5.
Some things I did with Professor McGonagall, who also outside of therapy sessions helped me discover more about myself, my likes, and my interests.
She helped me find my favorite things, in everything from food to books to movies. She would buy and bring things over for me and we would try new things together, on the days I had off from therapy. When Minerva McGonagall decided to do something, she put her all into it, and helping me was no different. It was something I really appreciated. She was an incredibly dedicated hard worker when it came to helping me discover my likes and interests.
I found out my favorite food was sushi, and I had a hidden weakness for chocolate. My favorite books were socially and politically driven novels, and my favorite music was classic rock. In movies, I was embarrassed at first by how much I enjoyed love stories of all kinds, both conventional and unconventional. In television, I loved standup comedy and cute, quirky, off the wall humor.
McGonagall bought me all these in spades, and also helped me narrow down the hobbies I wanted to try. I decided music, drawing, and cooking would be my three choices. She not only bought me cookbooks, but small instruments for my room and books with CDs on the violin, the piano, singing, and charcoal drawing in a coffeehouse sort of art style.
At last, my relatives decided to speak to me. Possibly it was the creations I was making a mess with in the kitchen, or the strains of horrible music they could hear from my room, or even the fact that I appeared to be enjoying myself and didn't bother to get angry with them anymore.
"What on earth are you up to up there?" asked Aunt Petunia suspiciously one day, the other two Dursleys glaring over her shoulder.
"I'm building a bomb," I said matter of factly, and as their eyes widened I walked upstairs to my bedroom.
Speaking of my bedroom, Pomfrey and McGonagall helped me decorate it. I made sure it was minimalist, no dustables clutter, no fuss. In colors, I used neutrals, and sophisticated colors like indigo and burgundy. I bought tailored bedding, and various textures instead of patterns. There were lots of clean lines, and very few accessories.
I wanted my bedroom to be a calming, tranquil place, an oasis of sorts, a place where soft, relaxing music played from occasionally. McGonagall even got me to clean up my mess in order to create a more soothing effect, and we put a lock on the door so the Dursleys couldn't enter without my say-so.
I learned a lot about McGonagall during our time together. I discovered she was an Animagus - she could transform into a tabby cat with square, glasses-like markings around its eyes. She also told me she was Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts, and she was the Transfiguration instructor - she had mastered the complex and difficult magical art of turning one thing into something else.
Both she and Pomfrey became quite motherly toward me, and before long I was calling them Minerva and Poppy. It was odd at first, but something I was happy to get used to.
In addition to increasing my self-awareness, they tried to increase my self-confidence.
"We have, I think, explained to you and showed you your talents and your good points," said Poppy. "But you're not as bad looking as you give yourself credit for, either."
I snorted, raising my eyebrows skeptically.
"Harry, let's do what Poppy likes to do and 'deconstruct' for a minute, okay?" said Minerva. "You have a small, slim body type. Your face is diamond shaped. You are a Winter complexion, with clear pale skin, messy black hair, and very striking almond-shaped bright green eyes from your mother.
"Notice that none of those, as I described them, are inherently bad things.
"But your relatives have purposefully tried to dress you all your life to make you look ugly. The big, baggy, greyish clothing from Dudley does a disservice to both your body type and your complexion. Your round glasses are tailor-made to make your face look long and overly thin. That haircut isn't doing your face shape any favors either - notice it's not the messy hair, but the way the hair is cut, that detracts from your overall appearance.
"Those are all things we can work on, if you'd like, when we go out shopping for your school supplies. We can get you a new look."
I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror that night, and for once, I could start to see what they saw a little bit.
They also told me about my mother.
"You are a great deal like your mother, Harry," Minerva told me, smiling, as Poppy smiled along and nodded. "You look like your father, and may even be good at Quidditch like your father, but it's your mother who I believe you inherited most of your personality from. Like you, she was thoughtful and kind, a clever and excellent student, but she could be quite fiery when she wanted to be. She was loving and an excellent family member and friend, with quite a gift for magic. She hated seeing injustice and she was quite loyal.
"Your father wasn't a bad person, but he was a deliberate and mischievous troublemaker with an attraction toward the traditionally masculine. And that isn't you at all. He was the Pureblood duelist; your mother was the Muggleborn Healer. I think it's clear who you most take after.
"You should embrace the part of you that you inherited from your mother. On top of everything else, she died saving your life."
Minerva even gave me a photo, of my mother and father smiling together in their last year at Hogwarts, as Head Boy and Girl. The photo moved according to a few specific movements and two-dimensional personality specifications, and I drank in hungrily the image of my dead parents, still teenagers, smiling and waving up at me.
