Chapter Text
Stephanie Mallow lazed under a tree, reading a comic book. It was one of her favorites, about the time Batman accidentally took out the entire League when someone stole his failsafes. She’d read it a dozen times, but it was certainly better than running around like mad in the already scorching June heat, whatever Mum might say. And, in response to her parent’s frequent exhortations to get more exercise, she always looked down at her skinny frame and grinned, saying “What, you want me to float away?”
So, while she had to be outside, there was nothing that said she couldn’t sit quietly, far away from the other children.
“Trevor!”
Stephanie winced.
“Trevor, come inside, there someone to see you!”
“What’s my name again, mum?” she called out.
“Whatever your name is this week, you’d best get the body attached to it in this house !”
That was unfair. She’d been Stephanie for over a year now.
“I’m counting! Ten! Nine! Eight!”
Right. Best get on with it. Choose your battles and all that.
She speed walked into the house, arriving as her mother called out, “Two!”
“There you are. Sit.”
Stephanie sat down, giving her mother her best attempt at a withering glare. Given her cherubic features, it was mildly more threatening than being glared at by a dishrag, but only just.
“This is Mr.- sorry, Professor Neville Longbottom.”
Stephanie turned to look at the man and momentarily forgot to be angry at her mother. The man sitting on the couch was without any doubt the worst dressed person she’d ever seen. He wore violently yellow corduroy pants, wing tipped blue shoes, a paisley leisure jacket, a bright red shirt, a string tie, and a cowboy hat. And the hat was purple.
“Pleasure to meet you?”
He gave her a friendly nod, and she grinned a little. Despite his ridiculous clothes, he had a self assured, friendly demeanor, though he seemed slightly distracted. She had a sudden vision of him making a grocery list out loud as he got dressed, and then wandering out of the house without encountering a mirror.
“Now, I’m a little shaky on this, but would you mind running through that again?”
“I’m from Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he began.
Stephanie blinked. “From what?”
The professor blinked back, apparently not accustomed to being interrupted. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s a wizard school.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Right...like stage magic, or something?”
Longbottom sighed. He reached into his offensive coat and pulled out a slim stick. “Brace yourself. Wingardium Leviosa .”
Stephanie yelped as she found herself suddenly hovering three feet above the couch.
“Or something,” he said with a small smile. Longbottom gestured with his stick and she floated back down.
He waited a moment, and then winked. “Your mouth’s hanging open.”
She closed it.
“Now, to get right to it, you’re a wizard. A muggleborn; that is, a magical child of non-magical parents. How would you like to learn to do magic?”
Stephanie turned and stared at her mother. Mum chuckled. “Should have seen my face when he levitated the coffee table.”
“I...uh...yeah. Yeah, that’d be brilliant!”
Longbottom nodded, eyes twinkling. He tapped a parcel of papers on the coffee table. “Everything’s in here, including supply lists and where to get them, as well as how to get there and such. We’d appreciate it if you kept this quiet. We have rules about who can know these things.”
Stephanie nodded, mouth dry. A thought occurred to her, and she hesitated. “Uh. Mum...can we...I mean...it’s a private school…”
Mum chuckled. “It’s tuition free, and the supplies are well within our budget if we’re careful.”
Stephanie grinned. “Can I?”
“Yes, sweetie, you can.”
Stephanie leapt off the couch and danced around wildly for a minute.
Longbottom stood up, straightening his jacket. He stuck out his hand to her and smiled. “I look forward to seeing you come September, Trevor.”
“Stephanie,” she corrected without thinking, as she took his hand. They both froze and she heard Mum sigh.
“That’s...an unusual name for a boy,” Longbottom said, head cocked to one side.
“I’m...umm...I’m not…” Her voice grew smaller as Mum buried her face in her hands and Longbottom continued to stare at her in polite interest. “I’mnotaboy.”
“Oh. Huh. Odd for the records to have made an error like that.”
Her face flamed. “Noooo...more like God made an error.”
Longbottom frowned. “What...oh! Oh, ah...I see. Ahhh...um...You’ll need to talk to the Headmistress about that then. I’ll try and get it set up. Expect an owl.”
He gave her hand another firm shake, and started for the door. Mum hurried to show him out. Stephanie sank onto the couch and covered her face. Lovely. “Hey, there’s magic and we’d like to teach you! Oh, excellent, let me just pack up my hell and take it with me to a school filled with people who can hurt me from across the room in secret, using skills I didn’t know existed until five minutes ago,” she muttered into her hands.
“Incidentally,” came Longbottom’s voice.
She looked, fighting off the sniffles, to see him poking his head around the corner.
“That would make you a witch, not a wizard,” he said.
“What?”
“Boys are wizards, girls are witches. So you’d be a witch.”
He gave her a reassuring nod, and then vanished around the corner, leaving her with a sudden warmth in her chest.
“I’m a witch,” she whispered. And then she started giggling and couldn’t stop.
Mum came around the corner a moment later and sat down next to her, waiting for her to calm down. When she’d finally gotten through the worst of the giggles, Mum pulled her into a hug.
“Well, it looks like you’re going to have to live with it,” she said with a sigh.
Stephanie swallowed down an angry retort, warmth turning to ashes on her tongue.
“Mum…”
“I know, I know...Stephanie, is it, then?”
She blinked. “Um, yeah.”
“Like gran?”
She nodded. Her throat felt close for an entirely different reason. Her mum had never actually used her chosen name. Her real name. Not in the year she’d had it.
“Well, you could have chosen something worse, I suppose. I thought you were going to stick with Starshine for a worrying time there.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “I was five, mum.”
“You were eight.”
“No, that was Tiffany. And Druella. And Jynx.”
Mum chuckled. “How long have you been Stephanie?”
“All my life,” she whispered. “It just took me a bit to get the name right.”
Mum pulled back, and Stephanie was startled to see she was crying. She stared at her for a moment, and then pulled her into a crushing hug. “Anyone so much as looks at you funny, you call me and Uncle Evan will be right round to give them a sound thrashing, you understand?”
Stephanie thought of the various bullies she’d dealt with when her unusual choices of names came out, and shivered. “Mum?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Why now?”
Mum jerked. “I...I was hoping you’d grow out of it. The world isn’t a very nice place for bo...girls who are different.”
Stephanie snorted. “Think I’ve found that one already, mum.”
Mum sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t...I just want you to be safe.”
Stephanie pulled back gently. “But...why now?”
“The way you introduced yourself to that man. It was reflex, just...so matter of fact. And I figure, if you can be thrown into an entirely different world and still be...you, without thinking, then it’s not likely to change by wishing.”
Stephanie flicked her on the forehead, lightly. “Only been telling you since I was three, mum.”
Mum gave her a wry grin. “Don’t get sassy with me, little ma-little miss. Or I won’t take you for kebobs to celebrate.”
Stephanie grinned and formed a halo over her head with her hands.
“That’s better. Just let me wash up, and we’ll be going.”
~~~~~~~
It hadn’t been all sunshine and roses the last few weeks. Stephanie had caught Mum crying quietly more than once, staring at school pictures, or folding laundry. And she’d used her wrong name a handful of times without meaning to, which was actually much worse, she discovered, after hearing the right one. But they’d soldiered on together, Mum doing her best to make the switch, and Stephanie not calling her out on her mistakes unless she didn’t notice, which was rare. One bright spot had been when Mum had got a bonus from work and had surprised her by taking her clothes shopping. It was thrift shop wear, and she actually preferred jeans to be honest, but the few skirts she bought, she wore in rotation for a two weeks straight, just for the joy of wearing them.
Frankly, she almost didn’t care if the whole witch thing had been some sort of elaborate prank, as she began to suspect as the weeks went by. Mum had let her read the letter, and hidden streets that were only accessible through invisible taverns struck her as a good way of sending people on wild goose chases.
And that was when the owl appeared.
Stephanie was sitting on the front porch reading when the big bird landed beside her, startling her into a shriek. The bird blinked at her in a vaguely offended manner and spat out a large envelope.
“Is...is that for me?”
The owl hooted, and hopped to the end of the bench, before staring at her quizzically.
Stephanie picked up the letter with trembling hands, and turned it over. It read,
Ms. E. Mallow
10 Goodwood Cl
Newcastle upon Tyne
Tyne and Wear
It was handwritten in a small, neat script in luminous green ink. Stephanie swallowed and turned the letter over again, to find an actual wax seal holding it closed.
“Mum! You’ve got a letter from the school!”
She darted into the house. “Mum, you got-” Mum held up a hand, and turned back to her computer. She worked from home doing technical writing, and she was currently absorbed in some esoteric bit of software. Stephanie stood bouncing impatiently beside her mother while she waited for her to finish what she was doing on the computer.
Mum sat back, stretched, and turned to her with a grin. “Now, what?”
She thrust the letter out. “You’ve got a letter from the school!”
Mum looked at it over her reading glasses, and then took it gingerly. “They don’t do things by halves,” she said softly, turning it over and spotting the thick wax seal. She fetched a letter opener off her desk and slit the envelope open before pulling out the letter inside it. Stephanie shot round behind her to read over her shoulder, drawing her an amused look from her mum, who held the letter to her chest.
“It’s not polite to read over shoulders, Stephy.”
Stephanie grinned. “ Muuuuuuum …”
“Fine. Just this once.” She unfolded the letter and they read together:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
Ms. Mallow,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has been brought to my attention by one of my professors, Professor Longbottom, that your daughter has been mislabelled as a son for certain reasons of a physical nature. I would like to meet to discuss what accommodations can be made to correct this oversight, insofar as it is possible to be corrected administratively.
If it is convenient, I should like to meet with you on 17 July at 2 p.m. at the Leaky Cauldron.
I await your owl.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
“Hmm...that’s the day after tomorrow. And it’ll mean a trip to London.” Mum tapped the letter thoughtfully as Stephanie vibrated gently in place. “Well, we need to pick up your school supplies sometime, and I think we’ve saved enough. Alright, then.” Mum frowned. “Where am I supposed to find an owl?”
Stephanie frowned. “One mo.”
She ran back out onto the front porch, and sure enough, the owl was still sitting there. She glanced around. “Well, come inside, then. Can’t have the neighbors asking about you.”
The owl leapt into the air and she let out a startled squeak as it settled on her shoulder, claws grazing her skin lightly. She took a deep breath and headed back inside.
Mum stared at the ball of feathers and talons sitting on her shoulder. “The owl. Waited.”
“Apparently.”
Mum rubbed the bridge of her nose. “That’s actually a bit more startling than watching you float in the air, somehow. Think it’s rude to send a printed message?”
“I...why would it be?”
“Good point.”
Mum turned back to the computer and dashed off a quick message. After a moment’s thought, she switched the font to a curly handwriting style that had lots of loops and whorls. She printed it, stuck it in an envelope, and addressed it to Headmistress McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She held it out to the owl, who accepted it, and then took off.
~~~~~~
Stephanie stood nervously on the sidewalk, hunting for where they were supposed to go. The directions had been good, but neither she nor Mum had any head for directions, and the GPS had laughed at them when they’d put in the address.
She was dressed up for the occasion, wearing what she hoped was appropriate clothes for meeting the Headmistress of a magical school. A short, pleated navy skirt, a white shirt, a little denim jacket (which she was starting to regret in the heat) and her new favorite shoes, a pair of white and black Mary Janes topped by socks that exploded into little ruffles of lace around her ankles. She felt feminine, pretty, and an absolute wreck as the time for their meeting crept closer without any sign of the bloody place.
Mum looked up from her map, frustration evident on her face. “I think we’re going about this wrong.”
“Mum?” Stephanie frowned quizzically.
“It says it should be around here. Right here, in fact.”
“I know, Mum. Maybe it was all a joke after all.”
“No...didn’t the letter say that unmagical people couldn’t see it?”
Stephanie blinked. “Yeah…”
Mum grinned and thwapped herself on the forehead. “Sweetie, do Mummy a favor and start at that end of the street,” she pointed, “and describe every business you see one at a time.”
Stephanie blinked. “Um...flower shop, coffee shop, clothes shop, restaurant...wait…” She frowned and counted them off again, and realized she was skipping one. She stared at it for a moment, and it just appeared, like a steno image popping into focus when you got your eyes just right.
“Found it!”
Mum laughed. “Good. Now take my hand and get us there, because I still have no idea where it is.”
Stephanie led Mum across the street and into the building.. As they walked up to it, Mum made an uncomfortable sound in her throat as they walked in the door, and then stumbled back against the lintel. “Jesus!”
Stephanie jumped. “What?”
“From my perspective, we just walked through a wall.”
It finally clicked. “Because you’re not magical…”
“Right. Now, where-”
A somewhat ugly man stepped around the bar, squinting at them. “You’d be the student and lady here to see Professor McGonagall, then?”
Mum tried not to stare. “Yes.”
“Follow me, please.”
He led them up a flight of stairs to a small room, and opened the door. They stepped in to find a pair of chairs, a desk, and a woman sitting behind the desk. She was old, but she sat up straight and proper, and her robes were a flowing emerald green. She radiated poise, from the tight bun atop her head, to the squared off spectacles on the tip of her nose, to her hands folded primly on the desk in front of her.
“Thank you, Tom. You may go.”
The man bowed and stepped back out the door, closing it behind him, leaving them with a woman who looked every inch the witch.
She stood and made her way around the desk, seeming to glide across the floor. “Good afternoon. I’m Minerva McGonagall.”
Mum shook her hand. “Ellie Mallow. And this is Stephanie.”
Stephanie took a deep breath and sketched a curtsey, having looked it up online and spent a few hours practising.
Professor McGonagall’s eyebrow twitched. “You have excellent manners, young lady. Please,” she said, waving to the chairs in front of the desk, “sit. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, thanks,” Mum said. Stephanie managed a nod. The witch sat, produced a wand, as Stephanie learned they were called, and flicked it at the tea tray sitting next to the desk. Stephanie barely managed to keep her eyes in her head as the tea served itself, and the cups floated over to rest on the desk in front of them.
“Now then,” McGonagall said, sitting back with her teacup. “I understand that we have a somewhat delicate situation.”
Stephanie hesitated, and then quietly said, “Pardon, miss, but can’t you just…” she made a flicking gesture with her hand, like a wand waving.
McGonagall winced. “Not...well, no. I’m very sorry if that’s what you’ve thought, but there’s not a simple way to remedy this.”
“Oh.”
Mum tapped the rim of her saucer quietly for a moment. “Is there a way at all?”
McGonagall sighed. “My deepest apologies if you’ve been mislead, but I had hoped to discuss ways of managing the situation. The magics that could repair it aren’t complete, nor lasting, nor should they be used on a child without a great deal of care.”
Stephanie’s eyes burned. “Oh,” she whispered in a small voice.
The witch shifted uncomfortably. “There are certain steps that can be taken to alleviate it, however,” she said carefully.
Mum raised her hand. “I understand it’s not what you came to discuss, but…” She glanced at Stephanie’s crumpled face.
McGonagall nodded and set down her tea. “Very well. It’s not my area of expertise, you understand. What you want is a Healer.”
Mum nodded back.
“There are certain potions, I understand, that can effect the change for a limited period of time. I believe, though I may be mistaken, that they can be used with some frequency with no ill effects by adults. I’m uncertain how they would affect a child, however. There is also combinations of spells and potions that may be used to achieve cosmetic changes, although,” she cleared her throat, “the actual, physical sex isn’t affected.”
Stephanie sank lower into her chair. “So I can only look like a girl, not actually be one.”
McGonagall winced. “Again, I simply don’t know enough to give you a complete answer. A Healer may have options to offer you that I don’t. But...without the supervision of a skilled Healer, yes. That is my understanding.”
Stephanie closed her eyes, fighting down the tears pricking at them. “Um...may I be excused for a moment, please?”
McGonagall nodded, her face gentle and tinged with sadness. “Of course, my dear. I’ll just step into the hall.”
She managed to hold it together until she heard the door close, and then collapsed into a heap of wracking sobs. Mum knelt down next to her and held her close as she cried, unable to stop. So close! She thought it would be...well she hadn’t let herself really think about it, but...somehow, she’d come to the belief that she would walk out of this meeting a girl, for real and true. To find out that it might not even be possible with magic!
After twenty minutes, she settled down into hiccuping and Mum gave her a gentle squeeze. “Are you ok to go on?”
Stephanie nodded, sniffling.
Mum gave her a searching look. “Only if you’re sure.”
She managed a small smile. “It’s...it’s not the end of the world. I can still learn magic. And...there’s always the, um, not magic way.”
Mum twitched. She’d been doing her research over the last month, and she’d privately hoped for a magical solution as well. Hormones and surgery were not what she wanted for her daughter, but if that’s what it took…
She ruffled her hair and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to go and bring her back now, ok?”
Stephanie gave her a thumbs up and a weak smile. As Mum turned to fetch the professor, she reached forward and scooped up her tea with shaky hands. She took a bracing gulp of the thankfully strong stuff, and tried her best to look composed.
McGonagall came back in and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the woman’s piercing eyes for a moment, transfixed. The professor gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help, my dear.” She reached into her robe and pulled out a rolled up parchment. “I know it isn’t what you hoped for, but this is a list of Healers that have taken cases like yours in the past. They’re discreet, skilled, and with any luck, they’ll be able to give you a better idea of what you can try.”
Mum accepted the scroll with a nod of thanks.
McGonagall leaned on her desk, a pensive look on her face. “I’m equally sorry, but there’s a number of things we do need to discuss, at least one of them unpleasant.”
Stephanie took another bracing gulp of tea, and set her cup down, clenching her hands in her lap. “I...I’m ready.”
The witch gave her a searching look, and then gave a brisk nod. “First, I need to be clear: using magic on yourself is often dangerous, especially to change your form. It’s called transfiguration, and you will learn how. But!”
Stephanie realized where this was going, and nodded. “I’m not to try it.”
McGonagall nodded. “Please understand, it’s for your safety. If you are ever tempted, speak to a professor. Better yet, speak to Madam Pomfrey, or her assistant, Madam Hinze. They are both skilled Healers, and if you’ve truly stumbled on a way to safely accomplish it, they’ll be able to judge it best.”
“Second, there are, as I’ve already mentioned, potions that can temporarily effect the change.”
“And I’m not to use them, either,” Stephanie said, a slightly hysterical hiccup escaping her.
“No, you may use them under supervision of a Healer, if you so choose, if your mother consents, and if it is deemed safe,” McGonagall said with a smile. Her smile vanished as she leaned forward. “You are not to attempt to brew them, not even if a Healer will not give you permission to use them. Especially if a Healer will not give you permission. Potions are tricky, and the last thing you want to do is accidentally poison yourself.”
Stephanie nodded, stomach churning. Two months ago, she would have agreed that accidentally poisoning herself sounded terrible. Now...
Mum caught the look on her face and grabbed her chin, turning her face to look into her eyes. “ No , young lady. If I find out you’re making your own medicine, I will pull you out of school. Understood?”
Stephanie nodded miserably.
McGonagall hesitated, and then sighed. “Now, a dose of good news with the bad.”
Stephanie managed a small smile. “That was the bad?”
“No, but I thought you could use some good news to cushion it,” the professor said, with a small smile.
She shivered. The bad news must be pretty terrible.
“There are a number of potions, perfectly safe, that you can use for cosmetic effect. For instance, if you wished to grow out or color your hair, you could. There are a number of perfectly safe charms and talismans that can mask your...unwanted anatomy, if you so choose. It’s a bit unusual for a child to use a Glamour like that, but it’s not harmful by any means. With a bit of preparation, there’s no reason for anyone to ever discover that you are anything more or less than an ordinary, biological girl.”
She hesitated. “Would I…?”
McGonagall smiled. “Only by touch, and even then, there are particularly powerful, though expensive, charms that could hide it even then. To your own eyes, you would appear outwardly as you choose to.”
Stephanie fought the urge to hyperventilate. It wasn’t perfect, but...she never had to see it again! She could look in the mirror naked without wanting to scream! She could look...normal!
Mum put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Would you mind telling us where we can get them?”
“I’ve taken the liberty of writing it down on that parchment I passed you earlier,” McGonagall said with a small smile.
“Thank you,” Mum said, her tone loaded with emotion.
McGonagall nodded. “Now...the unpleasant news.”
Stephanie held up a hand, grabbed her teacup, and drained it. “Ok. I’m ready.”
The witch’s smile turned bitter. “No, but…” She reached into her robe and pulled out a small locket, dangling from a silver chain. “You will need to wear this, essentially at all times. You won’t need it all the time, but it’s best that you don’t take it off so that you don’t forget or misplace it. If it’s damaged or lost...come find me or Madam Pomfrey, or Madam Hinze immediately and request another. If it’s misplaced while you are in your dorm, send someone for one of us.”
Stephanie took the glittering locket like it was a bomb. She didn’t want to...she had to know. “Why?” she whispered.
McGonagall looked pained. “Because there are certain spells on the girl’s dorms meant to discourage fraternizing.”
Mum jerked as though slapped.
“No…”
“I’m afraid so. The talisman is fool proof, however. You’re not the first exceptional young lady we’ve had.”
Stephanie felt like her head was filled with sand. “Spells against what?” She looked from one to the other, trying to figure out what they were saying. “Mum, what’s she saying?”
Mum took a shuddering breath. “Tell me there’s another way. She can’t wear that. She can’t . It will...professor, please!”
“I’m sorry,” McGonagall said softly. “There’s simply no other way.”
“Mum?” she whispered, stomach starting to twist.
Mum turned to look at her hopelessly. “I don’t suppose you’ll just take it on faith?”
Stephanie stared at her, swallowed, and said, “Please tell me.”
“The...Stephy...it’s…” Mum stuttered to a halt.
McGonagall reached out and placed a hand on Mum’s shoulder. “Allow me, please. You’re the one that has to help her with it.”
Mum nodded helplessly.
“Stephanie...the girls dorms are spelled to not admit boys. That locket will bypass the spell so you can enter the dorms.”
Stephanie stared at her for a full minute, then flung the locket across the room, scrabbling back away from it. “ No! No, no, no, I’m not...but I’m not...no!”
Mum reached for her and Stephanie jerked back. “Mum, tell her! I don’t need it, I’m a girl! I’m a girl!”
McGonagall knelt down, startling Stephanie, who was in full panic attack mode by this time. “And you’re a lovely girl,” she said softly, voice thick with Scots brogue, heavy with pain. “Wearing the locket is just like wearing a key. It opens a lock, nothing more.”
“But I’m a girl,” she whispered, shaking.
McGonagall sighed. “I know. But the spells...the spells are quite single minded. They don’t see you as Stephanie. They can’t see who you are . They only see...they only see the error of your birth.”
Stephanie let out a sharp laugh, filled with pain. “So in order to be a girl, I have to wear a thing around my neck that says I’m a boy!?”
McGonagall opened her mouth, and then looked at Mum.
Mum swallowed. “No, sweetie, it’s...it says you’re a girl. It tells the spells that you’re a girl, so they don’t make a mistake.”
Stephanie shuddered. “W-what h-happens i-if I don’t w-wear it?”
McGonagall twitched. “That depends on the dorm. In one, the stairs will turn into a slide and dump you back down. In another, a wall of force will repel you. In another, the hallway will turn back on itself, never letting you reach the dorms. And in the last, an iron gate will come down, preventing you from passing.”
Stephanie stared at her in horror. “And everyone will see.”
The professor nodded.
A horrible thought struck her. “That’s why I have to send someone if I lose it in the dorm! They’ll...I’ll...I’ll be thrown out if I try to leave…”
McGonagall winced, but nodded again.
Stephanie swallowed a sob.
McGonagall stood, leaving the shaking girl to her mother, and retrieved the locket. “I’m so very, very sorry, Stephanie,” she said in a soft tone. “But there simply isn’t another way.”
Stephanie shied away from the poisonous thing. Boy , it taunted her. Just a confused little boy .
Mum touched her arm. “Stephy...you can always go to a normal school.”
For one wild moment she considered it. Anything not to wear a stupid brand around her neck, constantly reminding her that the school itself wouldn’t believe her. Then she sniffed and closed her eyes.
“No, I...I’ll...I’ll manage.”
Mum stroked her hair. “Are you sure, love?”
Stephanie grinned weakly. “No. But I’ll hate myself if I give up on bloody magic school over a stupid necklace.” She glanced at McGonagall and then studied the floor. “And...I can always...always come home and go to public school if I can’t handle it.”
Professor McGonagall touched her shoulder. “If you truly want to, yes, you can. No one will force you to do anything, my dear.”
Stephanie took a shuddering breath and held out her hand. McGonagall set the charm in it and Stephanie fought the urge to throw it again. Hands shaking, she tried to put it on. She ended up staring at it loathingly, unable to get it over her head.
“You don’t have to-”
“I’d rather get all my panic attacks out of the way before school starts,” she bit out. She winced and held it out to her mother. “Sorry. Mum, would you?”
“Stephy…” Mum breathed.
“I can’t...I can’t get it on. And I have to. Please, Mum?”
A gentle hand intercepted the pendant. She looked up to see McGonagall holding it. “I believe it would hurt your mother, my dear, almost as much as it would hurt you. Are you sure you wish to…?”
Stephanie shuddered. “No. But I have to get used to the awful thing sometime.”
“Brave girl. I’ve...I’ve had to help more than one young lady put one of these on. May I?”
Stephanie nodded jerkily. Even knowing it was coming, even knowing logically that she needed to begin learning to wear the thing sooner rather than later, she still shied away slightly when McGonagall brought it close to her. But she forced herself to sit still, closed her eyes, and breathed through her nose as it settled over her head and around her neck. It was a light little thing, and aside from the unaccustomed weight of a necklace, she barely felt it. She opened her eyes and blew out a shaky breath. “That’s...not so bad.”
McGonagall made a pained sound. “No, but...it has to touch your skin, dear.”
Stephanie’s skin crawled. She gripped the arms of her chair convulsively, raised her hands, lowered them, lifted them unsteadily to her collar and tugged it open. Then she sat there for a few minutes, breathing harshly.
“Help,” she whispered.
McGonagall looked at Mum, and Mum closed her eyes and nodded. The elderly witch gathered up the locket and gently dropped it into the girl’s shirt. At the feeling of the cold, accusing metal against her skin, Stephanie jerked. She sat in the chair, breathing slowly for a few minutes more. “I’m…” she swallowed and tried again. “I’m ok. It’s just a necklace. It’s...I’m...I’m ok.”
She opened her eyes and McGonagall smiled. “Brave, brave girl,” she murmured. “I think that’s the fastest anyone has managed to get themselves to wear it.”
Stephanie gave her a ghost of a smile.
“Now, I have a bit of a tradition after one of these meetings, and I hope you’ll indulge me.”
Stephanie nodded mechanically. Mum shot her a worried glance. “That depends. I’d meant to take her shopping for her school supplies, but…”
McGonagall smiled. “There is a lovely ice cream shop in Diagon Alley. It is my firm belief that a hot fudge sundae prepared by a master creamer is an excellent restorative for a young lady that’s just had a load of bad news all at once. My treat.”
Stephanie giggled without thinking and Mum let out a breath. She shot the professor a look filled with gratitude. “I think that would be perfect.”
One hot fudge sundae, and quite a bit of staring about at all the wonderful sights and sounds, later Stephanie was feeling almost herself again. Mum and Professor McGonagall had talked, mostly answering questions about the magical world that Mum had, while Stephanie devoured a truly astonishing confection. If someone had asked her right at that moment who her god was, the answer would have been, “whoever made this sundae.” She didn’t even feel guilty about it, because while Mum had insisted on ordering a simple lemon ice, Professor McGonagall had ordered a sundae every bit as elaborate as her own, and cleaned her bowl with no small amount of relish.
McGonagall winked at her over their clean bowls. “Remarkably restorative,” she murmured, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, before nodding at Stephanie with a grin. “Wipe your face, dear.”
Stephanie blushed and obeyed, wiping her mouth clean with a napkin. McGonagall stood, and smoothed out her robes. “Now, then. I must return to my duties at the school, but first, I shall endeavor to render you one last service.”
Mum and Stephanie stood and followed her into the street. She led the way through the crowd to a tall marble building that looked astonishingly out of place. While the other shops weren’t exactly ugly, they were a far cry from the soaring architecture the building displayed.
“Gringotts Wizard Bank,” McGonagall declared.
Mum nodded. “That’s where we change money, right?”
“Correct. However, the first time can be...startling. Goblins aren’t the most...comfortable of creatures to associate with.”
Mum stared at her. “Goblins.”
“Yes. I understand how you may want to, but please don’t stare at them. It makes them cross.”
Mum opened her mouth, closed it, and made an “after you” gesture.
The inside of the bank was just as rich and beautiful as as the outside. But sitting at tall ledgers, lining the path up to the counters, were the smallest, ugliest little beings Stephanie had ever seen. She did her best not to stare, particularly when she realized they were all wearing banker’s suits that looked ridiculously out of place, but it was a near thing. With the professor’s help, the exchange went smoothly, and they escaped with only a few disdainful sneers when their gazes lingered for a second too long.
Outside the bank, Mum shook her head ruefully. “Thank you, Professor. I’d have make a mess of that.”
McGonagall smiled. “As I said, the first time is often startling. Now, before I go, I wish to add two further things.”
Stephanie’s heart stuttered. “Not-”
“No, my dear, the worst news I can give you is behind you,” McGonagall said with a soft smile.
Stephanie heaved a sigh of relief.
“The first thing is that Madam Hinze has been trained in certain Muggle techniques, counseling I believe it’s called, that often have a salutory effect on the spirits. She came to us in a difficult time, and we’ve found her so indispensable that many Healers are choosing to venture into the Muggle world to learn these skills. Should you find yourself low, or in a bad way, or simply need a sympathetic and private ear, please seek her out.”
Stephanie nodded.
“The second is that I strongly suggest that you seek out a supper club known as the Purple League. The password at the start of term this year will be ‘hippogriff in flight.’ Should you choose not to seek them out in your first month, Madam Hinze is their sponsor and can offer you the password at any time.”
“Umm...why would I want to join…?”
McGonagall smiled wider. “I think you’ll find that they have much in common with you.”
Stephanie stared and then her face lit up. “You mean they’re like me?”
“Yes, dear,” the witch said. “Now, I’ll leave you to your shopping. I look forward to seeing you at school, Ms. Mallow.”
Stephanie grinned, and managed another curtsey.
The professor chuckled, shook Mum’s hand one more time, and headed off into the crowd.
Mum took a deep breath and gave Stephanie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Up for it?”
Stephanie nodded. “After...after that, I think I could use a little magic.”
So they hit the bookstore and Stephanie had to be repeatedly pulled away from books that she itched to open. The stopped at the potion shop, and Stephanie and Mum spent thirty minutes goggling at the various ingredients and esoteric tools on sale, before forcing themselves to move on. The robe shop was a bit of a sticky point. The proprietress wanted Stephanie to disrobe so she could get clean measurements. Stephanie started to hyperventilate until Mum flatly put her foot down. The woman grumblingly settled for having Stephanie take off her jacket, before producing a lovely set of robes that Stephanie ached to try on.
Then next stop on the list was the wand shop. Stephanie took a deep breath and slipped in behind mum, staring around at the shelves and shelves of slim little boxes. A pale man with luminous eyes stepped out of the shadows, startling Stephanie.
“Hello?” Mum said. “We’re here to get my daughter a wand.”
The man nodded. “Very good, very good,” he murmured. “Let’s see, shall we?”
Stephanie jumped when a tiny tape measure began flitting about her, taking the oddest measurements. It vanished a moment later.
The next twenty minutes were the most confusing of Stephanie’s life. The man would no sooner hand her a wand, muttering strange things the entire time, than he would snatch it back out of her hands. Wand after wand was presented and discarded, and she had no earthly clue what he was looking for.
Suddenly he slapped a wand into her hand, announcing, “Ebony, unicorn, flexible, 10 and one quarter inches.”
Golden sparks shot from the tip, making Stephanie yelp in surprise and delight.
“Excellent,” the man said, a satisfied smile on his face. “A most excellent wand for Charms, Transfiguration, and Healing magics, my dear. Treat it well, and it will treat you well.”
Mum paid for the wand, and they stepped back outside, both of them staring at it in wonder.
“Stephanie.”
“Mum?”
“You can do magic! ”
Stephanie giggled. “It was just...it just happened!”
Mum grinned. “Come on.”
Stephanie frowned. “That was the entire list, Mum.”
Mum fished around in her pocket and pulled out the roll of parchment the professor had given them. “I thought we might look at those charms.”
Stephanie nodded so hard she thought her head might fall off.
The charms shop was tucked away between an animal shop and a small boutique. It had a reserved, friendly atmosphere when they stepped in, but Stephanie was slightly disappointed. It looked like nothing so much as a jewelry shop, and the items on display ranged from gaudy to refined. It was nothing like what she’d expected.
A small, plump woman came forward to greet them with a smile. “I’m Esme. Welcome to my shop. How can I help you today?”
Mum cleared her throat. “We...that is, my daughter...”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Look, we need some things, and we need it to be secret.”
Esme looked affronted. “I would never gossip about my customers.”
Stephanie blushed. “Sorry. I, um, was born wrong.”
Esme gave her a searching look. “How so?”
Stephanie coughed. “I was born a boy.”
Esme smiled. “Ahh. That’s a fairly easy one, actually, though it can be somewhat expensive if you chose to attempt a more thorough approach.”
“So we’ve been told,” Mum admitted. “How expensive are we talking?”
“For a full glamour that hides everything, even to touch, it runs about 300 galleons.”
Mum did some quick mental arithmetic. Then she did some slower mental arithemtic. Then she pulled out a sheet of paper she’d written down the conversion rates on and did the arithmetic with a pen, and blanched. “That’s…” she swallowed. “I’m sorry, Stephy, but we can’t afford that. It’s nearly a thousand pounds!”
Stephanie’s jaw dropped. “No...no we can’t.”
Esme smiled sympathetically. “What sort of price range are you thinking?”
Mum swallowed, looked down at her figures, and managed a weak smile. “Under forty?”
“Oh, that’s no problem at all!” Esme said with a laugh. “I take it it’s something you wish to hold up for a while?”
“Yes, please,” Mum said fervently.
“Well, I can do you a purely visual one, tied to a bracelet or necklace, for 20. It’ll last about three years, although I wouldn’t really trust it past two. It won’t change your appearance entirely, mind, but it’ll cover up the bits that need covering.”
Mum closed her eyes, ran the numbers, and broke out into a smile. “That will do nicely.”
The other woman waved a hand at the displays. “Why don’t you pick something out and we’ll get it made up for you.”
Stephanie browsed the displays for a while, seeking something she could stand to wear for two years. She finally settled on a slim silvery watch that had the phases of the moon as well as the normal time.
“A watch, Stephy?”
She pointed at the band. “It’s got multiple holes. I can grow into it if I need to. And a watch is useful, so no one will wonder why I wear it.”
Mum laughed and ruffled her hair. “Good thinking.”
The shopkeeper nodded and draped it around Stephanie’s wrist. “I agree. And, it looks lovely on you. Now, just leave your address, and I’ll send it to you by owl in a week.”
Stephanie wilted a little. “Oh. I thought…”
Esme smiled understandingly. “I’m sorry my dear, but it takes time to make these things. Enchantments are finicky business, particularly glamours.”
Stephanie nodded. “Right. Sorry.”
Esme shook her head. “No, I understand. May I ask a number of delicate questions? With the understanding that I mean no offense?”
Mum looked down at Stephanie. Her voice was a little cold, and deeply cautious as she asked, “What sort of questions? My daughter has had a very trying day.”
Esme nodded. “Let me preface the first by saying that you are lovely, my dear, and I wouldn’t have guessed if you hadn’t told me. Are you pleased with the way you look?”
Stephanie twitched. “I...I want to grow my hair out,” she admitted. She hadn’t discussed it with Mum, because the short, near high and tight on her head was a product of her mother’s previous unwillingness to see her as a girl. “I think my face is ok, and I won’t need to pretend to have…” she cupped her flat chest meaningfully, “for a couple more years.”
Esme nodded again. “May I suggest Elora’s Coiffure, just down the street? They’re incredible at growing and styling hair. And,” she hurried to add, “quite reasonably priced. For children, they only charges 5 Galleons per foot of hair grown, and another 2 to style it.”
Stephanie stared at her. “They can grow my hair out?”
“Within minutes.”
Mum smiled. “I think that sounds lovely. You had another question?”
“Two more. First, have you considered piercing your ears? I can do it for a single Galleon, and it will only hurt a moment.”
Stephanie shivered. “Mum? Could I?”
Mum sighed. “I’d really hoped that wouldn’t come up. But...just her ears? Normal piercings?”
Esme grinned. “I would suggest a professional piercer if you wanted more than that. I only know the basic spell, you see.”
“Oh, all right.”
Stephanie jumped and squealed, throwing her arms around her mother. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Esme reached under the counter and pulled out a small tray of tiny studs. “Let’s find something you like. Or a few somethings,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, “since these are only six sickles a pair.”
Mum held up a hand, and checked her money notes. “Do you happen to know how much an owl is?”
“A small one, with cage, should run you about ten, fifteen galleons, I should think. Admittedly, a very small one, but as long as you don’t want it to carry parcels, it should be fine.”
Mum smiled. “You can pick out three to start.”
Stephanie squealed again and spun to stare at them, face only inches away from the case. She knew immediately what she wanted for her first pair, spying a pair of studs that had an emerald-like stone the size of a large pea in the center. They twinkled and sparkled wonderfully.
“Um, are you sure those don’t cost more?” she asked hesitantly, pointing at them.
“Those? Of course not, dear, why…” Several things that had been said came together in her head all at once, and Esme grinned. “Are you muggleborn, dear?”
Stephanie blushed and nodded.
Esme winked. “So am I. Nothing to be ashamed of, I just wondered why you would think glimmerglass would be expensive.”
“Oh. Um, I’m...it’s not bad, though? Right?”
Esme reached up and pulled her hair back, revealing huge, gaudy earrings covered in blue glimmerglass. “I was smitten with it myself, the first time I saw it. Never got over it. It’s cheap, and others will know it’s cheap, but if that doesn’t bother you, I say love it all you like.”
Stephanie grinned. “Then I’d like them, please. And,” her gaze flickered over the display, “the owls, and...um...do you have diamond colored glimmerglass?”
Esme glanced at Mum, and lowered her voice. “Can you keep a secret?”
Stephanie nodded.
Esme reached under the counter and pulled out a tray of glimmerglass earrings. Stephanie’s eyes shot wide as she reached for it reflexively, hunger in her gaze. Some of them looked like little flames, some of them looked like droplets of water, some of them looked like soap bubbles. And sitting in the center was a pair of milk white earrings that glowed and flashed pink as Esme moved the tray.
Mum stared over her shoulder, and whispered, “Holy shit. This is the cheap stuff?”
Esme laughed. “They’re considered gaudy, if you can believe it. I only keep this tray for true glimmerglass aficionados.”
Stephanie grinned. “Thank you! But...where are the diamond ones?”
Esme pointed at the soap bubbles. “That’s as close as you’re going to find on this tray, unfortunately. Diamond coloring is almost impossible to get right, so diamond glimmerglass does cost a pretty galleon.”
“Oh. Well, I’d like those,” she said, pointing to the flames, and then pointed to the pink pearls, “and those. And, um, never mind the owls.”
Mum coughed and pointed at a pair that looked like shimmering oil slicks. “Think I could get away with those in the non magical world?”
Esme nodded. “I don’t see why not.”
“Then I’ll take those for myself,” she said, giving Stephanie a mischievous smile. “No point in you hogging all the cool stuff for yourself.”
Stephanie laughed.
“And...let’s go ahead and see the diamond. We can’t have it, but I’m dead curious now.”
Esme pulled their selections off the tray and set them aside, before reaching under the counter. She paused and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because it’s going to put a real diamond to shame. You may not be able to help yourself.”
Mum laughed. “I think we’ll be ok.”
Esme chuckled, and pulled out a single box. She tipped back the lid and they both gasped. Sitting in a field of black velvet were two gems the size of pencil erasers that burned like ice on fire. The air around them twinkled and shimmered with the slightest movement, tiny rainbows twinkling and snapping. But more than diamonds, they had depth and heft, and Stephanie found herself reaching for them unconsciously, just to see if they produced heat.
Mum swallowed. “I was wrong. Put them away before I throw money at you.”
Esme laughed and tucked the box away. “I’ve had people claim to hate glimmerglass and then nearly gnaw their arm off to get at those.”
“I can see why!”
“Now, young lady,” Esme said with a grin. “Which pair would you like first?”
Stephanie stood vacillating for a moment before pointing at her first choice. “Those, please.”
Esme waved her wand and a stool appeared. Stephanie hopped up on it as the woman came around the counter. “Now, deep breath and hold your Mum’s hand.”
Stephanie obeyed. She felt the tip of a wand touch her ear, which grew warm. Esme’s hand gripped her ear, and a moment later there was a sharp burst of pain. She yelped and squeezed Mum’s hand tightly, then blew out a breath of relief when the wand tapped her ear again and the pain vanished. A quick repeat on the other side, and Stephanie’s ears were officially pierced.
Mum took her chin in hand and turned her face back and forth. “You look lovely, sweetheart.” She looked at Esme. “What does she need to do to take care of them?”
Esme laughed. “Not a thing. Pierced and healed all in one go.”
Mum looked annoyed. “Well, wish I’d been able to get my ears pierced that way.”
“You should have seen the look on my mother’s face. Hers were done with sewing needles and silk.”
Stephanie shuddered. “Um, you had one more question?”
Esme nodded as Mum counted out the money for their purchases, and pulled her business card out of her purse so Esme would have their address. “Have you found a Healer?”
Mum shook her head, handing over the pile of coins. “We have a list of recommendations, though.”
“May I see it?”
Mum frowned, but pulled out the roll of parchment. Esme unrolled it, glanced down the list, and then pointed at a name. “Her.”
“Why,” Mum took the list and glanced at it, “Erzebet Hepida?”
“Because she makes house calls,” Esme said with a grin.
Stephanie licked her lips and asked, “Um...how do you…?”
Esme shook her head. “I never gossip about my customers.”
Mum nodded. “All right. Thanks for all your help.”
Esme smiled. “No problem. An owl will be by with the charm in a week!”
They left the shop and Mum checked the time. “I’m not sure when the owl shop closes, so...let’s see how late the hair salon is open.”
It took a bit of wandering, and asking directions of a couple of helpful passersby, but they found the salon. They stepped inside to find a bunch of comfy looking stools in front of mirrors, filled with witches all getting their hair done. Stephanie stepped around Mum, and jumped as a shriek rang out.
“Oh, you poor dear! What happened to your hair ?”
Stephanie blushed crimson as a slender, stylish woman flapped her way over to them.
“Is that how you greet all your customers?” Mum’s voice came out dripping with ice.
The woman drew up short. “Only the ones who look as though some beast has attacked them with a pair of scissors!”
“You’re rude.”
Mum and the woman both looked down at Stephanie, who was shaking slightly with rage and humiliation. “I don’t care how good you are, I wouldn’t let you touch my hair if you paid me .”
Stephanie turned and stomped out.
In the street, she leaned against the building and took deep breaths, fighting tears. She jumped when the door opened and the flappy woman came hurtling out, followed by a very angry looking man. “Get. Out. Of. My. Shop!”
“Well, I never-”
“Out! And stay out! I’ll send your things by owl!”
Stephanie watched as she drew herself up and flounced down the street, muttering about “art.”
The man looked over his shoulder, puffing slightly. He was short, not thin, but not heavy, and he had a bright red pair of mutton chops and a gleaming pate. His robes looked understated, but nice, and he reached up and adjusted a tiny pair of spectacle that perched on the end of his nose.
“I’m terribly sorry about Hilda. I knew she was a boor, but I never thought she’d reduce a child to tears!”
Mum stepped out from behind him and gave Stephanie a small smile. “Stephy, this is Francis Elora, the shop owner.”
Stephanie gulped down the lump that was still in her throat and curtsied to him. “Um, hi. You didn’t have to fire her for me.”
Mr. Elora snorted. “Child, I fired her because no-one that works with hair should have that little tact. Would you still like your hair done?”
Stephanie swallowed, and nodded.
“Then come in. I’ll take care of it myself.”
She followed him into the shop, and he helped her up onto a stool. She stared into the mirror, catching sight of her pierced ears for the first time. They certainly looked pretty, but her hair ….she couldn’t help but see a boy in the mirror now, and she started shaking slightly.
Mum, touched her shoulder, and she looked at her with tears forming in her eyes. “Never mind,” Mum said.
Stephanie dashed her hand across her eyes, sniffing. “No, no, I’m ok. What?”
Mum stared at her for a moment. “I need to run down to the owl shop. It’s just around the corner. Will you be ok until I get back?”
Stephanie nodded, and forced a smile.
“Ok. If you’re sure,” Mum said. She grinned and booped Stephanie on the nose. “Nothing crazy, ok?”
Stephanie’s smile stretched into an answering grin. “You mean I can’t have it pink?”
Mum stared at her suspiciously. “You’re not serious.”
She giggled and shrugged in a “who, me?” sort of way.
Mum groaned. “I reserve the right to veto anything.”
Stephanie made a shooing gesture. “I’ll be fine.”
Mum sighed. “Lord, give me strength that I don’t kill her when I get back,” she muttered as she walked out.
Mr. Elora shook his head. “Do you actually want it pink?”
Stephanie grinned sheepishly. “Maybe?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Let’s take it slow. First, what’s the longest you’ve had it?”
She held her hand up to indicate a bowl cut that brushed the top of her ears. He nodded briskly. “And how long would you like it?”
She swallowed. “Um, you charge by the foot?”
He nodded again, pulling on a pair of gloves.
“Maybe a foot, and then we’ll see if I want it shorter or longer?”
Mr. Elora smiled. “A wise decision. Have you ever had your hair lengthened?”
She shook her head.
He picked up a tiny bottle and unstoppered it. “You may feel a tingling.”
He poured the bottle onto her head, and worked it into her scalp. Immediately, her head began to itch. “Ow, ooh, that’s, um…” she bounced uncomfortably in place, gripping her knees. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, trying to shut out the feeling as best she could. It went on for what felt like forever, and she hummed quietly and tunelessly as she fought the urge to scratch.
She jumped when she felt hair touch her neck, and her eyes flew open. Staring back at her was a girl with hair to her shoulders. She gasped and reached up to touch it, only to have her hands intercepted by Mr. Elora’s. “Ah-ah. You don’t want hair on your hands, do you?”
She shook her head and fidgeted as she literally watched her hair grow. It slipped down past her shoulders, itching like mad, and started to pool on her shoulders. Mr. Elora pulled it back and gathered it away from her, constantly stroking her hair, hand over hand, as it grew. Finally, an agonizing minute later, the itching slowed and stopped. Mr. Elora held it away and waved his wand over it, cleaning it with a muttered word.
The hair fell down her back and slid forward around her face, smooth and clean and she stared into the mirror, a welter of emotions flowing through her. She looked like a proper girl! She reached up and touched her hair, pulling it forward so she could see how long it was, running her hands through it, shivering at the luxury of having long hair after a lifetime of boy haircuts.
Mr. Elora eyed her reflection critically. “ Actually, you have lovely hair. You could probably get away with a simple trim to clear up the tips, if you like.”
Stephanie almost agreed. But...she’d never had hair this long, and she wasn’t sure she could take care of it.
“Umm...I...how do I keep it looking like this?” she asked softly, hoping it was a simple answer.
“Well, your parent’s can easily cast a few spells until you get the hang of...no?”
“Muggleborn,” she said with a sigh.
“Ah. Well, then you’ll have to brush it every day, and wash it twice a week. Do muggles have a potion that makes your hair soft?”
She giggled. “Sort of.”
“Then you’ll need to use that every time you wash,” he said. He ran his fingers through it, eyeing it critically. “And you’ll probably need a potion to keep it from becoming too dry. If it does, then it will get frizzy and become unmanageable.”
She bit her lip. “Let me ask my mum when she gets back. Can I see what it would look like pink? I mean, does it cost extra?”
He chuckled and waved his wand. Her brown hair and eyebrows lightened, flushed, and then settled suddenly into a shocking bubblegum pink. Her mouth formed a little “o” of surprise and she squealed. She looked like a cartoon character! A pretty, girly, cartoon!
“I love it!”
Mr. Elora’s voice was dry. “Naturally.”
“Does it...I mean is it...how do I…”
“This is a simple transfiguration that lasts only a minute or so. It takes a potion to actually color it.”
“Does it hurt my hair?”
He looked shocked. “No! Why would it?”
She blushed. “Muggle hair colors burn hair.”
He stared at her and pointed his finger at her in the mirror. “Then you keep those nasty colors away from your hair, girl. Understood?”
She nodded, grinning. “How much?”
“A bottle should last you six months to a year, depending on how fast your hair grows. Simply apply it once a month.”
“And how much does-”
“Stephanie Mallow, what did I say?”
Stephanie jumped. “It’s not real, Mum! It’ll wear off in a minute!”
Mum set down the small cage she held, which was making little peeping hoots. She stepped forward and brushed Stephanie’s hair behind her ears, staring at her critically. “The annoying thing is, that shade of pink looks good with your skin,” she murmured. “Are you sure? Pink isn’t...well…”
Stephanie blushed again. “I know. But...well, I probably won’t fit in anyway. So I might as well have fun with it?”
Mum tapped her foot. “How much is it for the pink hair?”
“Thirty galleons.”
“And that lasts how long?” Mum asked, wincing.
“As I was telling your daughter, six months to a year, depending on how fast her hair grows.”
Mum shook her head. “Not today, sweetheart.”
Stephanie nodded and stared into the mirror as the beautiful pink faded back to her normal brown. She gave a little sigh of her own. “Um, what do you think about how long it is, Mum?”
Mum looked at it, considering. “You’re going to spend most of your time with it up, in this heat. Are you sure you don’t want to have it here,” she put her hand just above her neck, “and grow into it?”
Stephanie clutched her new hair, realizing that now she had it, she couldn’t bear to part with it. But… “I’m more worried about taking care of it,” she admitted.
Mum looked at her looking in the mirror and grinned. “That does take a bit of doing. But I think we have the same sort of hair, which means I can show you how. And if it turns out to be too much, we can get it cut down. The question is, how does it make you feel?”
Stephanie looked at Mum with a small, shy smile. “It makes me feel pretty.”
“Then hair all down your back it is,” she said. She looked at Mr. Elora. “What do I owe you?”
He shrugged and pulled her hair back, waving his wand to trim a bare half inch, her original hair, away. “Let’s call it three galleons.”
Mum hesitated. “I was told it was five per foot…”
Mr. Elora leaned in conspiratorially. “The potion costs three. It’s the least I can do to make up for the unpleasantness earlier.”
Mum grinned. “You don’t have to do that. You made my daughter smile. That’s worth five galleons to me.”
He actually blushed a bit. “Thank you, but I insist. I will ask a favor, however?”
“Oh?”
“Your daughter tells me that Muggle hair colors burn hair.”
Mum blinked. “You know, I suppose they do.”
He winced. “If she does want her hair color changed, please come see me. I’d hate to think of hair this lovely all crispy and broken.”
Mum laughed. “I’ll do that.”
Ten minutes later, laden down with purchases, they slipped out of Diagon Alley and back into London proper.
~~~~~~
All the way home, Ellie fought the urge to stare at Stephanie. She laughed and chatted more than she ever had before. And, with the simple addition of earrings and long hair, her sweet face now completely resembled a girl’s, no trace of the boy Ellie had tried to force her to be remaining.
She sprang for take away curry, one of their favorites, and they ate, both of them laughing as Stephanie had to learn how to keep her hair out of her food. They finally settled for putting it up in a ponytail, which stopped dinner for a few minutes as they stared in the mirror at the startlingly girlish face that stared back, Stephanie with an excited, happy smile, Ellie with a smile that masked her inner turmoil.
After dinner Stephanie met the owl, an indignant little feathered tennis ball that Stephanie immediately christened Murderball when he tried to explain his unhappiness by trying to take her finger off with a beak that could barely fit the tip of it. She brushed her daughter’s hair for the first time that night, a hundred strokes, as Stephanie made little happy noises at discovering the joy of having her hair brushed. Then she twisted it up into a loose knot so that Stephanie wouldn’t tangle it too badly in her sleep and firmly put her to bed, over protests of not being sleepy.
She went back into the kitchen and stared at the wall for a few minutes, eyes prickling. Her child had never seemed so happy, so at peace with him...with herself. It was her, now, she reminded herself fiercely. Ellie could see the stab of hurt that crossed Stephanie’s face whenever she messed up, and she fought like mad to keep it right even in her own head. Especially in her own head.
Still...Ellie stepped over to the pantry and pulled out a beer. She swallowed half the bottle in one go, and then stared at it, turning it over and over in her hands. That was it. If she’d had any doubts, and lingering hopes, they were gone, taking her Trevor with them. For the good of her child, for the happiness of her child, she could never see Trevor again. Would never-
She heard a sound behind her, and swiftly dashed her hand across her face. She turned to find Trev - no, Stephanie, hand on her chest, tears in her eyes.
“What-” She looked down at where Stephanie’s hand was and felt a stab of hatred for the little locket she knew her girl was clutching. “Oh. Oh, sweetie.”
“I’m a girl, right? For real and true?” Stephanie whispered.
Ellie set her beer down, walked over, and pulled the hated thing out of her shirt and over her head. “I think you’ve been a brave girl enough for one day.”
Stephanie stared at it with loathing. “But...I have to-”
“Shhh,” she said, touching her daughter’s lips. “You’ve had a long day. I think you can be forgiven a good night’s sleep before you start trying to sleep with it.”
Stephanie shuddered at the sight of it, and Ellie quickly balled it up in her hand, gathering her little girl to her chest. “You’re a beautiful, wonderful, amazing little girl, sweetheart. For real and true.” Forever, she added in her head, heart twisting traitorously.
Stephanie smiled up at her. “Thanks, Mum,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to tuck you in?”
Stephanie giggled. “No, Mum, I’m...I’m ok. And I’m a little old to be tucked in!”
Ellie’s heart skipped. “Yes,” she said, forcing a grin. “I suppose you are. Then off to bed with you. Scoot!”
Stephanie giggled, hugged her once more, and then went down the hallway to her room.
Ellie watched her go. The locket felt heavy in her hand as she reclaimed her beer and went into her office. She locked the door, and sat in her chair heavily. She took a long pull, and then opened her hand, staring at the little piece of jewelry with open disgust.
Trevor , it whispered to her. All that was left of him, this locket represented. A pain to Stephanie, and an agony to Ellie, who was fighting to say goodbye and hello with a smile on her face and never showing anything wrong. Stephanie had caught her crying three times too many already and she was not, not going to cry anymore. She had a beautiful daughter.
Stephanie.
Eleven years old, and able to do magic.
Her daughter.
She opened her hand and stared at the locket again. Face unmoving, she ripped open the bottom drawer of her desk, dropped it in, and shut it firmly.
Then she booted up her computer and spent the next hour writing, editing and proofing a four hundred word note. She used the same font she’d used for her letter to the headmistress, and hit print.
Then she walked into the living room and over to Murderball’s cage and popped it open. He shot out and flitted around the room for a few minutes. She let him stretch a bit and then hissed, “Oi!”
He settled down on the back of the couch, glaring at her. The salesman had assured her that Murderball was a fully trained post owl, but he mostly looked like a pissed off loofa. She swiftly scribbled, “Healer Erzebet Hepida” on the front of the small greeting card envelope she’d found, and held it out to him. “I have a job for you.”
A second later, the violent little ball of bird was out the door, carrying the letter in his beak.
Ellie stood on the porch, watching him go, and sucked down the last of her beer. Goodbye, Trevor, she thought. And then, against all her promises to herself, she softly burst into tears.