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The first indication that the wizarding world may be accepting of trans people was that her Hogwarts letter was addressed to Hermione Granger, not the god awful boy’s name that her mother had blessed her with at birth.
The problem, Hermione had thought, was not that she was a girl but that everybody else didn’t already believe so, and that was a problem she sought to correct the minute she realized it existed. She was as precocious as she was brave and was on no mission to hide that from her parents. From a young age, she had insisted that she had stories about princesses as well as dinosaurs and when she implored her parents for a wardrobe to match well they could only agree. Because while her parents were simply dentists, they were loving above all and when eight-year-old Hermione Granger sat them down at the kitchen table with a book on transgender children open, they had only the best intentions and took her to the gender specialist right away to see how quickly they could get her transition started.
So overall, Hermione thought, everything was quite alright on her end. But staring at the castle as the first years were making their way across the lake, she had no idea what the wizarding world had to think except for the meager piece of information that she already had.
“Dear Hermione Granger,”
Surely if they knew her chosen name, then there would be no problem regarding her gender presentation and subsequent acceptance. She didn’t want to lie, she was a bit nervous, for this was a boarding school, with actual dorms, and she had never even been to sleepaway camp before. Sharing a room with other girls was a bit nerve-wracking especially if nobody knew her secret. Her parents had told her that it was up to her if she came out at school but she had no clue whether she even wanted to.
She may be brilliant but she was only eleven years old.
And eleven-year-olds are often scared when faced with such a predicament. Her main hope was to find some friends, she thought, and after a semi-successful train ride with some boys on the train, she hoped she was on the right track.
The heavy creak of the doors pulled her out of her head as she realized that the castle was open at last and as she gazed at the place that would be her new home for the next couple of years she felt a sense of contentment and excitement. There was no adventure too daunting for Hermione Granger and no problem that did not have a solution.
Having the sorting hat peek inside her head was a bit unsettling, to say the least. Despite being constantly astounded and amazed by all the shows of magic all around her, her one secret sat in the back of her head constantly on the lookout. As she walked with the Gryffindor bunch to their tower she looked around the girls that she would be sharing a home with for the term. Not one to judge by appearances, she kept an open mind but one sentence from the prefect stopped her dead in her tracks.
“The stairs turn into a slide and set off an alarm if any boy tries to enter the girl’s dormitory.”
Hermione stopped in her tracks. Was the last four years of transitioning and going stealth going to be overturned by a staircase?!
How can she trust a set of stairs to make such a distinction? She knew the difference and surely whoever wrote her letter knew the difference but...but will magic be enough to keep her secret? She didn’t even know the magic behind the staircase. All the books she read spoke of how the castle had a magic of its own but… it was a very old building and maybe it also had very old ideas. She didn’t want to find out. Suddenly without warning her feet started moving her away from the group. Slipping out the door she started walking away. She didn’t even know where she was going but she was too scared to go back to the common room. What if everyone found out? What if this ends up being her first and last day here? Everything suddenly became too daunting for this one eleven-year-old girl.
“Ouch!”
Crashing into the floor, Hermione realized that she made such a noise and that she had, in her haste, walked into something or perhaps someone without realizing it.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”
Staring up at the formidable woman she took in her curious gaze and realized she didn’t look angry but concerned. She also didn’t seem to have a clue as to what was the issue.
“Are you hurt, child?” she inquired.
Hermione just kept staring, afraid she was going to get in trouble for being away from the rest.
“I’m Madam Pomfrey, the matron in the hospital wing, if you are hurt, dear, I can help you,” she said again with a cautious smile as if to not upset her further.
“No, I’m okay, thank you,” Hermione quickly jumped to her feet and moved to run back to the common room.
“Wait, what were you doing away from the rest of the group? It’s easy to get lost in this castle, especially as a first-year.”
“I…its just…stairs!” Hermione panicked and just blurted out the first thing on her mind.
But somehow Madam Pomfrey didn’t seem confused. It was as if she knew exactly what Hermione was thinking about. She collected herself with a no-nonsense nod and turned around, walking back to where she had just come from. “Come with me, it’s okay,” she said, beckoning Hermione to follow her.
Hermione quickened her footsteps, almost running to catch up with the matron almost afraid to find out what was going on. “Where are we going?” she asked with a timid look up at the woman. She seemed scary and Hermione wondered if she was taking her to the hospital wing to get checked out.
“Just now you’ll see, what’s your name, dear?” Madam Pomfrey dodged the question.
“Hermione Granger, ma’am.”
She felt a bit odd trailing behind the woman, in her robes that haven’t even changed colours yet, without even knowing where she was going. Like the only first-year who had run into trouble before her first day even ended. She felt her anxiety slowly rising and wondered if and how the woman even knew what she meant by her short ramble of words. However, she found herself at an abrupt stop in front of a door, stumbling to avoid running into the matron again.
A sharp knock on the door by Madam Pomfrey brought out Professor McGonagall, the same woman who came to her house and told her she was a witch, and who was now going to be her head of house for the next seven years.
“Poppy? What’s wrong, I thought-” her words were cut short as she caught the sight of Hermione standing off to the side.
“Miss Granger here was having some anxiety over the stairs,” she said calmly while giving Professor McGonagall a pointed look.
Professor McGonagall regarded her for a moment then took a purposeful breath and gave the same no-nonsense nod to the girl. Hermione wondered if one of them had learned it from the other. “Well then, come on in, child.”
Hermione followed into what seemed to be the woman’s office and sat down as the woman took her seat behind the desk.
She seemed to soften the minute she looked at the girl. Then in an unsuspecting move, she grabbed a jar of biscuits offering one to Hermione, who in her state of anxiety could only silently reach her hand out to grab one, hoping to hide the shakiness she felt.
Hermione glanced up, stealing another look at the woman who smiled softly and started to speak.
“In my last year of Hogwarts, I ran back into the empty Gryffindor tower alone and snuck up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories just to prove to myself and well, the world I suppose, that I was as every bit a woman as I felt. I was fully prepared to go sliding down but I was filled with spite and…a longing that I couldn’t let go of. As I reached the top, staircase still intact, I marched back down and knew with certainty that I was never going to let anyone tell me who I was ever again.”
Hermione sat there, mouth slightly open, hanging onto every word coming out of her professor’s mouth.
“You mean you’re…just like me?” she felt the knowledge sit deep within her and then gently spread outwards like a warmth enveloping her in safety.
“Hmm, I suppose you’re just like me , dear,” McGonagall answered with a playful smirk, glad that the girl understood. She’d been in this situation before, not always a first-year, not always a girl, but somehow Poppy Pomfrey had the tendency to sniff out any child questioning their gender within these halls. The matron had good knowledge of the student population and well, she knew what to look for. She was married to a transgender woman after all.
“But I don’t want you to base these understandings of yourself on outside influences. Whatever you feel is real enough, and that should be the only thing that matters,” she continued.
Hermione stared at her, hanging on to every word she spoke. It was exhilarating, yet comforting to find another person just like her, as accomplished and successful as she had always hoped to be. It seemed like the world was telling her, it’s okay, look! You have your entire future to look forward to, and it’s going to be okay.
More than okay , Hermione thought, I’m a witch! It’s going to be magical!
As she stepped into the portrait hole, giving one last goodbye to the professor, Hermione steeled herself with a breath and marched right over to the steps and kept going. As she climbed further and further up, she let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and felt herself sag with relief. She let out a giggle and ran up the last three steps, making her way to find whatever dorm she had been assigned. She really was going to be okay.
-
Minerva stood outside of the Fat Lady portrait, listening to the murmurs inside. The common room is usually calm on the first day given how tired the students are from the travel to Hogwarts. Most of the first years don’t know anybody as yet.
She hoped that Hermione would soon make friends, she noticed her speaking with Harry and Ron during the sorting.
She felt a small amount of pride for her son, Harry, to be making friends easily. She worried that his less than stellar couple of years with the Dursleys would bring back his anxiety over new people but he seemed to be faring well so far. Not to worry though, he had his fair share of aunts and uncles around the castle to look out for him, not to mention his two parents.
Minerva now felt a place in her heart growing for the young girl she just sent up to the dorms moments prior. She made a point not to play favourites with her students, and they knew her to be fair but strict. But somehow, Hermione reminded her of herself. She reasoned with herself that it shouldn’t be a problem looking out for her, as she did with all the students who needed an extra bit of comfort in her house.
A flash of one of them ran through her mind, Remus, who always enjoyed a cup of tea and a gentle hand. She shook her head at the memories that threatened to break through. Uncle Remus had his fair share of love in his life now, Harry made sure of it.
She made up her mind. She’ll invite the girl for tea on the weekend to see how she’s faring. Might even invite Harry as well, he was bound to show up at some point to celebrate the sorting.
She opened her office door once again and slipped into the hidden door at the back, this one leading to her rooms. Poppy sat inside on the tartan armchair, having either floo'd in from the Hospital Wing, or just missed them leaving a few minutes ago.
“How is she now, dear? She seemed quite anxious and riled up,” Poppy’s voice was filled with concern as she looked over.
“No matter how confident you are in your identity, there will always be a doubt in the back of your head that the world will not see you the same,” Minerva’s answer was soft and burdened, the weight of it all never fully finding it’s way off her shoulders.
“She will be alright for now, but I will keep an eye on her. It seems like she’s making friends with Harry so it shouldn’t be too hard,” she continued, making her way to the armchair to curl up in Poppy’s arms, thankful for the moment of reprieve.
She felt Poppy wrap her arms around her wordlessly and a soft kiss to her temple. There were no more words needed.