Madam Pomfrey carefully examined Harry’s transformed body in the hospital wing.
Still adjusting to his new, distinctly feminine form, Harry felt extremely awkward. Meanwhile, Ron stood nearby, equally at a loss, staring at Harry’s now red-haired appearance, which made him look suspiciously like a Weasley relative.
“Everything seems perfectly normal,” Madam Pomfrey said, packing away her tools. “There’s no trace of dark magic here. It looks like a timed prank spell—once it wears off, things should go back to normal on their own.”
Hearing this, Harry exhaled in relief.
Missing their very first Potions class wasn’t an option; he knew how furious Professor Snape would be.
And Ron, who’d been piecing the situation together in his head, already had a suspect in mind.
“Oh, it was definitely them!” he muttered darkly.
“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey. We’ll be off then!” Harry said, heading out with Ron at his side.
Their next class was about to start, and they were determined not to be late.
—
As Hermione made her way to the entrance of the dungeon classroom, a sudden fluttering of wings caught her attention.
Turning around, she broke into a surprised smile.
“Kathoom!”
The owl, usually inseparable from Bruce, had somehow flown all the way to her. Kathoom perched on her shoulder, and Hermione couldn’t resist reaching up to give him a little scratch.
“What are you doing here? Still having a spat with Bruce?” she said, exasperated but pleased. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to look after you for now!”
She figured that all those treats she’d given Kathoom hadn’t been for nothing—clearly, he’d missed her.
Hermione cradled the owl in her arms as she entered the classroom, just as two students rushed in, one of whom was a red-haired girl who plopped down beside her, out of breath.
“Whew! Made it!” the girl gasped.
Entering right behind her was Ron Weasley, who usually came to class with Harry.
Hermione glanced around, her brow furrowing as she noticed the absence of their friend.
“Ron, where’s Harry?” she asked sharply. “He better not be skipping! You both know that missing class is a serious violation of school rules!”
“Hermione, I’m right here!”
The red-haired girl sitting next to her timidly raised a hand.
Hermione blinked in confusion, glancing at the Gryffindor badge on the girl’s robes. She’d never seen this girl in Gryffindor before.
“Who… are you?” Hermione asked, her brow knitting.
“It’s me, Harry…” the girl—now Harriet—mumbled as she adjusted her glasses. “Remember? You fixed these for me.”
To prove it, she pushed her hair back to reveal the familiar lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.
Hermione gasped, leaning back in shock, her eyes widening.
“You… how did you end up like this?”
Harry—now Harriet—grimaced. “It was a prank. Ron thinks he knows who did it, and he’s already made plans to confront them after class.”
“Prank or not, this is going too far!” Hermione whispered, her disapproval clear.
Meanwhile, their exchange hadn’t gone unnoticed. Students around them had caught every word, and Draco Malfoy, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle, wasted no time in pouncing on the opportunity.
“Look who it is, boys!” Malfoy sneered loudly. “The famous girl who lived. I guess the ‘boy who lived’ is just a legend now!”
His cronies burst into laughter, joined by a few other snickering students.
Harriet hunched her shoulders, her face turning red with embarrassment.
Bang!
Suddenly, the dungeon door burst open, and Professor Snape strode into the room, his expression severe, radiating an unmistakable air of intimidation.
The classroom instantly fell silent, every student straightening in their seat, eyes trained straight ahead.
All except Harriet, who still kept her head down.
“We will begin with roll call,” Snape announced curtly, wasting no time on introductions as he opened the roster.
Every time he called a name, there was a swift, nervous response.
Then he reached a name he knew all too well.
“Harry Potter!” he called, his voice icy. “Ah yes, the famous—celebrity—himself.”
Silence.
“Harry Potter!” Snape repeated, his tone sharpened with impatience.
Still, no answer.
“It seems our illustrious celebrity has no sense of punctuality!” he sneered, his gaze sweeping the room.
But then a small, hesitant voice broke the silence.
“Professor… I’m here.”
Snape froze at the sound of the voice. His normally stern face softened, almost as if he’d been struck by a spell.
Hoo-hoo!
Perched on Hermione’s desk, Kathoom flapped excitedly, hopping up and down with unrestrained glee.
Snape stood rooted to the spot, his mind spiraling back into a memory.
A long-ago day… two girls laughing as they swung on a playground, a skinny boy watching from behind the bushes, utterly captivated.
“What does it matter if she’s Muggle-born?” the girl’s voice echoed through his memory, the same voice he’d just heard in his classroom.
For a brief moment, he saw her face again, that kind, clever, and radiant girl… but no, that was over twenty years ago.
The students exchanged puzzled glances, unable to ignore their professor’s uncharacteristic behavior.
“Am I seeing things?” Ron whispered in disbelief. “Is Snape… crying?”
“Don’t be silly!” Hermione whispered back. “He probably just didn’t sleep well last night.”
Snape took a shaky breath, his expression shifting as he finally pulled himself from his reverie.
That voice—it was identical to Lily’s. But it couldn’t be her. Lily was long gone, leaving only her son, Harry Potter, with his insufferable resemblance to his father.
And then it hit him. Potter.
“Harry Potter’s absent—”
“Professor, I am here!”
Unable to bear it any longer, Harry, still in his transformed state as Harriet, stood up, locking eyes with Snape.
Snape’s gaze hardened, only to widen in shock.
For a single, raw moment, he saw her again. Lily’s face, her familiar features in Harry’s… Harriet’s startled expression.
A wave of confusion and regret washed over him, sending a shiver through his entire body. He could hardly breathe.
“Lily…?”
Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!
Kathoom hooted gleefully, hopping around Hermione’s desk until she gently held him still.
“Shh!” Hermione whispered, her eyes never leaving Snape’s face, her curiosity piqued by this strange exchange.
Who’s Lily?
—
T/N: Oh it’s Harriet not Rose… Why did I say Rose?
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