Work Text:
“Mister Potter, Mister Platt, please remain behind,” Professor Flitwick called as the members of the dueling club broke up and started heading for the doors.
At the diminutive professor’s beckoning gesture, Harry walked over with the Slytherin boy who had been his assigned partner for the session. With Flitwick in charge, the club was a thousand times better than last year’s attempt by Lockhart, especially since Snape didn’t feel the need to attend with ‘someone competent’ overseeing things. Better material, solid instruction, and strictly enforced behavior all contributed to making the club both fun and informative. And again, the lack of Snape helped immensely.
“When the two of you were practicing, I thought I saw something that…” Professor Flitwick paused and glanced at the doorway where Ron and Hermione waited. “If you could close the doors on your way out, please. Your friend can tell you about it afterwards, if he chooses.” Once the doors were closed, he turned back to the two boys. “As I was saying, I thought I saw something unusual. If you could please stand ten feet apart and take turns casting a tickling charm while the other shields, I’ll take a closer look.”
After watching the two trade spells for a minute, Flitwick frowned and told the boys to stop. “Yes, there is definitely an unusual interaction between your spells. Let me just take a look, if I may,” he asked as he pulled out his wand. At the boys’ nods, he cast a few spells and slowly nodded, himself. “I believe I know the cause, but I’d like to consult with the headmaster before saying anything. No worries, lads, it isn’t anything harmful. Come along, and let’s get this sorted.”
As the three wizards walked down the halls toward Dumbledore’s office, Harry eyed the other student. The slender boy with short dirty blond hair and brown eyes was a Slytherin in the same year, but unlike Malfoy and his cronies, he tended to be fairly quiet and didn’t seem to care about Harry one way or the other. Catching the subject of his thoughts curiously returning his gaze, he gave a little shrug before the two of them looked forward again, just in time to see someone walking down the hall toward their group.
“Filius, is there a problem?” Professor McGonagall asked with a raised eyebrow as she took in the two students he was escorting.
“Not at all, Minerva. I’m taking these two to the headmaster to get his opinion on a non-disciplinary matter. Hmm, it might actually be for the best if you come along, if you’re free, that is.”
“I am, and I shall,” nodded McGonagall as she joined the small party, and soon the lot of them were in the headmaster’s office, standing before Albus Dumbledore himself.
“Ah, to what do I owe the pleasure? Nothing unpleasant, I hope,” Dumbledore asked.
“Oh, not at all,” Flitwick assured him, “I noticed an unusual interaction between the two lads’ magic during dueling club and wanted to get your opinion.”
“Ah, a puzzle, then. How splendid―but where are my manners? Would anyone care for a lemon drop?” the headmaster asked, now that he knew the boys weren’t here to be disciplined. Smiling as Glen accepted his offer and popped a candy in his mouth, he turned and listened to Flitwick explain, his eyebrows rising as he heard the details. After receiving a brief demonstration from the boys themselves and casting a few spells, he sat back and stroked his beard in thought.
“How extraordinary,” remarked the headmaster as he conjured extra chairs, “and unexpected. Please, have a seat, everyone. I will have Madam Pomfrey verify, just to be sure, but Harry, Mis―Glen, from the reaction between your magic and the results of the spells I cast, it appears that the two of you are soulmates.”
“What?!” exclaimed Harry as he shot out of his seat. “I really don’t think that’s it!” He didn’t know exactly what a ‘soulmate’ was, but he was quite sure he wasn’t one with the barely known Slytherin boy.
“It seems extremely unlikely,” agreed Glen, whom Harry noticed had also stood up. “Especially since I’m not into boys.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Let me assure you that such bonds aren’t always quite as romantic as popular literature paints them. Soulmates are merely people who are so compatible that their very magic calls to each other’s. While romantic love is often the result, such closeness can also result in the closest of friendships or a brotherhood not based in blood. It truly is the greatest of gifts to have someone you can understand and trust so completely. And contrary to what’s stated in romance novels and certain magazines, a bond does not need to be sealed with a kiss―a hug will do just as well.”
Harry warily eyed Glen. Glen warily eyed him back. After a brief but silent exchange which amused Dumbledore greatly, Glen spoke. “Be that as it may… I don’t think Potter and I have spoken more than a dozen words outside class. Maybe we are ‘compatible’, but I’d rather get to know him the normal way than hug our way into some magical brotherhood.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “If we’re supposed to be so great together, we can find that out. Doing some magical hug instead just seems … weird.”
Dumbledore nodded. “I can understand how you feel; it does in some ways feel like starting a book in the middle, or jumping to the race for the snitch in a quidditch game, but there are additional considerations that make such a delay inadvisable in this case. Certain benefits come with a fully realized soul bond… in addition to the obvious one, when a bond is sealed, it will dispel all spells and external magical influences on the pair, and from then on, whenever the soulmates are not separated by great distance, it will afford significant protection from the same. I assume I do not need to explain how beneficial such a thing would be with Sirius Black on the loose and the dread guards of Azkaban lurking at our doorstep.”
As the two boys looked at each other uncertainly, Dumbledore held up a hand. “But any decision can wait until we have confirmation of your bond. We wouldn’t want to subject you to any unnecessary hugging, after all,” he assured the pair with a smile. With a wave of his hand, the door opened and Madam Pomfrey entered the office.
“Thank you for coming so promptly, Poppy. We have reason to believe Mister Potter and Mister Platt have an unsealed soul bond. If you would be so kind as to perform your own tests to either confirm or dispute or findings, we would be most appreciative.”
“Of course, Albus,” the school matron replied as she drew her wand and proceeded to cast spells at a nervous-looking Glen. After a few moments, she pursed her lips but continued casting at her fidgeting subject. “Well, overall health is good, and I do see signs of a soul bond, but I do have one question. Exactly when did you become a girl, Platt?”
Under the sudden weight of everyone’s eyes, Glen quietly coughed before replying, “Um… I can’t quite remember.”
“And would that be because you have always been one?” Pomfrey asked tartly.
Glen silently bowed her head and mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “Maybe…”
“This is outrageous!” snapped McGonagall, “Explain yourself at once, Platt!”
“It wasn’t anything I planned… Everyone on the train first year thought I was a boy. I would have said something, but I knew I was going to end up in Slytherin, and well, at first it was just me and some Slytherin girls in the compartment, and after five minutes of listening to them talk, I wanted to gouge my eyes out! Before I could try, a couple of boys came in, and thinking I was one of them, rescued me. They were so much more interesting! I figured once we were at school, people would find out I was a girl and I’d be back to eye gouging, so I wanted to enjoy it while it lasted and didn’t say anything.
“But no one ever did realize I was a girl. Not the students or the teachers! So, I just went along with it―and it’s been great! Okay, I realized that not all girls are like the ones on the train, but it’s been so much more fun as a boy.”
“That’s preposterous,” sputtered McGonagall. “Surely someone would have noticed you weren’t a boy in three years ! You share a communal bathroom, for Merlin’s sake!”
“Well, I don’t look very feminine,” Glen said with a shrug, “and I am very careful about changing. If anyone noticed, I said I was shy. But no one really did, because I put a lot of effort into learning the notice-me-not charm and mastered it near the end of first year.”
“Very impressive!” enthused Flitwick. “I did detect a spell on you to discourage attention and was going to ask about it, but to have managed it in your first year is almost unheard of!”
“Well, it did take almost all year, and I did have a few mishaps…” Glen deflected. “The worst was around Easter, when it went horribly wrong,” she added in a mumble.
Harry lost himself in thought for a moment. “Easter, first year… Wait, do you mean that weekend when no one could stop talking about Theodore Nott?!” At Glen’s furious blush, he burst out laughing.
“That’s ridiculous; it’s not even the proper name of an actual spell,” groaned McGonagall.
“Indeed,” agreed Dumbledore with a happy chuckle, “but it is a splendid example of the great power of names, including the names we only hold in our own minds.”
“I suppose,” sighed McGonagall before snapping, “Potter, get a hold of yourself!”
“Sorry, professor,” Harry said, finally getting his laughter under control. He turned to say something to Glen but suddenly paused, mouth already open, before recovering. “Wait, you’re a girl! Maybe this isn’t so bad, after all.”
“What part of I’m not into boys did you not understand, Potter?” Glen demanded with a glare.
“I daresay you’ll be changing your tune in a year or two,” McGonagall said with amusement.
“Oh, it’s just a phase, then?” Glen asked in a syrupy voice, “Do you think I’ll grow out of it before or after I stop fancying girls?”
Silence filled the room for a long moment as McGonagall had no answer to that. Until Harry sighed as Madam Pomfrey started casting spells on him, at any rate. After a few minutes, she put her wand away and nodded. “Mister Potter appears to be in good health and also has signs of an unsealed soul bond.”
“Thank you, Poppy,” Dumbledore said with a nod before turning to Glen. “At this point, if you wish, you may have your head of house present.”
Glen glanced at Harry. “I don’t think that would be particularly helpful in this case…” she slowly replied. “In fact, I honestly have enough to deal with right now without being the Boy-Who-Lived’s soulmate added on top of it. So, thank you, but I think I’m going to wait until after school to explore this—the difference of a few years shouldn’t matter if this soul bond is such a big deal.”
“Minerva, Filius, Poppy,” Dumbledore said in a solemn voice, “if you would excuse us for a few minutes, I need to speak privately with Harry and Glen.”
“Of course, Albus, will ten minutes suffice?” asked McGonagall. At the headmaster’s nod, the three left the room.
Dumbledore gazed at the two students for a long moment, and Harry couldn’t help but think that the normally cheerful man suddenly looked very old and very sad. “Miss Platt, I can understand your reasoning,” he solemnly said, “but in this case I must implore you to reconsider. Harry, I am afraid I must confess to withholding information pertaining to you. For that, I apologize, but please believe that it was only with the best intentions, for you see, I was unwilling to burden you with a most worrisome problem without also being able to offer you some hope of a solution.”
His mouth suddenly dry, Harry swallowed and asked, “What is it?”
Dumbledore slowly nodded. “For some time, I have suspected that your scar, the one Voldemort gave you with his killing curse, was more than it seemed. While many curse scars do retain a small amount of dark magic, yours seemed to contain much more than usual; in addition, it seemed to in some way link you to the one who inflicted it. I was unsure exactly what secrets it hid, but the events of last year were able to suggest new avenues of research, and I eventually came to a most chilling conclusion—I believe that within your scar lies an actual shard of Voldemort’s soul, inadvertently splintered through excessive dark rituals and countless murders. Trust me, Harry,” he implored, “that since that discovery, I have been assiduously searching for a way to remove this shard, in addition to minimizing any effect it may have on you until its removal.”
“A-and what have you found, sir?” asked a pale Harry.
“Until this very afternoon, nothing.”
“When you discovered something that could dispel all external magical influences...” Glen stated.
“Indeed.”
“What effects does the shard have?”
“I am not sure, but nothing good, I am certain. I do understand your hesitation to fully realize the bond between you, but please, Glen,” he implored, tears welling in his eyes, “I beg you to reconsider, lest irreparable harm occur from leaving the shard in place any longer than necessary.”
Glen turned her head to look at Harry, noting his pale face and troubled eyes. With a deep sigh, she sagged slightly and nodded. “All right.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Dumbledore breathed, reaching across his desk to clasp her hands in his trembling, wrinkled own, “thank you more than I can possibly say. I am in your debt,” he added before releasing her hands and sitting back and regaining his composure. “Now, would the two of you mind if Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey observe? Academic interest aside, it is best to be well prepared for the unexpected when dealing with anything belonging to Lord Voldemort.”
Harry and Glen exchanged glances before Harry shrugged. “Sure, why not? The more the merrier, right?” he remarked, trying for a carefree tone, unsuccessfully, going by the looks of sympathy he received.
“Splendid,” said the headmaster, as he conjured an elegant tea service and poured each of them a cup as they waited for the others to return. After a few minutes, he opened the door with a wave of his hand, and the three entered. “Wonderful news, young Harry and Glen have agreed to seal their bond.”
McGonagall nodded approvingly. “Good, I daresay that’s a very prudent decision, considering the current state of things. Smartly done, both of you.”
“They have also most generously agreed to allow all of us to observe and be on hand to assist in case they experience any difficulties. Is everyone ready? In that case, please proceed at your leisure, Harry, Glen.”
The two students stared at each other for a long moment. Harry swallowed. Glen glanced around the room. And then they both took a step forward and awkwardly embraced. After a moment, they both sighed softly and leaned forward, holding each other. Silver motes swirled around their feet, slowly spiraling up around their forms, many of them concentrated on Harry’s forehead, and for a moment the world seemed to hold its breath, before releasing it in contentment as the two slowly parted.
To the onlookers, both students seemed relaxed and at peace in a way they hadn’t been before. Their eyes were immediately drawn to Harry’s forehead, and to their wonderment, his infamous scar was completely absent. A longer look revealed more differences.
Harry slowly blinked, feeling better and more at ease than he ever had. But the world was strangely blurred. Feeling dazed, he reached up and removed his glasses, and everything became clear. He smiled as he looked around, then frowned in puzzlement as he realized he felt different in some way. He ran his hands down his body, trying to discover what was different, then froze, his eyes widening.
“I’m a girl!” Harry shrieked in a slightly higher voice than usual. “Why am I a girl?!”
“Maybe this soulmate business isn’t so bad after all,” Glen commented with a smirk.
Harry spared a moment to shoot a glare at Glen before turning to Dumbledore. “Why am I a girl?!”
The headmaster peered at her over his spectacles. “I must admit, my b—er, Harry, that I am at a loss. Allow me to see what I can discover.” He took out his wand and waved it in complex patterns several times. After a moment, he nodded. “I believe I can shed some light upon things.
“It seems that you were under the effects of an obscure spell that saw occasional use before becoming largely forgotten several centuries ago. When cast upon a child shortly after birth, it will change the sex of the child until dispelled, although a specific trigger can also be specified at the time of casting. By design, it is very difficult to detect.”
“What?! Why would it be cast on me?!”
“Please try to calm yourself, Potter,” McGonagall said not unsympathetically, “we understand this is a shock and we will sort things out, but upsetting yourself will not help.”
As Harry gave her a nod and tried to calm herself, Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought for a moment before speaking. “If I recall correctly, at the time of your birth, Harry, your great-grandfather Henry was the head of the Potter family, and while he was a good man and progressive in some ways, in others, he was very traditional, and under his leadership, a girl would not have been able to inherit the title of heir. I suspect that, given the danger of the times, your father believed that such a policy would put the Potter line itself at risk, and doubting he would be able to convince his grandfather, decided instead to pass you off as a boy so you could become the heir. As Henry passed away shortly before your parents did, I suspect they simply did not have the chance to remove the spell and announce your change of status before they met their untimely ends.”
As Harry stood there, trying to take in this revelation, Dumbledore softly added, “I assure you, Harry, that your parents had no desire to cause you distress or confusion and were only concerned about your future if the worst came to pass. I have no doubt that they always intended you to live your life in your birth form.”
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. “I… I understand. It’s just a lot, a lot to take in.”
“Well,” said McGonagall after giving Harry a moment to compose herself, “it looks like another change of accommodations is in order.”
“No!” exclaimed Harry, a look of panic in her eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“No, this… this is just too much,” Harry said, shaking her head. “All the stares, the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, all the fear, suspicion, and hatred last year… no, this is too much on top of it.”
Glen placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I agree. I would have left long before it got that far if it were me. I’m not going to switch to the girls’ dorm either.”
“You most certainly cannot remain where you are and pretend to be boys!” exclaimed McGonagall. “This is not negotiable!”
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Glen said, giving her shoulder a squeeze, “if they won't be reasonable, it'll be easy to make them decide they don’t want us here; we’ll just have to make sure not to do something that actually gets us expelled.”
“Reasonable?! This is absurd!”
“No,” replied Glen, still holding Harry, “it’s an opportunity. There’s no way Sirius Black will find Harry as a girl secretly attending a different school.”
Dumbledore hmmed thoughtfully. “I think Miss Platt may have the right of it. In fact, such a measure would be quite effective in hiding young Harry from others who seek to do her harm.”
“I-I don’t want to go back to Privet Drive, either. That’ll make it even harder for people to find me.”
“There’s no need to give up your family, my girl; there are extremely strong protections around your home.”
“They’re not my family. They, they hate me and have never accepted me. With this, it'd just...” Harry trailed off, unable to articulate exactly what sort of disaster would ensue.
“Then you won’t go there,” Glen soothed, putting her arm fully around the other girl and hugging her. “You can live with me. I’ll make sure my parents agree.”
Dumbledore hesitated, a troubled expression on his face, before nodding slightly. “Very well, Harry. If that is truly how you feel, I will not oppose this plan.” Upon seeing the girl sag in relief at his words, he knew he’d made the correct choice. Turning to the other girl, he offered, “If you need any assistance in convincing your parents, or explaining your tenure as a boy at Hogwarts, I place myself at your disposal.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Glen said with a smile as she gave Harry a reassuring squeeze, “there’s no way they’ll turn away my ‘soulmate’, and pretending to be a boy was obviously a result of my soulmate being under a spell that changed her sex.”
“Indeed,” agreed Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, as he privately mused that there might actually be some validity to that explanation. “Poppy, Filius, if you would escort our young friends to the guest rooms at the west end of the third floor, the way should be clear of curious eyes for the moment. Minerva and I will see to contacting Miss Platt’s parents and making the other necessary arrangements.”
*
Thirty minutes later, after another examination by Madam Pomfrey followed by an extremely embarrassing lesson on hygiene and personal care appropriate to her ‘new’ body, Harry leaned against a wall in the common room of the guest suite, closed her eyes, and exhaled deeply. She was still reeling from the events of the day, but the thought that kept running through her head was that she was free. Free of her unwanted fame and scrutiny, free of the Dursleys, free of people who hated her, not for who she was, but for what she represented. Leaving her few friends behind would hurt, but she’d come back for them someday, when she could, and the pain of separation was only a drop in the ocean of relief she felt.
Sensing a comforting presence in front of her, she opened her eyes to find herself face to face with Glen. She parted her lips to thank the other girl for all her help and support, but when Glen leaned forward, the words died in her throat. And then soft lips were touching her own and all was right in the world.