Disclaimer: This world and all its characters belong to JK Rowling. I wrote this purely for entertainment purposes, and have no wish to sell, copyright or otherwise claim any of this content.
"Good afternoon, my name is Anika Bellevue. You must be Veronica Weasley?
"I'm Ron," Ron said, sticking out his hand. Mum sighed.
"Ron, come on in. Mrs Weasley, if you would just fill out these forms, that would be spectacular." Mum sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room and took the quill and parchment Mrs Bellevue offered her. Ron looked back in confusion as he was ushered into a room with bright yellow wallpaper and a soft, light brown couch. "Isn't Mum coming in with me?" he asked as he cautiously perched on the couch. Mrs Bellevue sat in the rocker opposite him and folded her hands in her lap.
"One of our strictest policies here is our patient confidentiality," she explained. "Basically what that means is that here, in this room, you can tell me anything and, unless I believe that you are in danger, I can't repeat what you have said to anyone. Not even your mother. This creates a safe place where you can share your thoughts and feelings without fear of repercussions."
"Huh," Ron said. While he was still slightly uncertain, he supposed that was okay.
"So why don't you start by telling me how you're feeling today?"
Ron shrugged. "I feel fine, I guess."
"Excellent. Do you know what house you would like to be in when you reach Hogwarts?"
"Gryffindor," Ron said, sitting back a bit in the couch. He felt a bit more comfortable now – these were questions he felt like he could answer.
"Really? I was a Hufflepuff, myself." Mrs. Bellevue smiled at Ron. "What do like to do when you're at home? Read? Play outside?"
"Well, when I'm allowed, I like quidditch," Ron explained. "Charlie and Fred and George all play, and sometimes I'm allowed, too." He hesitated a moment before adding, "Especially when Mum and Dad aren't around."
"Do you hope to play when you go to school?"
"Yeah," Ron leaned forward, eagerly this time. "Charlie says I'm not focused enough to be a seeker, and I don't think I'd want to be a beater, but chasing maybe, and I think I'm pretty good at keeping, too."
"Really?" Mrs. Bellevue smiled again. "That's great, Ron. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to ask you some more personal questions. You play with your brothers a lot, right?"
"Yeah," Ron said slowly.
"But not as much with your sister?"
"No, I play with Ginny, it's just that sometimes she's boring and I'd rather play with Fred and George."
"And you consider yourself a boy?"
"Yes." That question, Ron could answer without any hesitation.
"Do your siblings also think that you're a boy?"
Ron hesitated. He'd made it clear on several occasions that he was not a girl, but he wasn't sure if they actually believed him. Ginny had been uncertain, Fred didn't seem to care, George went along with whatever Fred said, Percy insisted that Ron was a girl, Charlie seemed to understand, and while Bill wasn't as adamant as Percy, he still seemed to view Ron as his little sister.
"Not really, no."
"Then what makes you think you are a boy?"
"I just know."
After the session, Ron flooed home while Mum went to the Hutchinson's, where she always cleaned on Wednesdays. The house was surprisingly quiet, and Ron took the opportunity to scramble up the stairs and into his room. Shutting the door, he opened his closet and stared into the mirror that was stuck on the back of the door.
Before him stood a himself. Cautiously, he turned this way and that, trying to see if, at any angle, he would find someone different. Brown shorts, a light green t-shirt with a few grass stains on it, scabbed knee from a week ago, long nose, freckled face, almost-too-long hair. No girl staring back at him, no Veronica – just Ron.
Every Wednesday from then on, Ron went to Mrs. Bellevue's while Mum cleaned at the Hutchinson's. While he didn't quite see the point of these visits, because they didn't seem to be doing anything either for himself or for Mum, he put up with them because they made his parents happy.
Soon summer was at its end. Percy celebrated his twelfth birthday, Charlie received his OWL scores, and then it was time for him, Bill and Percy to return to Hogwarts.
"It's not fair," Ron grumbled as he trailed after them through King's Cross station on the first of September. "I want to go to Hogwarts."
"You'll get your chance, dear," Mum said distractedly. "Now, Percy, are you sure you have everything – No! Charlie, not now – "
Ginny squeaked and Ron hid his eyes as Charlie collided rather spectacularly with a group of young muggles who'd just walked into his path. Mum hurried over to where Charlie was too busy apologizing to the muggles to properly right himself and his trolley, and grabbed his arm. "– reckless, you didn't even look – " Ron heard her scold as she tugged both him and the cart back to their little group. Charlie shouted one last apology to the group before shaking Mum's hand off his arm.
"That wasn't my fault," he protested, but Ron couldn't help but notice that his ears were pink with embarrassment. "They came out of nowhere!"
Ginny, having gotten over her fright, let out a peal of laughter. "Even I can do better than you," she laughed.
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Can I go now, Mum?" he sighed.
"Yes, but take Ronny with you. She needs someone to run her through, and I'm taking Ginny. Percy, you can go first."
After watching Percy melt into the wall, Ron held loosely to Charlie's cart as they both started towards it at a slow jog. This time they made it without mishap (Ron winced just as they passed through the wall) and found themselves on the crowded, noisy station of Platform 9¾.
Just before he boarded the train, Charlie pulled Ron aside. "Listen, Ron," he said. He was nearly shouting because of all the noise. "I know thing's have gotten hard this past summer, but I'm just an owl away if you need me. Promise you'll owl me if anything happens?"
"Okay," Ron said. He knew that Charlie had to go to school, and before he'd never thought twice about it, except occasionally to be jealous. This year, though, things were different. Mum and Dad were taking him seriously when he talked about being a boy, even if it wasn't in quite the way that he wanted, and he still had to go see Mrs. Bellevue every week. Now that Charlie was leaving for school, Ron wouldn't have someone to complain to who would actually listen to him, or anyone to offer him actual advice. He'd had time to reason it out, though, and he figured it would be selfish to make Charlie stay home just to keep him company. He could be brave. He was a Gryffindor.
"Good." Charlie gripped his shoulder, looking more serious than Ron thought he'd ever seen him. "Everything's going to be fine, okay?"
"Okay," Ron repeated, confused now. Of course everything was going to be okay – it almost always was, wasn't it?
Waving goodbye with his family as the train departed King's Cross station, Ron felt the first niggling of worry in the back of his mind. If everything was going to be okay, like Charlie had said, then why had he seemed so worried?
Dear Ron,
Be glad you don't have to go to school yet – there's so much homework! I'm just barely keeping up yet, it seems worse than last year and I'm not even in my NEWT year yet. Bill hasn't been around much – between classes, homework and Head Boy duties he doesn't have time for much of anything, I don't think.
We just had Quidditch tryouts, and we have a new beater and chaser, two boys named Alex Williamson and Billy Clyde. They're pretty good, but we'll have to work hard this year if we want to be in the running for the cup.
How's everything at home? Mum hasn't made you get back in a dress yet, has she? Let me know about anything interesting, and give my regards to Ginny, Fred, George, Mum and Dad.
Your brother,
Charlie
Dear Charlie,
Everything's fine, for me. Fred and George got grounded, though. They blew up the chicken coop. The chickens are fine. Mrs. Bellaview said she was working on something that would help me, and that I should try to listen to Mum. Its hard to listen to Mum when she won't do what I want. You need to come home and cut my hare. It's to long and Mum says I should grow it out. I wish I were playing Quidditch, now that you aren't home we can't play unless Dad is there, and he's always at work so we can't play. Ginny says hi.
Ron.
Dear Ron,
That's great news! I'm glad that Mrs. Bellevue thinks she can help you. As for the hair: hang on until Christmas. I'll cut it as soon as we get home, it'll be an early Christmas present. If it's a present Mum can't take it away.
I'm glad the chickens are okay, tell the twins they get what they deserve and that they should maybe scale it back a bit until they can control their magic. Also, maybe if Dad let you play quidditch more they could burn off their energy that way.
Anyway, I'm sorry I can't write more, I've got an essay for Transfiguration and I have to run down to Hagrid's to check on the kneazle kittens we're looking after in Care of Magical Creatures before I go to bed. Give my regards to everyone.
Your brother,
Charlie
Dear Charlie,
Ginny won't leave me alone! I keep telling her not to talk to me and that she can't come into my room, but she comes in anyway and she always wants me to play with her. I'm not her personal entertaner! Yesterday when she came in my room I punched her, and she ratted on me to Mum and now I'm grounded. I know I shouldn't have punched her, but she came into my room and then told on me! Anyway, Mum's not that mad because I think she's excited. Mrs. Bellavue said that she's found out what's wrong with me. Aparently it's called gender-identity-disorder, and muggles get it. She said that there's a cure, its a potion and I can take it starting next month. I don't know, though. I still don't feel sick but I suppose if Mrs. Bellavue thinks I am she's the healer.
Ron.
Ron held the box of little bottles in his lap as Dad drove him home from the apothecary's. Mrs. Bellevue had sent in an order for the potions two weeks ago, and the day before last he'd gotten a notification that they were ready to be picked up. Both Mum and Dad had refused to tell him how much they had cost. Ron picked up one of the small vials and squinted at it. It was a dark maroon, which made Ron apprehensive because maroon was his least favorite color. The car jolted as Dad drove over a bump, causing Ron to nearly drop the vial, and he hastily tucked it back in the box.
"Dad," he said after a moment, glancing out the window at the gray countryside. It was raining outside, the water dropplets pattering steadily against the car as the wipers swept across the window at regular intervals. "What do you s'pose is in the potion?"
Dad glanced at Ron in the rear-view mirror. "Heck if I know. I stopped taking potions after I flunked the OWL exam. Don't worry too much about it though, Ronny. The Healers know what they're doing."
"They're maroon," Ron said with distaste. The car bounced over another bump.
"They'll help you with your disorder, honey. It'll make you feel better."
"But I don't feel sick," Ron complained. "I feel fine! This is all stupid."
"Listen, sweety – " Dad began, only to slam on the the brakes as another car honked and zoomed by a mere two feet from the hood. Ron was flung forward into his seat-belt, which caught him, and he almost lost hold of his potions.
"Ow! Dad!"
"Bloody hell," Dad cursed. He took a deep breath, then started forward again. "Sorry, Ronny, these muggle things are very difficult, you know. And about the potions, they're only going to make things better. For all of us."
"You still haven't told me what exactly they're going to do," Ron grumbled.
"Mrs. Bellevue said that wizard-kind have been using this particular potion to treat gender-identity-disorder for a few decades now, and it's proven very effective. There's nothing to worry about, Ronny, really."
"But what are they going to do? Will they make me into a real boy?" Ron asked hopefully.
Dad sighed. "No, they won't make you into a boy. You're a girl, Ronny, and the potion will make you feel better."
"So … it'll make me feel like a girl?" Ron asked uncertainly. How could a potion make him feel like something that he wasn't? While he wasn't sure feeling like a girl would necessarily be a bad thing, he also didn't think that would make him feel any better.
"I think that's the idea behind it, yes."
Ron turned to stare out the window. But I don't want to feel like a girl, he thought. I want to be a boy. His right hand, the one he was leaning against on the window, twisted a piece of his red hair and tugged on in gently. His hair was almost down to his neck now, like Bill's. He couldn't wait till Christmas, when Charlie had promised to cut it. Maybe Charlie will know whether it's a good idea to take these potions. Although it was a possibility, Ron doubted it. While Charlie was good at all things physical and had received an E in the potions OWL, Ron didn't think he was good enough at theory to be able to guess the ingredients of a potion from sight and smell alone.
When they got home, Ron dropped the potions in the kitchen for Mum to deal with then wandered into the sitting room where Ginny was reading upside-down on the couch. As soon as spotted him, she tossed the book on the floor and righted herself.
"Ron, I'm bored. Let's do something." The couch bounced slightly as she stood on it. "I've done all my for book-work today and it's raining so we can't go outside. Let's play chess!"
Ron was about to protest on principle, before he realized what she'd said. He shrugged, trying to maintain his indifference. "Sure. You get the chess board, I'll set it up."
Ginny was decent at chess – better than George, who almost never played unless it was against Fred, who was even worse. Percy was better, though, and Bill – who had taught Ron almost everything he knew of chess – was the best.
"You be black," Ron instructed Ginny as they settled in the middle of the floor.
"You're always white," Ginny complained, but she took the black pieces anyway and started setting them on the board. Ron made a face as one of his knights tried to attack one of Ginny's pawns. "No! We haven't started yet." He set the king and queen in place, then said "Okay. Pawn on 2C to 4C."
Ginny had just captured one of Ron's rooks when Dad wandered in, a cup of tea in one hand and a thick brown book in the other. He stopped to watch as Ron's knight wrestled Ginny's bishop off the board in retaliation, then asked "Have either of you seen your brothers recently?"
"Nope. I haven't seen them since breakfast," Ginny said as Ron shook his head. "Rook on 4H to 6H."
Dad winced as Ron smugly prodded his bishop forward. "Check."
"Damn."
"Language, Ginny," Dad said as he settled himself on the couch and propped open his book. Ron saw that it was on something called "Mechanics." "Let's hope they don't blow up the chicken coop again, shall we?"
Ron shrugged, and Ginny frowned at the board. After a moment she grinned and said "King and rook on 8A castle." The rook and the king switched places and this time it was Ron who was scowling.
The game continued another ten minutes before Ron finally cornered Ginny's king. "Check mate!"
"It's not fair," Ginny complained as the pieces reset themselves. "I want to be white this time!"
"Alright," Ron said good-naturedly. Beating Ginny at chess had put him in a good mood, so he was willing to go along with what she wanted now. "You get to go first, then."
Ginny scowled at him "I know how to play chess, Ron. Pawn on 2A to 4A."
Dear Ron,
I asked Eliza Quimbly about it, because she's the taking NEWT level potions, and she said she'd have to see the potion to make a guess, but from your description it didn't sound like anything she'd seen before. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, though; healers know what they're doing. I don't envy you for having to take it, though. All the potion's I've ever had (you know, the ones Mum makes us down every time we get sick) have tasted disgusting. Ah well, you'll live.
We won our match against Slytherin! We're in the running for sure now, although Ravenclaw's chasers are pretty good, so now I'm trying to find extra time between when dinner ends and Slytherin practices when we fit in an extra practice. Wouldn't it be exciting if we won the cup this year? Maybe you could come watch, and I could introduce you to Marylin Edwards – you know, our keeper.
I'm glad to hear Fred and George haven't blown anything else up yet, but I suppose it's only a matter of time. Those two are like fireworks just waiting to go off. I'd keep them out of your room, if I were you. Do me a favor and keep them out of mine and Bill's room, okay?
Your brother,
Charlie
Dear Charlie,
The potion's not to bad. It tastes like sour carrots. It's been a month, and Mrs. Bellaveu says it should be working by now, even though I'm still not sure what its supposed to be doing. It's making me confused. Sometimes I wake up with a tummy ache and most of the time my head's a bit foggy. I do feel better though. Mum says I'm not angry as much, but I think that's because I'm too confused to be angry. Am I a boy or a girl? I look like a girl, but I don't know. I'm confused.
Ronny