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Harry.
His name was Harry Potter. Harrison James Potter to be more precise.
Harrison after his mother’s father, a man he had never met, but whom his aunt Petunia loved with all her heart. If she was capable of loving anybody else then Dudley, of course. He heard so many stories about his grandad. Not directly, his aunt would never tell him anything. However, she would always talk to her son about how brave and amazing her father was. Harrison Evans was a soldier in both Great Wars. He met King George VI, and the Queen multiple times, and would be knighted if not for his sudden death. He survived wars but was defeated by a heart attack. Nevertheless, Harrison Evans was a hero, who saved many lives. Harry wanted to be like him. When he was younger, he planned to join the army. To serve his country and the Queen, and maybe, maybe one day to become a knight. He would prove to his family that he was worthy. Maybe then they would love him? But then his Hogwarts letter came, and everything changed.
James was after his father. A father whom he grew up to hate. Harry had dared to ask about his parents only once, at the tender age of five, driven by a longing to know more about the people he didn’t remember. He never made that mistake again. Aunt Petunia, with her pinched expression and tightly drawn lips, was furious at Harry’s question. She spat out her words, each one laced with venom and disdain, ‘How dare you! Your father was nothing but a worthless drunk, Harry. He killed himself and your freakish mother in a car accident, leaving you as the burden that we have to bear. If it weren’t for that accident, we would have lived a normal life!’ At that moment, his innocent admiration for his father transformed into a deep well of hatred. Little did he know that his aunt lied to him.
Hagrid, the half-giant who delivered his letter, informed him that his father was murdered. That he was an honourable and brave man. During his visit to the Diagon Alley, he learned more about his father. His father who wasn’t a drunk driver. He used to be a Hit Wizard, before the death of Fleamont Potter, Harry’s grandfather, forced him to take over as the head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. James Potter was a war hero. A man Harry was proud to call his father. The day Harry found out the truth about his father, he has sworn to honour him. He would become the best wizard he could, and one day he would renew his family name to the previous glory. That was his new plan.
After a long month filled with independent studies and waiting, the day arrived when Harry stood at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The platform was a bustling scene, filled with families saying tearful goodbyes and students eager to reunite with friends. A bittersweet longing tugged at his heart. He couldn’t help but think about his own parents. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned their smiles, their loving embrace, and the warmth that would have radiated from their presence. What would they think about him now? Would they accept him for who he truly was? Would they call him their son with love and pride, or would their voices be filled with disappointment and disapproval? How different would his life be if they were still alive?
Mixed emotions swirled within Harry’s mind as he thought about the conversations they would have to have. Part of him desperately wanted to believe that his parents would love him unconditionally, embracing him as his truest version. He clung to the hope that they would be proud of him for having the courage to be his true self. Just as they had been brave in their own lives. He wished he could confide in them, seek their guidance, and feel their unconditional love. As his thoughts delved deeper, a sudden wave of anxiety washed over him. It was fuelled by the lingering echoes of Aunt Petunia’s lies. What if they would have disapproved of him? What if they would hate him? With a heavy sigh, Harry shook his head. It didn’t matter anymore. James and Lily Potter were forever lost to him. They were dead, and nothing could change it. Not to mention… they loved him enough to protect him from the dark wizard, so-called Lord Voldemort, who tried to murder Harry when he was a child. It had to be enough. As the boy stepped onto the train and found an empty compartment, he vowed to prove to himself that he was worthy of their love.
As the train chugged along, Harry gazed out of the window, watching the landscapes blur past. The whispers of doubt echoed in Harry’s mind as he thought about Hogwarts. How would other students react to him? He had read books about himself, books that claimed to tell his story. All of them seemed to be filled with nonsense, exaggerations, and distortions. Some authors were going as far, as to claim that he was Ravenclaw or Le Fay’s reincarnation, as it was the only possible explanation for how a year-old baby managed to defeat the Dark Lord. The truth, however, was far more complex.
For years, Harry would dream about flashes from that fateful night, etched into his memory like scars. He thought that they were just nightmares, but knowledge of how his parents actually died made him realise the true nature of those dreams. He remembered a green light illuminating the darkness, accompanied by a woman’s voice, begging for his life. The chilling sound of a cruel laugh that sent shivers down his spine. A man’s voice, a voice he now knew belonged to his father, asking his mother, to run and save herself and Harry. These memories painted a different picture than the one presented in the books. His parents were the true heroes, not him. It was his mother’s selfless act that had stopped Voldemort that night, not some mysterious prophecy or a stroke of luck. Harry knew it, even though he didn’t have a way to prove it.
As the train approached its destination, Harry’s thoughts turned to the sorting, and another worry came to his mind. What if it was all just a dream, a figment of his imagination? What if he would wake up in the cramped cupboard under the stairs, with his aunt shouting at him? Or worse, what if they decided during the sorting that he didn’t possess enough magical ability to be worthy of Hogwarts? He shook his head and took a few deep breaths.
‘It’s going to be okay, Harry, everything is going to be okay,’ he whispered to himself.
He couldn’t control how the sorting would go, but he could control how he faced it. He survived ten years of living with his so-called family. There were not many things that could be worse than the Dursleys. A mischievous thought crossed his mind, ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘if this is all just a dream, at least it’s a dream with a lot fewer chores and a lot more magic. I think I can get used to that.’ With a determined glint in his eyes, Harry stepped off the train and into the world that awaited him.
The first years have been separated from the other students and asked to follow Hagrid to the lake where gigantic boats, bobbing gently on the water’s surface were waiting for them. Harry took a deep breath, savouring the crisp air tinged with a hint of magic, and couldn’t help but smile. He could feel a thrill of excitement coursing through his veins. As he settled in the boat, he glanced around and saw his fellow first-year students joining him in the boat, their expressions mirroring a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Some were whispering in hushed voices, while others wore wide-eyed expressions, taking in the surroundings with a sense of wonder.
As the boat glided across the lake, Harry couldn’t help but notice three other children who had taken a seat nearby. A blond-haired boy, Draco Malfoy, whom he met during his first trip to Diagon Alley, a bushy-haired girl, Harry didn’t know her name, and a black-haired boy, whose eyes caught Harry’s attention. They reminded him of the night sky.
‘I wonder which house I’ll end up in. Gryffindor, maybe? Or perhaps Ravenclaw? Oh, I hope it’s Ravenclaw. I’ve always loved learning and reading,’ said the girl after a moment of silence.
Malfoy scoffed at her words, rolling his eyes, ‘Gryffindor? Really? Let me guess, you’re a muggleborn, aren’t you?’
The girl’s eyes narrowed, and she straightened her posture, ready to defend herself. ‘And what if I am? Muggleborns can be just as talented and capable as anyone else. Blood doesn’t determine one’s worth or potential.’
Malfoy sneered, clearly unimpressed by her response, ‘Oh, please. You’re just lucky to be here at all. My father said Hogwarts should be reserved for those with true magical heritage, and I agree with him. It’s a shame they allow mudbloods like you to dilute the purity of our world. They shouldn’t let your kind in.
The black-haired boy decided to interrupt him, ‘Draco, that’s enough. Leave her alone, I don’t think your father would appreciate you getting a detention before you managed to get sorted.’ He looked at the girl and said softly, ‘I do apologise for his behaviour, he’s not used to socialising with other children our age, miss…?’
‘Hermione. I’m Hermione Granger,’ she whispered.
The boy nodded understandingly, his calm demeanour contrasting with Draco’s arrogance. ‘Nice to meet you, Miss Granger. I’m Theodore Nott, and this here is Draco Malfoy, as I’m sure you’ve gathered,’ he said and shot Draco a pointed look.
Malfoy crossed his arms, still wearing a smug expression. ‘Well, Granger, it seems you’ve made quite an impression on Nott here. But mark my words, once the school starts everyone will see through it. Your kind does not belong here.’
Harry, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, felt a surge of anger bubbling in him at Malfoy’s derogatory comments. It reminded him of Dudley and his gang, mocking him for being different. He clenched his fists, trying his best to stop himself from punching the blond git. Getting into trouble wouldn’t make his parents proud. The trio ignored him, which he was happy about. He wasn’t ready to talk to others.
The boat continued its gentle glide across the lake, the moon casting shimmering reflections on the water’s surface. Despite the tension in the conversation, Harry couldn’t help but be captivated by the enchanting scenery surrounding them. The castle loomed ahead, illuminated by warm, golden lights that flickered through the windows. With the castle standing tall in front of them, its intricate architecture and towering spires stretching toward the night sky, Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. It was even more magnificent up close than he had imagined. This was the place where he would embark on a new chapter of his life. As the doors of Hogwarts opened before him, revealing the magnificent interior of the castle, his heart swelled with awe and anticipation. It was a sight he would remember forever.
A few minutes later, Harry found himself in the Great Hall, standing among his fellow first years, all huddled together, their eyes wide with wonder as they took in the magical surroundings. Some whispered to each other, exchanging speculations about the sorting and the houses they might be sorted into. Others nervously adjusted their robes, their fingers fidgeting with anticipation.
The sorting hat sat perched on a stool at the front of the room, its tattered brim contemplating the destiny of each student. Harry watched as one by one, their names were called, and they nervously approached the stool. The hat would be placed on their heads, and after a moment or two, it would shout their house. Harry took a deep breath. What if the hat didn’t find him worthy? What if he ended up in the same house with Malfoy? Harry seriously doubted he would be able to stop himself from punching the prejudiced git for long. He would get into so many troubles…
The girl from the boat, Hermione Granger got sorted into Gryffindor. She walked towards their table with a smile of relief on her face. Theodore Nott, the calm and composed boy, was sorted into Slytherin, eliciting a mixture of reactions from the students. Draco Malfoy, his sneering expression replaced with an arrogant grin, joined the Slytherin table with an air of entitlement. As more names were called, Harry felt a mix of excitement and nervousness building within him. It had to be almost his turn. Patil, Parvati, and then…
‘Potter,’ Professor McGonagall started calling his name, but then she stopped and looked down at the list in front of her, confusion clear on her face. The Great Hall fell into an eerie silence as everyone’s attention turned to her. Harry’s heart raced, and a wave of terror washed over him. What was happening? Why had McGonagall stopped?
The tension in the air was palpable as McGonagall glanced up from the list and met Dumbledore’s gaze. She wordlessly handed him the parchment, her brows furrowed with bewilderment. Dumbledore’s expression mirrored her confusion as he scanned the names on the list. He cleared his throat, his voice projected across the Great Hall.
‘It seems there has been a mix-up with the names on the list,’ Dumbledore announced, his tone filled with a hint of uncertainty. The students exchanged puzzled glances, whispers of confusion filling the air. Dumbledore turned his attention to the group of remaining first years before him, his eyes stopped on Harry. ‘Miss Potter, please step forward for your sorting,’ he said, his voice carrying a weight of authority.
Pain seared through Harry as he heard the words. Miss Potter. Of course, they would call him a miss. Why on Earth would he assume that anything would be different in the wizarding world? It was a reminder of the pain and isolation he had endured throughout his childhood. He felt a mix of humiliation and frustration, but he knew he had to do as he was told. Every eye in the Great Hall was on him as he tentatively stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the whispers coming from the students behind him.
‘Potter, he said?’
‘It’s her!’
‘Wow, her hair is really short, I thought she was a boy for a moment.’
‘Merlin’s beard how could there be a mix-up with her name?! Everybody knows it!’
As Harry reached the stool, he could sense the collective anticipation in the room. A moment later, Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head, and he heard a whisper, ‘Ah, a peculiar circumstance we find ourselves in, indeed, but fear not, young Potter. Your true identity will be revealed in due time. Let us see where your heart truly lies. Hmm, a curious mind, a thirst for knowledge, and a courageous spirit tempered by years of hardship. You have great potential, Harrison.’
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. The hat addressed him by his name. His true name. A surge of happiness washed over him, overwhelming the pain Dumbledore’s words brought. It was a moment of recognition, a validation of who he was. He was Harrison James Potter, the magic hat recognised that.
‘A mind full of curiosity, a hunger for knowledge. Where shall we place you, Mister Potter?’ the hat asked.
‘I... I don’t know,’ Harry thought back, his voice filled with uncertainty. ‘I just want to find where I belong. I want to make my parents proud and honour their sacrifice. I want to be the best wizard I can become,’ he added.
‘I see…’ the hat paused for a moment. ‘Your parents, James and Lily, I remember them,’ it said. ‘They were a challenge to sort as well. James, with his cleverness and wit, could have thrived in Ravenclaw. And Lily, oh, her kindness and intelligence would have graced Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.’ Harry’s heart swelled with a mix of emotions. ‘But,’ the hat continued, ‘their courage, their unyielding bravery, led them both to Gryffindor. It was their choices and the sacrifices they made that defined their destiny.’
A flicker of understanding crossed Harry’s mind as he thought about his parents. The hat’s words resonated with him, and he replied, ‘I want to be brave like them. I want to make a difference. No. I will make a difference. I’m going to make them proud, no matter what,’ he added.
The hat’s voice exuded warmth and understanding, ‘Indeed, young Harrison. Your journey has already been marked by hardship and resilience. Your determination shines through. Very well, I believe I have found the house that will embrace your spirit.’
A moment of suspense hung in the air before the Hat shouted, ‘Better be… Gryffindor!’
The Great Hall erupted in applause, and Harry removed the hat. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, before making his way to the Gryffindor table.
The rest of the sorting was uneventful. The feast commenced in a grand display of magical abundance. Tables groaned under the weight of delectable dishes, adorned with golden plates and goblets shimmering with enchantment. As the students began to celebrate, Harry found himself overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the Great Hall. Laughter, chatter, and the clinking of cutlery filled the air, but he felt a pang of isolation within the crowd. Harry tried to keep to himself, avoiding direct interactions with others as much as possible. Every now and then, someone would approach him, addressing him as ‘Miss Potter’, or by his other name. He clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to correct them, unsure of how they would react.
At the Gryffindor table, the chatter among the students continued, oblivious to Harry’s inner struggle. A boy named Ron Weasley, leaned across the table, engaging Hermione Granger in a passionate discussion about magical chess. Nearby, Neville Longbottom was trying to explain how it was possible that his family had five different greenhouses, while Seamus Finnegan regaled Dean Thomas with stories of his family. Harry listened to their conversations, a longing stirring within him. He wanted to join in, but the fear of being exposed was too big. Instead, he observed quietly, his mind swirling with both admiration and pain. He didn’t feel very brave at that moment.
As the feast drew to a close, Dumbledore rose from his seat and made an announcement, instructing the prefects to lead the first-year students to their respective common rooms. Harry followed the Gryffindor prefect, Percy Weasley. The castle, lit by the warm glow of torchlight, seemed both magnificent and daunting. Harry’s footsteps echoed against the stone walls as he walked in silence, surrounded by his peers. Occasionally, he caught snippets of their conversations.
‘I can’t wait for our first flying lesson! I hope I don’t fall off my broom.’
‘Do you think there are secret passages in this castle? We should explore!’
Upon reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, Percy recited the password, ‘Dragonis’, and the portrait swung open to reveal the cosy common room of Gryffindor.
The Gryffindor common room welcomed Harry with its warm, inviting atmosphere. The crackling fire in the hearth cast flickering shadows across the room, and plush armchairs and sofas beckoned students to relax and unwind. The walls were adorned with crimson and gold tapestries, proudly displaying the lion emblem of Gryffindor, and shelves lined with books offered a haven for those seeking knowledge and adventure.
As the first-year students entered the common room, the female Gryffindor prefect, a blond-haired girl named Alicia Wood, gathered the girls together for a brief orientation. Harry, unfortunately, had to join them. Alicia’s voice carried with authority and friendliness as she addressed the group in front of her, ‘Alright, girls, gather around! Welcome to Gryffindor! My name is Alicia, and I’ll be your perfect. If you have any problems, you can always ask me or the other prefects, you’ll meet them tomorrow. Now, I have a few things to tell you, so pay close attention!’
The girls leaned in, listening intently as Alicia explained the details. She gestured towards the grand staircase leading to the dormitories, cautioning them with a mischievous smile, ‘Now, this staircase is a little bit special. You see, if any boy tries to step on it, it magically turns into a slide! It’s a little trick to keep the dormitories for the girls only. Be careful not to forget and not to try to sneak a boy in, or you might find yourself sliding back down!’
A chorus of giggles erupted among the girls. Meanwhile, Harry’s heart sank. He felt a deep sense of unease and discomfort, knowing that he would be forced to sleep in the same room as the girls. It just felt… wrong. Like an intrusion into their space. He felt like an imposter. Harry wasn’t a girl. He was a boy. No matter what others thought about him. He knew he was a boy since he was four. Nothing would change it. Unfortunately, others didn’t know that, and he wasn’t ready to have this conversation. So, despite feeling awful about it, he followed the girls towards the staircase. He was determined to blend in and keep his secret hidden. At least till he would feel more comfortable and safer.
By the time Harry reached the fifth step, a sudden alarm sounded, and the staircase trembled beneath him. In an instant, the steps transformed into a slick slide, sending him tumbling down to the floor. This caused gasps and startled exclamations from the students in the common room.
Someone called out, ‘Quick! Someone get Professor McGonagall!’
Embarrassed, Harry picked himself up from the floor, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes upon him. His face was red. He wished he could disappear. Now everybody knew his secret. Everybody knew that he was a freak. One by one tears fell from his face. As Harry stood there, tears streaming down his face, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the concerned faces of older Gryffindor girls surrounding him. They offered him sympathetic smiles and reached out to comfort him.
‘What happened? Are you alright?’ one of the girls asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.
Harry tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t find the strength to explain what had happened, instead, he shook his head, his tears falling freely.
‘It’s okay, don’t worry,’ another girl reassured him, her voice gentle and soothing. ‘You’re safe here. We’ll figure out what happened. You don’t have to be scared.’
Harry’s whole body trembled as fear consumed him. The realisation that his secret might be exposed overwhelmed him. ‘They know,’ he thought. ’Oh god, they know.’ The thought of being seen as a freak made his heart race. His breath came in shallow gasps. Panic began to take hold, and Harry felt a tightening in his chest. He couldn’t stop the flood of tears that streamed down his face. He felt trapped. Cornered by the expectations and judgments of others. The voices of his classmates and their innocent chatter about classes and adventures faded into the background. All Harry could hear was the loud pounding of his own heart. His mind spun with a whirlwind of thoughts and worries. What if they sent him away? What if they didn’t understand? What if they rejected him? These questions consumed his every thought.
The common room fell into a hushed silence, the students staring in shock and concern at the scene unfolding before them. Their whispers and glances only fuelled Harry’s fear, reinforcing his belief that he was an anomaly. An outsider. He didn’t belong. More girls gathered around him, offering their support through hugs and pats on the back. They formed a protective circle around him, understanding that he needed their comfort more than he needed their questions.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence as Professor McGonagall swiftly made her way through the common room. Her stern expression softened momentarily as she took in the sight of Harry.
‘Miss Potter, what happened?’ she asked, her voice tinged with worry. ‘Are you hurt?’
But Harry was unable to respond. The panic had robbed him of his voice. The students in the common room exchanged uneasy glances. Someone spoke up, “Professor, there was an incident with the stairs, and... Potter ended up falling.’
Professor McGonagall’s gaze shifted from the concerned faces of the students to Harry, who stood before her, visibly shaken and tears still streaming down his face. Something didn’t add up, and she sensed there was more to this situation than met the eye. ‘Miss Potter, why don’t you come with me to my office? We can talk there,’ McGonagall suggested gently, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern. Harry nodded, his voice still trapped within him. As they made their way out of the common room, the older Gryffindor girls exchanged worried glances.
They walked in silence. Harry was too terrified to say anything. Was that it? Would McGonagall expel him for being a freak? He tried his best not to cry. He didn’t need any more attention. Once they arrived at the office, McGonagall motioned for Harry to take a seat and settled down behind her desk, her gaze fixed on him with a blend of sternness and compassion.
‘Miss Potter, I want to understand what happened back there. Can you tell me what brought on your distress?’ her tone was soft.
Harry’s trembling hands clutched the edge of the chair, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor as he gathered his courage. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his secret, his true identity, press heavily on his chest.
‘Don’t call me that… please,’ he finally whispered.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Harry’s voice was barely audible, but there was a determined intensity in his eyes as he met Professor McGonagall’s gaze, ‘I’m not a miss, Professor. My name is Harrison James Potter, and I’m a boy.’
Understanding dawned upon Professor McGonagall’s face, and she nodded, a mix of respect and empathy.
‘Thank you for sharing that with me, Mister Potter. And I must apologise for not addressing you correctly before. Thank you for correcting me. Your identity and your chosen name deserve to be acknowledged and respected. That definitely explains some things,’ she added.
As the weight of those words settled upon Harry, a profound sense of relief washed over him. McGonagall believed him. She accepted him for who he truly was. At that moment, Harry felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness that had surrounded him. Could it be possible that everything would be fine? That he could live authentically without fear of rejection or judgment? The thought filled him with a mix of excitement and hope. He dared to imagine a future where he could be himself, where he could be accepted and embraced by those around him. It was a fragile hope, but one that would give him the strength to carry on.
‘What do you mean, Professor?’ he asked, curious about her last words.
McGonagall leaned forward, her eyes filled with both remorse and determination, ‘Mister Potter, I’m afraid I must apologise again. You see, during the sorting ceremony, your name was recorded as ‘Potter, Harrison James,’ which deviates from the name that the wizarding world has known and celebrated. This unexpected variation led me to pause and consult with Headmaster Dumbledore to ensure we were not overlooking something significant. Unfortunately, we both assumed, instead of talking to you about it, that it was some sort of prank. I am deeply sorry about it, my boy’ She paused, collecting her thoughts before continuing, “It became clear that the magic within the castle recognizes you as a boy, Harrison. It acknowledges your true identity, regardless of what others may think. You can rest assured, Harrison, I am committed to doing everything within my power to support you. Hogwarts is meant to be a place where all students can thrive and be themselves. We will work together to ensure your safety, well-being, and acceptance within our community.’
The weight that had burdened Harry’s shoulders began to lift, replaced by a warmth spreading through his chest. The tears that had threatened to consume him now transformed into tears of relief and joy. For the first time in a long while, Harry felt seen and heard. The prospect of being accepted for who he was, seemed more achievable than ever before. With McGonagall’s support, he felt ready to face others as Harrison James Potter, the boy he truly was.
‘Thank you, Professor,’ Harry said, his voice filled with gratitude. ‘I appreciate your understanding and support. I’m ready to face whatever comes next, as long as I can be true to myself.’
McGonagall offered a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with encouragement, ‘You remind me of your father, Harrison. Although you have your mother’s eyes. Now, it’s getting late. Tomorrow, we’ll meet and discuss our next steps. For now, let’s get you to bed. For tonight, you’re going to stay in the guest room of my apartment. It’s going to give us time, to explain to other students and staff, that you’re going to live in boys’ dorms and the reason behind it. Remember, you have my full support, Mister Potter.’
Harry smiled back, ‘Thank you, Professor.’
Everything was going to be alright.