HP (Harry Potter) Requests

The summer after her second year at Hogwarts was one of quiet transformation for Harry. Discreetly, in the quiet corners of her life, she began exploring methods to reflect the gender she had always known herself to be. At first, the search was cautious. She had no desire for anyone to know what she was planning—she’d already spent years suppressing parts of herself. But after the Marge incident, when everything about her life seemed like it could be upended, Harry knew she could no longer hide who she was. She was tired of pretending, tired of being forced into a role that didn’t fit. And so, she began to seek out the magic that could change her life, and maybe, even herself.

She started small, ordering tomes from the wizarding world’s most obscure bookshops, the ones that specialized in potions, spells, and rituals too dangerous or strange for most witches and wizards. Through owl post, she sent requests for anything that could help her achieve her goal, hoping nobody would notice. Books on transformation, gender-related enchantments, and magical rituals for changing one's form—she poured over every page, reading the words carefully, studying every detail. The magic existed. She knew it did. Wizards and witches could alter their forms, change species, become something completely different—so changing her physical gender would be simple in comparison.

By mid-summer, Harry’s research had led her to a ritual that seemed straightforward and safe enough to try. It was a simple spell—well, as simple as magic of this nature could be. With a few basic ingredients, including a vial of moonlit water, a feather from a phoenix, and a drop of her own blood, Harry could change her body in a permanent, irreversible way. The ritual didn’t promise a perfect transition, but it was the best she had. Yet, despite her excitement, Harry hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a drastic change, not just physically, but emotionally. Even with magic, it was a big step. So she waited. She practiced smaller changes on animals, trying out spells that could alter their fur, their shape, or the texture of their scales. Gradually, as the summer wore on, she became more confident.

She also found a smaller, less invasive change—a spell to fix her eyesight. It had always been a nuisance, the glasses that she had worn since she could remember. She hated them—though they were part of her, they were also something that constantly reminded her of how she didn’t quite fit. The ritual that fixed her sight was simple but effective, and by the time the summer was nearing its end, Harry was walking around without her glasses for the first time in years. The new clarity in her vision felt freeing, though she still wore a pair of cosmetic glasses—glasses that looked identical to the ones she had worn before—to maintain the illusion.

It wasn’t until she’d stayed in Diagon Alley for the remainder of the summer that Harry started to get brave enough to confide in someone. The tailoress, Madam Malkin, who had fitted her for robes during her first year, was someone she trusted. They had a quiet, respectful relationship, and Harry had always felt comfortable around her. In the days leading up to the third-year term, Harry decided it was time to finally speak her truth. Madam Malkin, always patient and observant, listened as Harry spoke in quiet tones about the changes she had begun to feel inside. She explained her fear, her struggles, and her desire to change, to become the person she knew she was meant to be.

Madam Malkin, with a soft smile, reassured Harry. “You’ve always known who you are, my dear. And magic can help you reflect that.” The words were gentle, but they carried a weight that Harry hadn’t expected—encouragement, understanding, acceptance.

When the term finally began, Harry entered Hogwarts with a new sense of determination. In the safety of her dormitory, and at times when she found herself alone, she practiced the methods she had learned. She started with small transformations. She could transfigure a piece of parchment into a different shape, a scrap of fabric into something new, practicing the control it would take to shift her own form. At first, she was unsure, nervous that she might fail or that the magic might somehow go wrong. But with time, she grew confident. By the second week of school, Harry decided to try the ritual she had learned on herself.

The first time she changed her body, it felt like stepping into a dream. Her heart raced as she completed the final incantation, and for the first time in her life, Harry looked in the mirror and saw the face she had always imagined—a face that reflected who she truly was. She touched her hair, her new, softer features, the way her robes fit perfectly now—not awkwardly, not forcing her body to fit into something that felt wrong. She was beautiful, she realized, and it felt like a piece of her had finally clicked into place. She felt complete, for the first time in as long as she could remember.

But then, reality set in.

Fear washed over her. What if someone found out? What if they all saw her like this and rejected her? She quickly looked away from the mirror, her chest tightening as she felt the familiar weight of uncertainty and self-doubt creeping back in. She had never been able to fully trust people with the parts of her that didn’t fit in the boxes they’d given her. And Hogwarts, as accepting as it seemed, was still full of people who might not understand. In a rush, she untransfigured herself, her heart sinking as she returned to the body she had worn for so long.

The transition was almost painful. After feeling whole in that brief moment, returning to the form she had hidden behind for years felt like a betrayal to herself. It was harder than it had ever been before. The clothes felt tight, the weight of her body too heavy, like it no longer fit her. But she didn’t have the strength to confront the world just yet.

And so, Harry returned to being “Harry” again, outwardly, at least. But whenever she found herself alone—whether in an empty classroom, a quiet corner of the library, or the abandoned halls at night—she would allow herself to change again. She would let herself be the girl she truly was, even if just for a few moments, feeling the sweet relief of being in her true form. It was during those brief moments of solitude that she truly felt like herself—complete, finally.

For now, Harry kept her secret. She wasn’t ready to share it with the world, but the small moments of transformation gave her hope. One day, she thought, she would be brave enough to stand in front of everyone and show them who she really was. But for now, she would keep practicing, keep evolving, and keep becoming the person she had always known herself to be. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.