I need a Hero.
Annalise, gangly awkward brunette teen with what her few friends called a roguish smirk, but what her sister…no-Caretaker? Also no, really there was really only one way to describe her, one way that she had been feeling less and less conflicted about calling her lately. It has been two long years now. What her Mom called a shit eating grin with a tone that oozed affection in a way that warmed her to her core, was on her way home. She felt her stomach flip happily, and her brain produced lots of the happy brain chemical, she had a real home. Not a place where she lived and hated being, but a place she shared and lived with her mother. She had spent the day like a normal teen at the skatepark with a few other kids she knew she would only see during the summer holls.
She was proud of herself, she had almost done an ollie north without eating dust. Almost being the keyword here, she was definitely going to feel the bruises tomorrow. Her foot had gotten caught on the board when trying to bring it back, launching it out from under her and propelling her to the ground. Annalise could admit that she wasn’t the best on a skateboard, but she mostly blamed it on her growth spurt that came with her new diet. Her ‘new diet’ being ‘not being starved to death anymore’.
It still felt so odd to not have to sneak and squirrel away food, mom kept catching her doing so, but she didn’t get mad, if anything she helped her by making packs (and sealing them with magic) so she could hide away just in case. She was really glad her mom was understanding of her weirdness. She didn’t think about the fact that her mother had her own oddness. It was really nice that she was constantly making sure she was ok and knew how to take care of herself. She wondered briefly if her birth mother would have been the same before discarding the thought. She was happy with her mom now, and didn’t need her birth mom. Don’t get her wrong, she was still curious about her parents, the book of moving pictures on her desk was one of her most cherished possessions, she just had a mom who cared and was here for her now so there was no need to live in the past.
She didn’t need to live up to the image of her parents in the people’s eyes. The people who left her to die.
When she got to her house, the door opened to a once tall (again growth spurts change your perspective) woman in a red and black suit with those silly shoulderpads that she loved so much greeted her. Her mom, Edelgard von Hresvelg, Annalise felt the joy well up within her again as she smiled in response. She had inquisitive lavender eyes and a soft smile, her face framed by long flowing chestnut hair with a few remaining white strands, and white tips. Annalise remembers how it used to be all white.
Currently her mom wasn’t wearing her suit jacket and had her sleeves rolled up showing off her very buff arms. She snorted as a stray thought about Malfoy and how her mom could probably fold him into a pretzel entered into her brain.
“What got you snickering darling? Come inside quickly, that rotten weather will make you sick.”
“It’s nothing mom, it’s fifteen degrees outside, you’re just weak to cold.” She ignored her mom’s pout at the barb and did as she was told, shutting the door and having to instantly take off the hoodie, between all the heating charms and magic her mom had performed inside was always pleasantly warm.
“And you’re crazy going outside without a scarf in these temperatures. I swear you’re worse than Ingrid and Ash combined. At least you’re better than the Professor, that crazy woman would go out in a blizzard with her midriff bare like it was a sunny day.” She did her best to not roll her eyes and gag at the dazed blushing look on her mom’s face.
Before absentmindedly following her mom back to the living room Annalise picked through the mail on the table near the couch, smirking at the few letters with coats of arms in fancy wax seals.
“She sounds like a hoot. As for what I was thinking, there is a noble at school with blond hair that is almost white and apparently it’s like their whole family tradition to magically dye their hair white, and I was thinking about how small and wimpy he is.” Her mom snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Your world's mages sure like to think magic solves everything don’t they? Though speaking of small and wimpy,” Annalise stuck out her tongue at her mom, wasn’t her fault she was only now starting to build muscle and no longer looked like a stick! “How about a bout of training? I’m not sending you back there until you can stand up to me wielding an axe for at least half an hour.”
Annalise beamed and wiggled happily, and that's when it clicked she was happy. She was at home. How much things had changed in two years…
Two years ago.
There was so much pain. There was so much noise. Harry, the boy, the freak, was in so much pain. It just wanted it to stop. There was so much pain that it could barely think. It couldn’t even remember what had set Vernon off. Everything was so hazy.
It wished for a Hero. A protector. Something to make the pain end.
It prayed with all the desperation it had.
You called for help… and somebody came.
The pain stopped just long enough for the freak to process what was happening. To figure out why Uncle Vernon’s fists weren’t continuing their assault. Well that was new, there was a shining tear in reality. An arm was poking out of it, clad in a red armoured dress. It blinked in confusion, and just knew it would be blamed for this recent bout of freakishness. It still struggled to comprehend that there was an ironclad hand holding Vernon’s arm. It watched in awe as a woman covered in red armoured dress slid out of the tear, which closed without a sound behind her, she floated down onto the ground of the Dursley house with the grace of a Wrathful Goddess.
It was envious of her long white hair that floated around her, as if she was underwater. She also had golden ram horns that curved upwards and made her look so very pretty. To complete her ensemble she had an axe in her other hand. It was finally let go as its uncle tried to free his hand from Her grasp. It gasped for breath, trying to fight off the spots in its vision, it swears it sees another woman with green hair and a fond smile behind the ethereal being for a second. Then the one handed axe finds itself embedded into its uncle’s head, and then into its aunt as she tries and fails to swing a pan at the apparition’s head.
Soon, there was just Harry, Dudley and the stranger. And two corpses.
“Shit. That was probably a bit rash of us.” The Hero kneels in the blood in front of it, and a white light emanates from her hand, filling Harry with energy and the hurt disappears. “Scratch that, no he deserved that.” The anger and disgust in her voice is shocking especially since the anger isn’t directed at it. “Here, this should do fine until we can get you to a proper medic.”
Then Dudley starts to cry.
Harry doesn’t remember much of what happens next. The next few months are a bit of a hazy mess to her recollection. Meeting Edelgard, learning to live with her and Dudley, navigating this new world, where she doesn’t hit her. Learning about each other’s lives, discovering magic as Edelgard taught her and Dudley, Faith, Healing, Smiting, Reason, Dark, Black. So much of her world had changed that day, so much of it had become better, Dudley was no longer allowed to bully her (or others) and actually had learned there were consequences to doing so. Yet after a while… he seemed happier? Seemed to be thriving in this new environment, it was weird and she didn’t know how to feel about that. But she was glad because he went from someone she couldn’t stand to someone she was slowly beginning to consider a brother.
Though he wasn’t so surprised, Edelgard had a pull, she was magnetic.
However the biggest thing for her, was just learning with Edelgard how to live, so long her life hadn’t been really hers had been dictated by the Dursleys. Still over the past three years she has been so busy discovering a world of magic unknown to the three of them through a strange series of letters that stalked them. Unravelling the secret of Harry Potter, Boy who lived and the secret, strange and utterly nonsensical magical society hiding in Britain. None of them really liked magical Britain but all agreed they needed to learn about it.
The sudden privilege afforded them as they out of nowhere had access to assets they never expected, gold, property, and how they planned. Nothing like a lost Emperor with the power of a burning Goddess and two children to set wild and lofty goals for the future.
While Edelgard at first, had reservations about an underground civilisation that ran the economy of the magical world, apparently she had trauma about that? Once she had given the goblins a chance they had gotten along with the underground warrior bankers like a house on fire.
Really, seeing Edelgard charm, threaten, bluff, and weave herself into this world so unlike hers, had lit a fire under Dudley and Harry.
Some things weren’t so great like, learning politics and such, as Edelguard deemed it an essential given his situation. So while he had to spend his time reading and polishing oratory skills, Dudley got to learn axe and sword play, and faith magic. Not to say he didn’t get to learn the other things he just had other things to focus on first. Of course Harry had had the pleasure of reading theoretical works that Edelgard would write with a computer, that she had somehow acquired, entire books of knowledge from her world just for the fun of it. It was one of the rare things that both she and Dudley found plain weird, both of them would rather spend time away from books for leisure.
Then Hogwarts started. Harry had been guarded, had been cunning, well, as cunning as her crash course in social manipulation and navigation would allow. She may have been limited by both that and by the fact she was only eleven years old. The good thing is that she had her guardian’s counsel only a letter away, as well as great funds. That and her friends helped her, Ron, her new sworn Brother, who kept the adults’ gaze pointed away from her, made keeping her mask easy, and Hermione, her booksmarts friend, who helped her juggle with the course load, her plans, and personal studies; again, the amount of books on political savvy, economics, analysis of magical britain’s political landscape and knowhow, Reason magics that the lost emperor wrote herself before sending it to Harry. Was simply staggering and a lot to ask of an 11 year old.
Oh, also during the Hogwarts year, through speaking to her cousin and her guardian, she had realised that she hated being referred to as the ‘boy who lived’ moniker for many reasons. Though one of the big ones included realising that she was not a boy. The reception was good, from the letters. Dudley’s letter did have a few days of disruption, but she had guessed that whatever had caused it had been sorted through. She actually suspected Dudley had done some research to figure things out before responding. Which, knowing her brot cousin went to the library (or used mom’s computer) to read up on stuff for her? Well that meant a lot and really emphasised how much he had changed.
She had decided on a new name after only a few moments of thinking, Annalise - with her mother’s permission of course - the name of one of the Emperor’s lost siblings. Her youngest sister. She had changed her family name with the Goblins too, in the middle of the school year but not bringing it up just yet.
She was learning how to live with herself and the world, everything had been changing so much so fast. Before now she hadn’t been living, she had been surviving, and apparently there was a very big difference. One that she was finding out about, she flinched internally as she recalled going into a bloody rage last Halloween when something had tried to kill one of her precious people. Her mom had helped her deal with the fall out of that, she had almost seemed proud of her though which… felt nice.
Annalise, of course, had many friends. Unlike Ron who was staunch in his prejudice towards other houses, which she had allowed given it had helped shape the narrative around her. It was a real boon, especially when she had realised just how close an eye Dumbledore had on her, and the school in general. When she received mother’s letter regarding the fact that all the portraits were basically spies for Dumbledore, a creeping sense of paranoia had invaded her every interaction for a month. It was still there, but she was careful now. It even turned out that the older years knew about it, and just accepted it.
She had made allies and friends in most houses. Very few first years, (Zabini didn’t count he was the funniest weirdo, a jester) but the older years who could see what kind of backing she had, and what kind of hand she was playing, what advantages it would offer them. It was kind of hilarious how much the children of Hogwarts believed that they had a hand in shaping the world. The sobering thought was that given the numerous nobles and the diminished size of the magical population of Britain, it was actually true. The childish grudges of today would shape the form of tomorrow.
This was a terrain ripe for the taking.
It would have been quite the leisurely year, despite the constant surveillance, given the routine, if not for how absolutely unsafe Hogwarts proved to be again and again and again.
First there was a troll, then there was quidditch which as a concept for a school sports was terrifying, and definitely did not create an unhealthy cocktail of pride, thrill and self destructive desire inside her mind, then there was the attack on her during her first quidditch game, which she was VERY sore about, and this was not a pun no matter what Big D wrote, which she had repaid by sending a Fire directly into Quirrelmort’s face. Because apparently her self designated nemesis was still alive and kicking behind the face of her third most useless professor.
Snape was second, because Edelgard had taught her how to navigate around these types of people, as well as how to make a potion. And of course the most useless professor was History teacher, which was depressing didn’t these idiots realise how important history is for society? She couldn’t even remember his name; she didn’t even go to class most of the time.
Well that had not lasted as she had burned both of their faces off of the useless professor. Apparently the spells used to quench magical fire did not work on her Reason magic. Or maybe the pain of having your face set on fire impeded one enough to keep them from properly defending themselves.
For some reason, the Headmaster had taken a look at the burned corpse and decided that it was the result of a blood ritual based on love that her birth mother had placed on her blood. Which was why Annalise, or well, rather ‘Harry Potter, boy who lived’ needed to be in the Dursley’s house, people who shared his blood. Which, just, what? His sparkling eyes, and his ignoring of her protests of wanting to go back, she wouldn’t tell him they were dead, wouldn’t give him that information, besides she would play with her cards close to her chest to find out what kind of person he truly was. The answer she arrived at was terrifying when one considered his position as Headmaster of a school.
It was funny, because she was indeed living with a Dursley who she… liked. Well, she didn’t despise or fear him anymore. Love was probably coming along, at some point. But it was difficult to say it to herself because she knew that deep down there was still hurt left. Just like how Dudley did not see Edelgard with the same lens as Annalise. He had a more nuanced relationship with her, but they were working through it together. Though she was certain they were growing closer, it came across in their letters.
Ron, though, was…An anomaly. They had formed a bond, somehow, that either of them would not break, even with how utterly different they were. Maybe it was just based on something childish, but it felt so much more concrete than this. Their goal, their aspiration so different, yet they could speak with a glance. They fought a lot, but their bond came back stronger with each minor break. Annalise had also realised; with her mother’s prompting, apparently using friends as tools was a bad thing, which made sense in retrospect, but cut her some slack, she was twelve and she hadn’t had a lot of friends before!
Also she figured out that if she wanted to continue being friends with him, and the others, she needed to help him change his bigoted ways. After all, having him help portray a mask was one thing, but when that mask made her uncomfortable, well she could find a different mask to use. She didn't want to push away friends in other houses because of his Bigotry. A project for future Annalise.
She did take the time to tell him, before the end of the year, that she wasn’t really Harry because it felt wrong and that she was actually Annalise. He seemed to have taken it well, considering he only groaned in disgust when he realised he had spent so much time hanging around in a girl’s bed. It made her laugh.
She felt a bit guilty she hadn’t told Hermione. Call it distrust, call it a gut feeling, call it reasonable fear of someone who was not raised in a magical world that was somehow more accepting of these things. Hermione seemed intent on trying to pull white and black mathematical rigid logic over situations that did not call for it. She hadn’t told Hermione. But she had tested her. She had offered her a deal disguised as a warning.
“Don’t trust the Headmaster.”
If Hermione talked to the Headmaster, she risked a little break in her ‘perfectly normal gryffindor boy who lived’ persona because it was necessary, so if she didn’t tell the Headmaster she knew that she could trust her more. She would deal with the guilt over that later, if she did talk to the Headmaster it was better to learn now rather than later. She really wanted to be able to open up more to Hermione. She was smart, could keep up with her, and seemed like she was in desperate need of a friend but… Well Annalise had been burned before.
For now it seemed like trusting Hermione was a good choice.
Then there was Zabini. She had not said anything to Zabini before leaving Hogwarts. She had pointedly ignored him when she, her mother, her cousin, Zabini’s mother, and a smug Zabini, had gone clothes shopping. It seemed that for some reason Miss Isabella Zabini had bonded with Edelguard over being scheming ladies, who were both possibly gay Anna wasn’t sure if Miss Zabini was gay but her mom definitely was. Combine that with the fact that Edelgard’s accent and body made people think she was Italian, somehow, and that led to a wide array of rumours that seemed to imply that she and the Zabini Widow (she had such a cool title) were cohorts and possibly related. Given they were both pretty, charismatic, single, terrifying, deadly and apparently both Italian.
Dudley was here too, even though he had tried to escape his inevitable fate, his continued growth spurts meant that he needed new clothing basically every half year. Yet while he spent the day grumbling, and blushing at whatever Zabini, the younger, kept whispering to him. Annalise found herself enjoying the shopping trip, which she had not expected. Between the teasing and counsel from both her mom as well as the Zabini’s, and finding clothing that did appeal to her, well she had expected it to leave her feeling miserable but in the end it had been a thoroughly pleasurable day.
They had ended at an ice cream parlour, where Isabella had teased Edelgard’s delighted face as she tried many different flavours of ice cream. Yes her mom had embarrassed her by trying every one of the ice cream flavours and making her and her cousin do the same.
Deep into the night, she, her cousin, and her otherworldly mother worked on the soon to be grand reveal of Annalise to the world. They did as they did every night, planning on how to try to take over the world.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not having a good couple of years (three now). It all started a few years ago when a new Zabini showed up on the isles. At first He had simply believed their current Zabini was more active, but he rapidly deduced it was a new one, even if she presented herself under another name.
Who was she trying to fool with her false last name? She was clearly an Italian Dark witch, and making splashes in their community causing unease and showing the signs of views that were not conductive to magical Britain, IE upsetting the status quo, risking more chaos when the magical population of the isle had suffered so much already.
The next problem came in the form of the Dursleys, after all he knew what kind of people the Dursleys were, and while it was unfortunate what would happen to the young lad it was ultimately required. After all he couldn’t have a braggart like James Potter, so that eliminated the boy staying with magicals.
Dumbledore had also learned his lesson about muggle orphanages, Tom had proved why he shouldn’t send him there, so sadly the Boy had to be with his magic hating Aunt and Uncle, they would beat the braggart out of him, make a good soldier, and keep him desperate for positive reinforcement. Which he would get at Hogwarts, before being sent back to them to make sure his ego stayed manageable. It would be unpleasant but he would have to bear this sin; it was after all, what he and Gellert had known all that time ago. The Greater Good required sacrifices.
Which is why he was so suspicious/surprised that only one letter was required for young Harry. It made him worried that young Harry was cared for in a way that he had not expected, so he had gone to check on them at Privet Drive only to find another family living there! The boy was missing! Still, he had at least RSVP'D for school so he knew the boy was coming, it just made him wary. Where had the Dursleys gone? Where was Harry Potter?
Of course when he actually saw the boy for the first time he had frowned, Harry looked much more like the children around him (healthy) than he expected, maybe on the smaller side compared to James. His robes were not threadbare, all signs he had underestimated the compassion of the Dursleys, perhaps that would buy him some goodwill from the child, to know that he had been the one to put him with such loving caretakers.
Or that had been the thought until he saw him flinch away from all affection and realised the boy had indeed had the braggart beaten out of him. He could accept that they kept him looking healthy, so long as he was pliable and usable to him. Besides, it would raise less suspicion with the teachers with the boy looking healthy. He had to pat himself on the back, it turned out the Dursleys were an even better idea than he had originally thought!
However that was not the only problem throughout the year, watching the young boy he came to realise that he didn’t seem to idolise him as he should, even with the Weasley boy stuck to his side all day. If anything he was weary and refused to make eye contact with him, and the few times he did he encountered something unexpected the boy had some sort of protection on his mind. It wasn’t Occlumency as it wasn’t any sort of shield it was more of he just couldn’t read the boys mind. Perhaps Lily had more tricks up her sleeves than expected. She was always very bright, it's probably a good thing she died when she did, he wasn't sure Magical Britain could handle a progressive, competent, influential, and worst of all, powerful muggleborn woman in the long term.
He also wondered if it wasn’t Lilly’s work if it was a result of the scar, one that looked much healthier than he thought it would, it was almost as if it was healing. Which was impossible after all it was the result of a dark curse, and if his suspicion was correct (which he was sure of) something much sinister, but perhaps that was because he was not as knowledgeable as he should be on the subject.
Still it seemed that young Harry was not as pliable as he hoped and he was beginning to test the lad to make sure he didn’t have a second Tom on his hands.
Luckily during christmas the boy had not gone home, and he had used that time to give him back his father’s cloak. How it had stung to part with one of the Hallows but it was necessary, and introduce the boy to the mirror. Finding out that the boy saw family and not power within the mirror had been a massive relief. Yes, things were still on the path. Granted his woe’s weren’t limited to just Harry. There was also poor Quirrell, sure he had sent the poor lad off to search for proof that Voldemort had survived, with the liberal use of some simple compulsions and selective oblivating; no need to let Tom know he suspected he survived after all. Still he had never expected the average wizard to accomplish the mission let alone survive the encounter. So when he came back with a stutter and fear of vampires he had accepted that he had simply failed and that he was changed for good now.
He had found it admirable that despite his clear fear he wanted to teach kids how to defend himself. So he had allowed his ex-muggle studies teacher to take up the Defense position, sure Severus had worries but he had waved them off. Severus after all did not know what he knew.
He did not know that Quirrell had been sent out to find Voldemort and was compelled to do so which meant he had tried to fight something above his ability and been traumatised by the endeavour. An innocent sheep that had walked the forest, and somehow came back to the Shepard’s hearth. Honestly the fact he came back at all was a miracle! Then it turned out that he had actually been possessed by Tom! The resulting conflict between Tom and the Boy had put to rest the last of his doubts about Harry, after all he had come out on top and fought against Tom. Granted to have Quirrell die was tragic and a waste of life, but ultimately his death had served a purpose. The most pleasant part was finding his corpse being burnt to a crisp, it showed that Lily’s protection was in place and working!
Still, he felt a chill at the result of said magic. What exactly had she delved into that would result in THAT happening to a man? It was clearly wicked magic and that foolish girl was so enthused and eager to wield it and lay it upon all she saw as hers; was proof Britain would not have survived her, that and also the kind of thing that would keep him awake at night. Or would have, if not for the lavender scented pineapple flavoured sleep potions that Dumbledore had created when he was only twenty. Probably one of his best inventions yet. He had slept like a baby most of his long life.
Dumbledore did not snap back to reality, as reality had a tendency to wait for him to deign to turn his gaze back on it, sadly now was a time for him to do so. He turned his focus back on the meeting he was actually holding, instead of reminiscing about the annoyance of his past few years.
Of course, McGonagall and Snape were arguing again. It had started with something about the Granger girl, something about grades? Probably? Yeah grades surely it was about her grades, after all a muggleborn doing so well? Why were the Muggles always causing problems? He felt a shiver he would have to keep an eye on her lest he have another Lilly on his hands. Seriously what was with these Potter men and attracting, and being attracted to maniacal powerful witches. Granted he supposed he didn’t have much ground to stand on after his fling with Gellert showed he had something of a weakness in that area, still his was forgivable he didn’t go after women. They were just unreasonable. Regardless they were now arguing about the Boy, which was interesting.
“I am saying that this feral bastard needs a proper beating, we should let Filch have at him. He has shown again and again that he has no regard for the rules, he was skipping most of our dear Quirrinus’s class, may he rest in pieces, as well as systematically missing all of Bin’s classes, may he please finally be put to rest. Along with whatever horror he inflicted on the wayward troll. The child is a feral beast that brews any potion he pleases, disregards rules, and he has been talking to my snakes, there is not a single year to my memory where my snakes have trusted me any less. He is doing something and I swear it will not end well if we allow him to go on like this.” He had to suppress a sigh, Severus while very useful was a bit of a drama queen.
“Be reasonable Severus, you are speaking about an eleven year old child who has done nothing to you, you keep holding grudges with a dead man. No child has grand designs for Slytherin, with the exception of Young Malfoy maybe, but the design is more moronic rather than Grand. Slytherins which by the by, have shown nothing but spite and distrut for things he had no hand in and for which he met their uncalled for hostility with noble nonchalance. Potter is a demure but brave child who has slightly higher than average grades in most classes even through hardship. Their unfortunate luck is a sad coincidence, nothing more.” Ah yes Minerva, ever the voice of reason, helping him keep Severus in line. He needed this discourse to distract his staff to distract them from his machinations.
“Puh-lease! The only good thing that brat has done is get rid of that useless and downright creepy turncoat that was Quirrinus. By the way are any of us going to question what happened down there? Or are we to assume that he just repeatedly walked into dark magical fire while Potter watched like a good student? Or is it because the child ‘killed’ the Dark Lord so now he can walk around offing professors?” Dumbledore wished he had some popcorn; this was proving quite entertaining.
“You… you utter buffoon! Your hatred for that family name is so great that even your arguments lose their thread! Quirinus being dead is good, you said that yourself? And as for the troll, between a little bit of dead troll or telling the Grangers that their daughter got munched on by a Troll that just happened to be there, or worse yet, being told to make them forget how their daughter died, I would slaughter twenty myself! Meanwhile you obsess over imaginary plots of a Gryffindor eleven years old taking over your Slytherin’s. YOU an adult wizard, losing control because of a child? How fragile is your hold upon your house? Do you not hear yourself speak? You sound like a drunk! Now, next time you dare even think about badmouthing my students or refusing them good grades over your eternal and childish hatred for a dead man who, mind you, saved your BLOODY life! I will grant you your wish and remove you from the roster of Professor by running my axe down your rotten pie hole?Do you understand me, young man?”
Dumbledore chuckled at the tirade the red face Scottswoman had sprouted. Women, unreasonable as always. He really felt like the patriarch to manic children here. Well it was time to get this back on track.
“Now, now, why don’t we take a recess? Many things that we did not mean were said in the heat of passion this last half hour and I think we all need a moment, and another cup of tea.” He ignored the twin looks of anger from his Potions and Transfiguration Professors. Whoops, he should have kept their anger directed at one another. He simply smiled and then spoke out, “Hogwarts Elves tea.” He was rewarded with a new tea set and he smiled as he took a sip.
He sighed as the glares continued. This was going to be a long year, he could already tell. Now he just had to hope that the Zabini woman didn’t do anything too… He blinked as an owl entered with a letter attached to its leg. He frowned and reached out opening the letter as he frowned. He felt the blood drain from his face as his eyes widened.
Inside was legal documentation of one Harry Potter by an Edelgard von Hresvelg (THE ZABINI!), and had changed her gender to female, as well as an article in the Daily Prophet praising the young hero for being her true self! This was the notification to update the school and worse yet, it had already been set in stone by the Ministry and Wizengamot archives, there was nothing he could do… NO this could not stand he could not have some Tranny FREAK as the boy-who-lived! His figurehead needed to be perfect. He got up from his desk and dashed to the fire place, it was time to have an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot. He had worked so hard to erode those heinous teachings of old about being true to oneself, it had to be as god intended it! While he had to ruffle a few feathers, he had managed to get rid of the vile blood magic practices used for such activities, which had been the first step to riding the isles of that blight.
He had the seat of power, and he would not have a foreigner walk all over his feet. He ignored the look of confusion from his pawns.
He had to fix this before it was too late.