Harry sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at Ron and the others.
"What's with those faces? Why are you looking at me like that? What do I even look like right now?"
Theodore conjured a mirror and held it up.
Harry took one look and blurted, "Bloody— that's me? Theo, did you actually turn me into a girl?! This is insane. Can I change back? And are you sure this will make Professor Snape go easier on us in Potions?"
Theo grinned. "Just remember one thing: in class, whatever happens, keep those big eyes on Snape. Trust me—free points."
…
Next morning.
At breakfast in the Great Hall, the first-year Gryffindors looked collectively queasy. Potions loomed. Pressure loomed harder.
Across the room, the Slytherin table was all laughter and leisure. Draco Malfoy kept glancing over with a cat-who-caught-the-canary smirk. He still hadn't swallowed what happened on the Hogwarts Express—and the rumour that Theo had beaten a troll wasn't helping his courage—but today would be different. Today was Snape. Today, Slytherin rose.
Except… where were Theo, Harry, and the others?
"Too scared to show? Going to fake sick?" Draco brightened at the thought. If Gryffindors skipped Snape, the House point haemorrhage would be legendary.
"Come on," he said, standing. "Professor Snape's class—we should arrive early."
The Slytherins filed out, spirits high. Gryffindor first-years got shakier.
Hermione twisted the hem of her robe, eyes on the doors. "Where are they? Lost? Impossible. They'd never—if we're late to Potions, Professor Snape won't show mercy. Gryffindor hasn't won the House Cup in years. This could be our year!"
Up at the staff table, McGonagall shot Dumbledore a look. "You do realise the children are terrified? Professor Snape has quite a reputation among Gryffindors."
Dumbledore's smile turned nostalgic. "It reminds me of my school days. Hogwarts was under our most unpopular headmaster, Phineas Nigellus Black. The students were… wonderfully united." He dabbed at his spectacles, as if wiping off old tears. "Anyone who crossed Phineas became everyone's friend. Anyone who pranked him? A hero."
He beamed. "So perhaps a teacher the children fear isn't all bad. It fosters unity—and creativity."
McGonagall withheld judgment. Farther down the table, Quirrell's eyes slid sidelong towards Dumbledore.
Disgusting old fool, hissed a voice in Quirrell's skull. That smile nauseates me. Go. I don't want to see him.
Quirrell began to rise—when a low roar of whispers swelled from the doors.
"Merlin's beard!"
"Who is that?"
"Which House is she in?"
"She's gorgeous—"
Every gaze swung to the entry as Theo led the group in—beside a shy, soft-stepping girl with lowered lashes and a vintage-cut robe that made older boys sit up and the girls bristle.
Hermione's heart dropped like a stone. The sight of that delicate first-year at Theo's side triggered a sharp, unfair panic—mine—no, not mine—what—?
Then the angle, the eyes, the mouth—something clicked. She stared harder, breath catching.
"H—"
"Harry?!"
Silence detonated across the hall. Knives and forks clattered. Someone swore.
Dumbledore, who'd been smiling, slowly gaped like a landed fish. McGonagall's temple vein appeared, and she speared Dumbledore with a glare. "This is what you meant by fostering creativity, Albus?"
Dumbledore looked genuinely stricken. Unity and creativity, yes, his expression said. Cross-dressing? No.
Quirrell also stared, wordless. In his mind, Voldemort howled.
Dumbledore!!!
What have you done to the Boy Who Lived?
Quirrell, the Dark Lord snapped, I meant for you to keep Defence useless so Potter learned nothing. But now—teach him something. Put the Saviour back on the proper path!
Unaware of the philosophical crisis he'd sparked in both headmaster and archvillain, Theo hustled the group through a minimal breakfast and down to the dungeons.
The Slytherins were already seated when Snape swept from his office. He favoured his House with the faintest nod—then caught the Gryffindors trickling in and curled a lip.
"Stop," he said silkily. "One minute to the hour and you are not in seats. You will, of course, waste everyone's time. Ten points from Gryffindor for tardiness." His eyes sharpened. "And our celebrity—Mr Potter? Did you not think to remind your classmates? Did you imagine if everyone was late, your own mediocrity would— Mr Potter, where are you? Stand up."
Harriet stepped forward—exactly as Theo had coached—eyes wide and dewy. "Professor Snape… I'm here. I'm sorry. It was my fault for not rushing them. Please punish me."
Snape stared.
"?"
"??"
"And you are?" His voice thinned. "Harr—what? Potter who?"
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