncle Vernon, who'd thrown Aunt Petunia's dress they'd found them in to the side and was now berating them on the stairwell, nearly incomprehensible beyond remarks like "freak", and "beat it out of you." Suddenly, Vernon stopped, breathing hard behind gritted teeth. Harry had tried to talk behind their sobs.
"I don't think I am a real boy. I think I'm a girl." Uncle Vernon's eyes had nearly bugged out, and they gripped the stairwell bannister hard. "Boy… you've gone too far this time." And as Harry had turned to flee to another room, Uncle Vernon had grabbed them by the arm, eliciting a yelp, whirled them past him, and flung them onto the stairs, tumbling and falling down, down, down.
Harry hit the ground and instinctively curled themselves up, luggage falling around them and Hedwig screeching and flapping in the cage that had bounced across the hall. "Please, Uncle, please," Harry whispered softly, too empty for tears. Harry heard some shouts and the sound of friction and looked up to see several of the boys sliding down what had been the boy's stairs to get to Harry. They shook themselves to remind them they were not back at the Privet house, uncurled, and sat up, cheeks on fire. As boys came over, and some of the girls appeared at the top of their stairs with worried expressions, Harry fixed their glasses and looked up sheepishly.
Ron squatted down near Harry to pick up some of their fallen items. Thankfully (and miraculously), none of them had spilled open.
"Blimey, that was a fall! You ok, Harry?"
As the stairs flicked back out, like claws, the upperclassmen rushed down in turn. Harry winced at the fact that they hadn't gone a single day without stirring trouble, muttered "'m fine, Ron. Thanks" and made to stand, looking around to see if they'd missed any suitcases. Someone had already brought over their owl, still squawking in its cage. "Hi, Neville, dont worry about it, we'll get it sorted." He gave a soft smile, that fell as he stepped back. Harry rubbed his hand softly over Hedwig's head to calm him, turned and saw the prefect and other upperclassmen, including Ron's brother Percy, taking glances between the disheveled Harry and the newly-recovered luggage.
"What happened? We only turned our backs a second! Someone push you down the stairs, Harry?" Harry looked up, knitting their fingers together. They wanted to say yes, please yes that was it, but another freshman standing nearby piped up first.
"I saw it, sir– He was walking up when the stairs suddenly fell away and he toppled over." The older boys frowned, looked over at Harry, in thought. One turned to Percy– "Maybe it was a fluke?" Percy furrowed his brows and shook his head. "The stairs don't do 'flukes.' Harry, can you try going up the stairs again." Trying to keep the beet red blush from their face, Harry approached the staircase, pleading, one step, two, and–
Harry once again felt themselves fall into an incline, this time trying to land lightly but still tumbling off-balance, then being caught by Percy. Several other students yelled when the steps gave way, and looked at Harry and each other. Percy frowned at the blushing first-year in his arms, then let him go.
"You ever seen this before, Wood?" Another older boy nearby shook his head. "Cant say I have. Too bad no brooms allowed inside, we could just fly him up. Think the enchantment's busted then, Perce?" Percy waved his wand in front of the staircase, and shook his head. "Looks like it's holding." He perched his hands and his hips and Harry did their best to look down and not cry. If even Hogwarts wasn't acknowledging them as a boy,… why would they bother to keep them? They'd called Harry a 'wizard', 'The Boy Who Lived', and even if they cringed at these titles, surely they were what Harry should be… right?
Percy looked over at their fellow students. "Well, looks like something's busted. So much for Founders' foresight, huh? We ought to get Head of House Professor McGonagall over here to sort this out." He chewed at his bottom lip.
Suddenly, one of the older girls from the top of the stairs whispered something to the girl next to her, whose eyes widened. "Hey!– Pippa here says she remembers a girl a few years ago couldn't climb the Ravenclaw girl's stairs, and no one saw her at the school after that." Everyone stared up at the two girls, and Percy raised his hand, then lowered it, lost in thought. Harry looked panicked– Had they really blown it on the first day in?
Oliver Wood came, touched Harry's shoulder, then looked at his boys. "Alright, we're not letting that happen. Gryffindors stick together. Percy– What can we do?" Percy blinked out of his thoughts– "Curfew's 10. Right now it's…" He checked the time on a clock hanging before the stairwell– 9:50… They'd have to act quick, then. Oliver's smile set into a determined smirk and he looked down at his younger pee who was shining with gratitude beside him. "Harry, if I may, there's something we could try…"
Five minutes later, Harry fell back into the arms of Oliver Wood, for the second time, blushing, and thinking at this point they may as well just call attention to the whole bloody castle. He sighed, and let go of Harry. "My casting's just not as good as my flying. You're up again, Percy. Got a good feeling about this."
Percy shook his head and stepped up. He looked at the cluster of people at the top of the stairways, pulling themselves back up to the top step. He licked his lips. "Alright. One more time. But if this fails we might as well try McGonagall, if this hasn't woken her up already. "Ready, Harry?"
Harry nodded. Oliver helped lift Harry onto his shoulders, and Percy positioned himself in a stance near them, wand in hand.
"Alright. Positions at the top!" At the top of the stairs, George Weasley gripped the hand of his twin Fred, as the second lowered down to the third step. He held the hand of the younger brother Ron as he moved to the 5th step. "Better put your back into it this time, Ronald," George teased down. "Don't want his dropped again," Fred followed. Ron tensed– "I got it this time, firm grip, all that. Bugger off." He looked down at his friend and gave a thumbs up. Harry looked back at Percy. "I… I can just sleep down here. Really, this is great, I didn't want to cause trouble. If you've got a spare cupboard I can even–"
"Harry," said Oliver, pointedly but not with malice. "We're short on time, and that's not happening. Good feeling about it. Just stay loose and light. Ready?"
Harry nodded.
While Percy hit Harry with the levitation spell, giving special attention to the 'Gar' and 'Oh' of "Wingardium Leviosa", Oliver lifted Harry up and tried once more with the hovering spell. Percy gently rose the wand tip, causing Harry's clothes to pull against them upwards, but Harry found they were again weightless enough not to nearly fall out of their clothes, as had happened the first time. Ron smiled as Harry started closing in the gap, while the alarm once again set off– though dampened now by a Silencio from another upper-year– and the stairs, recognizing more aura than contact, retracted, so that the Wesley brothers pulled up to keep Ron upright. "Ow!- easier, Fred, yank my arm out at this rate!"
As Harry drifted up, they thought about the circumstances that had brought them there, and how they were nothing but grateful and lucky, but that this all felt suddenly very ridiculous. They blushed and laughed, as they had the first time at the sensation of floating, in spite of themselves. Then they reached a hand outstretched to Ron.
Hermione had finally put her book down and come out to see the hubbub, trying to ignore it earlier for another review of the first-day material. She froze at seeing her friend mid-air, being lifted to the acrobatics of the Weasleys. "Harry?" She called. The other first-year girls along their staircase who were watching and hadn't gone back in after the first two attempts shushed her. Harry waved at her. "'Ello, Hermione! I'm ok! 'Long as Ron doesnt drop me again." Hermione kept her gaze on Harry as she dropped down to the girl beside her. "Parvati, what's going on?" Parvati turned to the other girl. "Dunno exactly. Harry couldn't get up the stairs without that spell going off keeping any of us from going up there, so they're trying a different way."
A peel of applause brought the girls' focus back on the boys' stairs, where Ron had successfully grabbed for Harry, and they'd hefted them back up, to everyone's joy and relief.
Harry liked the attention, to be sure, but they weren't still sure about the amount of peers saying, "We've got you, man!" And, teasingly, "Boy Who Climbed the Stairs!" They just wanted to keep their head down before–
A large clunk reverberated through the hall, and everyone froze at the sight of McGonagall at the head of the steps, arms folded together, a lantern staff balanced straight up. "It's curfew, students. Why are you all still out here?" Her trail of focus caught on the upperclassmen. "I'd expected more of you especially, Prefect Percy." Percy's head lowered, but Oliver came in front of him. "Please, Professor, it's my fault. We lost track of time congratulating Harry for getting into Gryffindor. You know, hearing from the Boy Who lived and all. Big stuff!" He hoped it was convincing enough.
McGonagall softened her look but still frowned at the members of the crowd. Finally, she softened all the way. "That is understandable. However, Hogwarts has rules to make sure you're all safe. If anyone needs anything, please don't hesitate to come to me as your Head of House. Furthermore, while I will not be deducting points this night, know that failure to return to rooms by curfew henceforth is grounds for losing points, detention, and other disciplinary measures." She looked around the area. "Is that clear?"
Percy stood straighter again, and took charge. "Absolutely, Professor. Alright, everyone! On up, up, to bed! You girls too! C'mon all, to beds." He started leading other lingering students up the stairs to the boy's hall.
Harry shot inside with Ron at his heels. "Close one! You ok?" Harry pulled at their fingernails. "Yeah, uh, thank you, Ron."
The week progressed in about the same manner– The next morning, the boys got out of the way so that Harry could slide down for breakfast. In the afternoon, they'd levitated Harry up on the first try. From then on, Harry had a buddy system going to bring them up to the boy's dorm. But something stuck in Harry's mind– They didn't so much hate the attention that the boy's gave, finding ways to get Harry around (and even suggested a few, although Oliver gently rejected 'Inflatus' as being "probably a bit advanced for first year, and likely embarrassing for Potter"), as much as that other students were starting to hear about it, and Harry was having an increasingly sinking feeling that it would be more and more known throughout the school. And it was the whispers of "What? Wouldn't let him up the boy's stairs? He is a boy, right?" that made Harry bristle the most.
On the third day, Ron was stretching before getting ready to attempt the levitating spell. No one else was around, and Harry needed to get back up for a textbook before the next class. This left him. "Ron, I can… I can go get someone else, if we need to. It's…" Ron shook his head sharply. "Trust me mate, I know I can get this." He inhaled, shouted the incantation, and… somehow Harry was stuck in midair, as if by the floating spell, but his body felt more like the binding spells they'd started reading about.
"Bloody 'ell," muttered Ron, coming over. "I… I'm sorry, Harry. I'll keep practicing. Want me to get one of the upper years for ya." Harry smiled, despite themselves– "We'll see if it let's me down in a minute. It's almost… comfortable, if I weren't suspended." Ron sat down on the step closest to Harry, looking like he was summoning the strength for something.
"Harry?"
"Hm?"
"You,… you know you can tell me anything, right, mate? I've only known you a short time, Harry, but I'm already thankful we met." If it weren't for you & 'Mione, it'd mostly be me and the twins I'm sure… and Percy cuffing me for everything, 'course." Harry gave a small chuckle, but they hadn't responded yet. Was Ron… was Ron getting at what they thought he was?…
"Harry," he asked, finally, "You're not a girl, are you?"
The breath caught in Harry, and he looked at Ron, expectantly, saying nothing. Ron continued, bowling over his words.
"…Like, maybe you're in disguise, from You-Know-Who, and all that?"
Harry relaxed a tiny bit, at that, but the question still went deep. Even the last part. These feelings…? They hadn't been magically transformed into a girl to avoid Voldemort, right? But that seemed ridiculous…. With their title of 'The Boy Who Lived' in the minds of the wizarding world, and everyone clearly knowing them, and… these moments, that didnt seem to line up with what a boy would be– it would've been a pretty crummy disguise. Harry shook their head at Ron.
"No Ron, I'm not a girl hiding from Voldemort. Don't worry."
Ron smiled. "I felt silly, even thinking it." That made something in Harry compress, but they didnt let on, instead smiling back.
A gentle cough made Harry look up and Ron stand up and wheel around. Professor McGonagall had her trademark sternness, but the increasingly normal look of perplexity that formed itself when she'd encounter Harry and their companions was also there. Harry also thought they could see amusement.
"Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley. Some trouble, I take it?"
Harry quickly explained that they'd just been practicing the levitation spell at the base of the stairs– not a lie– and that they'd accidentally gotten them stuck there. McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but seemed to lose any suspicion.
"10 points from Gryffindor for dangerous use of spells outside the classroom. I'd ask that you please try to refrain from use of spells on each other. As you can see, unsupervised, the effects can be decidedly unfortunate." With a few wand waves, Harry lowered from their position, the subject pleading for McGonagall not to put them on the stairs. Instead, she placed Harry back on the floor gently. "Do I make myself clear, you two?" Ron nodded, and Harry, trying to hold in tears, said, "Yes, Professor." After McGonagall had left, Ron went over to a bench, releasing a breath. "Bloody fast thinking, Harry. We nearly got––" When he looked back, Harry had already fled down the hallway to the restroom.
At dinner that evening, Harry was sullen while Ron tried to comfort them that they'd think up something to get around the stairs, something more subtle. Harry put his fork down, huffing– "That's… I've already made us lose house points, Ron. And, I hate needing someone to help me up there every day. There's gotta be something better." He turned to Hermione– "You wouldn't happen to know any powerful spells to counter those stairs, would you? Or a way–" They flinched– "To make me more 'manly.'" They looked down at that, and Ron put a hand on Harry's shoulders. "Those stairs dont know anything, mate. Way you stick up for others round here."
Hermione leaned in close to the pair. "I dont think I have a spell, necessarily. But… I do have an idea."
Some time later in the evening, the trio stood in front of the girl's dormitory stairwell. Ron still hadn't figured out what was happening, but Harry was coming down suddenly with the shivers; was it suddenly cold?… Why did they feel so vulnerable? Hermione went up, then came back down and looked around the corner. Ron threw his hands up– "Ok, Hermione, what're we doing? Shouldn't you be suggesting we go to the library to find a book on this?" Hermione crinkled her nose at Ron. "My life isn't ALWAYS a nose in a book, Ronald, despite what you might hear. Now, my roommates are already asleep in there. Ron, I suggest you do lookout." She pointed to the entranceway.
Ron muttered– "'Not always in books.' Could've fooled me…" But he went over and behind the corner.
Hermione relaxed, turned to Harry, and smiled. "He was right though. I read about this in an article my father showed me a few months ago." Harry stared at her. "What book? Hermione, I really appreciate this, but… I don't want to cause more trouble." Harry pulled at a loose thread in their robe and breathed deeply, keeping calm. Hermione suddenly took their hand. "Harry… I understand. You don't have to do this now. But, know I'm here with you, ok?" She squeezed their hand, and Harry lit up. "Thanks Hermione."
Then they turned to the stairs. Were… were they really about to do this? They were Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived', after all,… weren't they?…
First step.
Had Harry ever really referred to themselves as 'he'? Had any time they'd been addressed as 'boy' by the Dursley's not made them flinch, or throw their hands over their ears at (earning them a fist on the cheek)? Why did the times they were called 'he' make them feel nauseous, like they were wrong?
Second step.
Harry's breath went faster, body tightening, expecting the floor to give out. Were they wrong? Did they WANT this? Did this mean they were a 'freak' after all?
Third step.
The stairs held. Harry looked down at Hermione, a mixed expression of fear, confusion, and shock. Hermione looked up, hand to her mouth, then beaming. "Yes!" She shouted. Then the sound of footsteps made Harry freeze. Ron came around the corner– "Lavender's coming this way. You better–" Then he stopped, because Harry was still standing on the third step, paralyzed. "Harry!" Hermione reminded Harry, and Harry descended, shaking, before they led the way out into the larger hall, just as Lavender rounded the corner and waved at the trio.
They went to a corner of the Gryffindor common room, currently empty.
"Harry," asked Ron, without actually forming a question. Harry was looking down, hands open. Was… was that…? Hermione brought her hand to Harry's shoulder.
"You ok? I'm sorry. It's just, when you said you were scared, I thought maybe I'd offer, you know, the practical solution. Have… have you known, then?"
Harry blinked at the girl. "I… no… what?" Harry was having trouble focusing, and their hands were shaking. Ron was still staring– "Blimey, but I thought you said you WERENT a girl in hiding, Harry?" He brought his voice down tiny. "Why'd you not say earlier?"
Harry's vision was getting spottier, chest constricting. 'No, no, Uncle Vernon was going to kill over this. Never could go home if… No way they were actually?…" Harry barely registered the tears rolling down and onto the seat cushion. Ron scooted closer on the couch. "Harry?…"
Hermione now brought Harry close. "Harry, please, breathe big breaths with me, ok? We're gonna get through this." She took Harry through a series of breathing exercises while Ron looked on, nervously. Eventually, Harry's vacant expression faded back to normal, and they blinked, fixing their glasses. "I'm sorry." Hermione shook her head. "Please dont be. I used to have anxiety attacks a bunch back in school. My mother taught be techniques to center myself. I can teach you both them sometime." Ron looked at the girl– "You mean that wasn't magic, then?" He huffed. "Guess I could use something like that in Potions when Snape's staring through me." Harry was still looking down. How were they going to explain this to the others? To themself
Herself? The thought stuck itself into Harry's mind. It started dislodging more, until she spoke. "I… I dont… think I'm a boy…" Hermione put her hand in Harry's. "Take your time, Harry, it's ok." Ron looked over with a laugh. "Well, I mean, obviously. But we're not going to let some secret like that out when You Know Who's still got followers and all, right?" Hermione looked at Ron, questioningly, and with an edge of harshness. He looked back– "What?"
Finally, Harry sighed and turned to the two. "What Hermione is saying, is that I… I guess I've always been seen, as a boy. But… I've always felt,… not right, about that…"
Hermione smiled, and Ron scratched his head, tumbling things. "Well, if it's a disguise…"
Hermione wheeled on the boy. "It's not a DISGUISE, Ron! It's not a magic spell, it's biological." She sounded out the last word, and proceeded to switch into clinical mode– "Transgenderism is the medical (Muggle) term for a person whose gender identity differs from how they were assigned at birth. While their body suggests they should be approached as one gender, they will experience and are a different gender identity." She looked proudly at the others.
Ron shrugged his shoulders. "'Mione, I dont know what that means." Meanwhile, Harry, who'd picked out bits and pieces, was putting it together with things she'd heard from the Dursley's. "Those bloody q*eers across the street think they can go around buying up land meant for PROPER homeowners, do they? I saw him in the front yard with a dress on, and had half a mind to go over there myself. I'm taking this up with the neighborhood association. Those sissy-boys need to get off the block." "You see the ninnies are putting up some organization for themselves. Hmph! I know a place or two they'd belong, if they knew what was best for them. Skirt-wearing freaks…" Then the memory of her tumbling down the stairs, Vernon still looking from the topmost one in anger, and maybe desperation.
"I think… I think it means, I've always been a girl. Even if… it doesn't look like it," Harry brought forth. Hermione shined, both at Harry's admission and that she'd been able to instruct her on something. Ron was still two paces behind.
"Wait… so… what, uh," He kept from turning red. "What do you have, you know, going on down there, th––"
Hermione slapped Ron hard, mouth pulled gait, before he could finish. He recoiled. "Bloody 'ell, what was THAT for, then?!"
Hermione looked downright stormy. "Ron! Imagine if you asked ME that!" Ron rubbed the spot on his neck. "Yeah, but you dont look like…"
Harry crossed around and sat next to Ron. "Ron, you're my friend, and I know this is confusing, but, can you trust and support me on this?" Ron looked at her for a few seconds, and nodded, deflating. "Course, mate. I already know I'd follow you about anywhere." Harry smiled. "Ok, then. I was born Harry Potter, with…boy parts. Y'know." Hermione rolled her eyes in the background at the euphemism. "But… I've never been, I think, quite comfortable with that. And I think… I think I might actually BE, a girl."
Ron boggled. "Blimey, then, you can just DO that." Harry gave a half-smile- "I think it's more complicated than that."
Then she thought for a second, and turned to Hermione. "You seem to know more about this. Is… can that happen?" Hermione put her finger to her chin. "If I remember, the books I'd seen said the best treatment is to try and bring one as close to the gender they are in their mind as possible. And–" She pointed out the common room. "The stairs seem to have it all figured out already."
The prospect fizzed inside Harry, that she could… finally do something with those feelings she didn't have words for, that she wasn't 'The Boy Who Lived' or 'Get down here, boy', or a variety of other slights. She– It felt light, airy, yet deep, scary, a hole. She shivered. "I think I still need to figure this out." The two nodded. Ron felt the need to pipe up with assurance. "Take your time, mate. Wasn't long ago we figured out we were wizards all along, after all." The comparison made Harry smile, though she could feel something restrict at the words Ron had said. "Do… do you think you could not call me mate, then? Or… 'he'." She faltered. Was that right? She'd only thought of herself as Harry, but was this crossing a line? She rubbed her hands, not looking at her friends.
Hermione smiled at her. "Absolutely." Ron blinked. "Ok, so not bloke, then, either. Blimey, I'll have to think of something else- 'Chum?'" The word wrinkled on his mouth, and he shook his head immediately, Harry and Hermione burst into laughter.
"Ok, well, just 'Harry' then." Harry nodded. Hermione looked at her softly. "We can start small, but do you want us to try 'she' and 'her' as well?" Harry vibrated at the notion. Was it asking too much of them? Then she thought about the times she might use it. "I'm… I'm not ready for the school to know. So, maybe in private. If it's ok?" She thought about the fact that half the school already knew she couldn't get up the boy's stairs, then shook her head of the thought. Ron leaned over, conspiratorially– "Does anyone else know?"
Harry grinned, but it felt pained– "No, just you three. And I guess… I guess my aunt and uncle might've known."
Thinking about it made Harry's eye twitch; she put that thought aside, too. Hermione, seeing how Ron was whispering, brought her hand to Harry's shoulder. "Hey. There's nothing wrong with you. At all. From what I've heard, there are people are just like this."
Harry felt tears brush her eyes– She was so thankful for these two! How could she have gone 11 years without this?
"Thank you, Hermione."
Not wanting to be left out, Ron joined in as well, putting his hand on the other shoulder.
"I'm here too, ma– uh, Harry." Harry smiled and closed her eyes.
She opened them, frowning. "I don't want others to know, but I'm sorry. If… if it comes out, it might make things harder for you both. Are you sure…?" She couldn't finish, the tears now obscuring her vision as she looked down at the seat.
Hermione made a squeaking sound and brought Harry in for an embrace, while Ron raised his hands in exasperation. "Bloody e'll, Harry, we just said we'd be here for you, no matter what, ok? You need people looking out for you, 'specially with all this in mind." Harry, a tear still forming, smiled at the others.
"Thanks, you two."