ONE WEEK LATER…

I stand on Platform 9¾, my trunk at my feet, as I yawn, Mini’s fuzzy head sticking out of the neck of my robes. I produce the package and feed her a couple of locusts, chuckling as she crunches into them, looking around at the crowds of families bidding their children farewell. My parents… did not come. One of our house-elves dropped me off here, then returned to our manor. I expected this, honestly. They’ve never been affectionate, but… their only child, leaving for Hogwarts, and they didn’t even wish me well…

A large group of red-headed people, most lugging trunks and cases, pass me by, and, while the matriarchal woman fusses and worries over her gaggle of children, I board the train and, with a little effort, get my trunk stowed, before settling down in one of the cabins with my little familiar. As the Hogwarts Express sounds its whistle, feet pound along the carriage’s wooden floors, doors opening and closing as kids pile onto the train and take seats.

The door to my cabin slides open, and two children push their way in. One is a ginger with a sort of bowl-cut hairstyle, and the other is…

“Harry, hi! Good to see you. Do you… remember me? We met in Diagon Alley, at Gringotts?” Harry blinks behind his glasses, and then grins at me. “Max, yeah? I didn’t think you’d be on this carriage!” the red-head looks at me suspiciously. “Harry, you know this kid?”

He nods, and introduces me to his companion. “Max, this is Ron Weasley, we met in Diagon Alley too!” The name is familiar, and I raise my head in understanding. “Are you Mr Arthur Weasley’s son? The same Arthur who works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office?”

He blinks as he flops down on the seat opposite me, next to Harry. “Y-yeah, he does. It’s an important job!” I nod seriously. Leaning in. “I know, it’s quite impressive that the muggles have managed to do stuff that we can do without effort, all by using the technology they’ve developed!”

Ron’s eyes narrow for a moment, as if he’s not sure I’m taking the Mickey out of him, but I think he realises I’m actually interested, and relaxes. The next half-hour is filled with the two of us grilling Harry, who’d been raised by the muggliest muggles that ever muggled.  He obliges us cheerily enough, before Mini pokes her head out of my robes again, yawning and twitching her ears as she observes my new acquaintances.

Ron backs up a little, before I extricate Mini from the den she’d made herself and introduce her. She deigns to be petted by the two boys, her tail fluffed up and curled around her legs as she balls up on the cushion beside me. The sound of wheels squeaking across the varnished wood of the carriage floor. Ron looks out through our cabin door, then ducks back in, eyes wide. “There’s a trolley coming! It’s loaded wiv sweets and things!”

 I bite my lip, before digging into my pouch, Harry doing the same, and, as the witch wheels her laden trolley towards us, we pay for a bounty of pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, liquorice wands, and a host of other sumptuous goodies.

Mini sniffs at a few of the treats, but I produce a couple of locusts for her, as we humans dig in to our own feast. The door slides open again, and a girl stands there, bushy brown hair almost crackling with energy, as she bustles in, scooting some of our food aside to make room on the bench next to me.

“I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you!” she introduces herself happily, irregardless of our confused stares. Turning to Harry, she adds, “your glasses are broken, by the way.” She fishes for her wand, and I pull my own in a fluid, practised motion. “Oh, she’s right, Harry, let me!” with a swift flourish, I gesture at his damaged spectacles. “Occulus Reparo!”

As the new girl glares daggers at me, Harry’s glasses fix themselves, as if they’d never been broken at all. She huffs and stuffs her wand back into her robes and folds her arms. I look away, petting Mini as she nuzzles into my hand. Did I do something to anger her?

Out of the window, I can see the rolling hills sliding away as the train steams toward the Scottish highlands, and I slowly drift off, dozing lightly in my seat with Mini in my arms, Harry and Ron mumbling to each other, with the girl, Hermione, butting in every so often.

My eyes open and I sit up, Mini’s paws bapping me in the chin as she tries to wake me. “I’m up, Mini, I’m awake!” I smile and pet her, standing as Harry tugs a suitcase down from the luggage rack. Ron gives him a hand, and we exit onto the night-shrouded platform, lamps burning. There’s a lake lapping gently at the nearby shore, an array of small boats bobbing and clunking against a dock. The giant man from Diagon Alley is waiting for us. In his deep, rumbling voice, he introduces himself as “Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

As dark water splashes quietly, each of boards one of the rowboats, in groups of three or four, and they move by themselves, out across the glassy surface, towards a high plateau on the far shore. With lights shining from windows, the castle comes into clearer and clearer view. Hogwarts, the place I, and many other young witches and wizards, have dreamed of attending…

The boats moor themselves at the entrance to the castle, and we file up a wide, spiralling staircase towards the Great Hall, led by Hagrid, who leaves us to head for parts unknown, as a severe, prim-looking woman with her hair tied in a bun, waits for us. In a thick Scots accent, she greets us.

“Welcome to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall. In a moment, you will all be sorted into your Houses. Gryffindor. Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. And Slytherin. For your time here, your House will be like your family. Your achievements will be rewarded with points, and the House with the most at the end of the year will win the House Cup. Any rule-breaking will result in points being deducted. Now, follow me, it’s time for the Sorting Ceremony.”

I spot Draco in the crowd, and he seems to have made a stop at Goons-R-Us, because he’s somehow acquired a pair of large, beefy-looking boys with dim-witted expressions on their faces. He’s mercilessly mocking Ron, but Harry says something that causes Malfoy to back off with a sour look on his punchably-smug face.

We troop into the Great Hall, four incredibly-long tables reaching from close to the doors, all the way to the dais where the teachers’ table stands. Before the dais is a chair, with a hat sitting on it. It’s… not a nice hat. Battered, worn, and an unpleasant, nondescript brown.  Slowly, Professor McGonagall calls out names, and each student approaches, puts the hat on, and waits. Each time, the hat starts to shift, before the hat seems to form a kind of face out of the folds and bulges, and yells, in a booming voice, the House assigned to each student. Unsurprisingly, Draco gets booted into Slytherin so fast the hat barely even makes contact with his slicked-back hair. Finally, the Professor calls out my name, a few students after Harry. “Maximilian Vincent Darcy!”

I step forward, sit down, and the hat is placed on my head. Inside my skull, I can hear the hat’s voice. “Hmmmm… a Darcy? I haven’t had the pleasure of sorting one of your family in a while… let’s have a look at what makes you tick, yes? Hmmm… HMMMMM… I see, I see. Not a wizard, but a witch! Interesting… well, I would have suggested Slytherin, but your mind seems to reject the prospect… very well, young witch. Miss Darcy……”

The hat seems to straighten up atop my head, before roaring, “GRYFFINDOR!” As I remove the hat and get up, I can see Draco, his eyes wide, and a look of vehemence crossing his pale, narrow face. I take my seat at the table, a couple of metres down from the boys, opposite Hermione Granger. She narrows her eyes at my look of relief, but says nothing. The elderly, white-bearded man in the centre chair at the teachers’ table stands, holding his hands out, as everyone goes silent. He speaks, his voice echoing around the giant chamber, a faint smile on his wizened face.

“I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Welcome to our new first-years, and to all our returning students, welcome back.  I must warn our new students, the Dark Forest is out of bounds to all students. As well, the third floor is off-limits, unless you wish to die a very painful death….” He continues his speech, and I pay attention, not wanting to miss anything important.

The feast begins, and I eat mechanically, thinking over everything that’s happened. Mr Ollivander called me a witch, and now that hat has, too! Am I that obvious? I… I thought I was hiding it better. My parents might literally kill me if they found out; they’re already going to be violently distraught that I’m not in Slytherin… 

The feast crawls to a finish, and I slowly push my plate away, standing as the prefect, one Percy Weasley, starts to usher us up to our common room, across the staircases as they shift and rotate, altering the route we need to take. The portraits are filled with moving figures, former witches and wizards who attended Hogwarts during their lives. Many of them call greetings, welcoming us to the school, wishing us well and congratulating us on our acceptance.

Finally, after a fair amount of climbing stairs, we find ourselves outside what should be a door, but instead contains a portrait, with a large, matronly woman standing in it. She warbles, “Password?” in an imperious tone, and Percy responds, “Caput draconis!”

With a creak, the portrait frame pulls away, opening a hidden doorway into a large, comfortable room filled with armchairs, tables a couple of sofas and a roaring fireplace, a stack of logs beside it for fuel. Percy chuckles, “all your belongings have been brought up. Boys on the right, girls on the left.  And, boys, don’t even try to go into the girl’s dormitory, the stairs will reject you and you’ll end up sliding down on your face.”

I cringe a little on the inside. This is going to suck…either I have to spend my time here sharing a living space with a bunch of boys, or I have to come out and tell people that I’m transgender, which could be…  awkward…

I reluctantly follow Harry and Ron up and to the right, claiming the bed in the darkest corner, Mini scampering around the room yelping noisily, before I manage to scoop her up and feed her, settling onto my bed. Harry and Ron talk quietly, and the other beds fill up with more students. Closing the drapes around my four-poster, I lay back and stroke Mini’s ears, her tail floofing up around my face as she purrs. I can feel the events of the day weighing on me, my mind whirling and spiralling. I hate this…. Things have gotten somewhat better, but… if this continues, I really don’t know how much longer I can maintain my grip on my sense of self…. Somebody, help me…

I can feel my cheeks growing damp, and Mini presses her furry head against my head, whining comfortingly. I bury my face in my pillow, trying not to make any sound, feeling Mini kneading at my side. I’m drowning, and I have no-one to throw me a rope…. Sooner or later, I’m going to need help…