Miss Hogwarts

Miss Hogwarts

Chapter Ten
All That Hair

I’m a girl and by me that’s only great!
I am proud that my silhouette is curvy
That I walk with a sweet and girlish gait
With my hips kind of swivelly and swervy.
I adore being dressed in something frilly
When my date comes to get me at my place.
Out I go with my Joe or John or Billy
Like a filly who is ready for the race!
When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
I float as the clouds on air do,
I enjoy being a girl!

Harry was late for breakfast on Halloween morning, a few hours before Miss Hogwarts would begin. Ginny, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him anxiously—Ginny was practically pacing the floor. When he rushed into the Great Hall, sprinting, Ginny immediately asked, “Where have you been?”

“Quick owl,” Harry said, sitting down beside Ron. “Sorry—did I miss anything?”

“No,” said Ginny, taking a seat herself. She pushed a plate of bacon in front of him. “Eat.”

After three years of competing in Quidditch and a year in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had learned to anticipate his lack of appetite on breakfast before a match. This morning was no exception.

Harry shook his head helplessly. So did Ron.

Ron, it seemed, was on a fast as well. He wasn’t speaking much. In fact, he was staring at empty space. Harry was right in suspecting that Ron was going to get the nerves on the day of Miss Hogwarts itself. This only made him more nervous.

“Honestly,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You’re prepared.” She peered into the two boys’ faces. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, we are,” Harry managed to say. “Just nerves.”

Ginny was looking at his face, too. “Are you really okay?” she asked firmly.

“I won’t be if you keep asking me that.”

Harry saw Ginny look at something behind him. He turned around and saw Hermione staring at them wide-eyed.

“We’ve made up,” the two of them said at the same time. They glanced at each other and Ginny ducked her head.

“Oh, good,” Hermione said, a self-satisfied smile on her face.

Ginny let out a sigh. “Look, Harry,” she said, her voice reverting to a this-means-business tone. “I have to see you and Ron after classes so we can practice one last time. Then we’ll put on your makeup and do your hair.”

Harry found himself swallowing. He knew it would all come down to this, but the very thought of it made him wince, to say the least.

“I can’t help you much,” Hermione said. “We have to decorate the stage and make a makeshift backstage. I’ll drop by to see how you are doing, though.”

“I’ll meet you right after classes in the common room,” Harry told Ginny.

“All right,” Ginny said, nodding. “Then afterwards, take a shower, brush your teeth thoroughly, remove any facial hair—”

“They don’t even show much,” Harry interrupted, touching his upper lip.

“Even so,” Ginny said. “We have to keep your face—and every visible part of your body, actually—really clean.”

Harry stared at her. Something in what she had just said seemed to unearth a hideous fear hidden deep within his unconscious.

And as if to confirm his thoughts, Ginny’s eyes fell on his lower legs.

“You’re not,” Harry stated, his blood draining out of his face.

The edges of Ginny’s lips were twitching. “I’m really sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” asked a baffled Ron.

Harry, however, was staring at Ginny in horror. “YOU’RE GOING TO SHAVE MY BLOODY LEGS!”

All the people in the Gryffindor table looked up at Harry’s exclamation. Ginny, immediately turning red, hung her head in embarrassment.

“Looks like they will be bloody after you have them shaved,” Fred remarked, grinning.

Ginny eyed Harry and went on in a low voice. “How do you think you’d look, romping onstage with all that hair on your legs?”

“Look—the ball gown is long,” Harry said, not noticing everyone staring at him.

“It has a slit up to your mid-thigh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that when I fit the dress in Gladrags?”

Ginny crossed her arms across her chest. “I knew we’d have to shave your legs then.”

“Well... why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you looked beautiful in that ball gown, that’s why!”

Beautiful. Good God, why did women have to go to great lengths to be beautiful? Ginny, still looking at him witheringly, waited for a retort with arms crossed on her chest.

“What else?” Harry asked flatly. “Arms, armpits, you’ll shave them all?”

“Harry, let me clear something up with you. I’m not going to do the shaving,” Ginny told him pointedly, although she turned even redder, if it was possible. “You do it while you’re in the showers.”

“Now that’s worse. I haven’t used a razor in my whole life, okay? Listen—isn’t there any spell for shaving?”

They all looked at Hermione. “Not that I know of,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s a potion though—”

“I’ve been looking around,” Ginny interrupted. “All I was able to find were razors.”

“You’re not going to use the Muggle type, Harry,” George told him. “Not those rusty ones Dad has lying around the house. They’re the magical type. Cleans really well.”

Harry slumped on his chair. “This is great. I won’t be surprised if everyone suddenly starts to think I’m a real girl.”

“Hey, that’s the whole point of Miss Hogwarts, right?” George said. “Who’ll make the best girl among you?”

Harry sighed deeply. This is going to be a long day, he thought, looking down on his untouched bacon.

* * *

“Back, place, front, place, right, place, left, place,” Ginny chanted against Heaven at Midnight as Harry and Ron danced in the middle of their dormitory. “Pull—okay. Turn around!”

When the last percussion of the music died, Ron released Harry so forcefully that he staggered back. Harry had noticed that Ron’s hands were clammier than usual. But then again, he was shaking a bit himself.

“You’re okay, but you’re stiff, a bit stiff,” said Ginny, jumping off Ron’s bed. “Just relax. Enjoy. Okay?” she said, almost beseechingly.

Harry and Ron nodded.

“We can’t do anything more here,” said Ginny. Harry noticed that she was twisting her hands in front of her. “You just need to relax onstage—enjoy it.”

The three of them looked at each other.

“We have three hours left,” Ginny said in a small voice. “I think you two better—er, take a bath now.”

Something heavy and unpleasant had slipped into Harry’s stomach. Three hours. Three hours—and he still had to relax.

“Right,” Ron said. He grabbed his dressing gown and a fresh set of clothes from his bedside cabinet; Harry did the same. It was an awkward moment. He and Ron did many things together, but not—ever—hit the showers. To add to that, Ginny was there, watching them quietly.

“Hey,” Ginny said, “Don’t forget your razor.”

He had unconsciously forgotten about it, Harry thought, as he took George’s razor from his bedside drawer. He had borrowed it earlier that day (much to the Gryffindor boys’ hysterical laughter). It looked like a Muggle razor, but Harry knew that it worked better, and there was no need of such things as shaving cream.

“Well,” Harry muttered, “see you later.”

Ron didn’t say anything when they got into the bathroom. He hurried over to a cubicle and locked himself up in it. Hearing the rush of water flowing out, Harry decided to get a move on himself. He faced the mirror above the basins (“Hi, handsome,” the mirror said to him), brushed his teeth thoroughly and gargled. Then he took a towel from a stack on one corner of the room, got into the cubicle that was the farthest from Ron’s, removed his glasses, slippers and clothes, and turned on the shower.

Harry looked at himself as he let the water run though his hair, down his body. So this was Harry Potter. Definitely a boy, no question about it. And as he thought about it, Miss Hogwarts would never really make him a girl.

For one thing, there was Ginny. And he wouldn’t be thinking about her if he were of the same gender, would he?

Forcing himself not to think about Ginny while he was staring at his naked self, he looked up and closed his eyes to let the water flow over his face. Then, after washing up, he took the razor and inspected it warily. Again, he asked himself why he had to go to great lengths as these to get Gryffindor two hundred House points.

And those orphans a home.

Harry’s heart softened, just a bit. He consoled himself with what he had been telling himself for a while now: It’s only for one night.

Here we go, Potter, Harry thought.

He started with his arms. What very fine hair he had on them disappeared. Then—Harry grimaced—he began shaving his armpits. There was something tight inside his throat as he did so.

When that was in order, he hoisted his right foot on the wall and began shaving his legs. But for some reason—probably the lack of experience, or the absence of his glasses—he pressed too hard, and saw the blood ooze out of the cut before he felt the stinging pain.

“Ow—damn it!” Harry let out a loud curse as he hurriedly washed his leg under the shower.

“Harry, you okay?” came Ron’s voice.

“Yeah—just this bloody razor.” Harry tried again, but he cut himself once more. “Damn!”

“You’d better let Ginny do that for you,” said Ron.

Harry thought about it for a while. Ginny probably had more experience, anyway—and he didn’t want to have scars all over his legs in the contest. Malfoy would love that, he thought grimly.

But then again, the thought of Ginny shaving his legs...

“I’m off!” Ron called out.

“All right!”

After a few more minutes, Harry got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and faced the mirror again, still dripping wet. “You look good,” the mirror commented.

“Thanks,” Harry replied sardonically. It was almost like he had a stalker inside the bathroom. He pushed his glasses up his nose, leaned closer to the mirror and carefully shaved the very vague shadow of a mustache and the small hairs on his chin. He didn’t cut himself.

Satisfied, he threw on a button-down shirt, boxers and pants. Then, gathering his things, he went back to his dormitory.

Harry found Ginny lying down on Ron’s bed. She immediately sat up when Harry entered. “How did the shaving go?” she asked, smiling slightly.

“I cut myself on the legs,” Harry answered dryly. Then he remembered that he was going to ask her to continue the process—Harry braced himself for another terribly awkward moment.

“Oh, dear,” said Ginny. She opened her mouth to speak again, but as though she suddenly realized what she was about to say, she clamped it shut.

“Um, Ginny?”

“Hmm?”

“Y-you don’t mind...doing it, do you?”

Ginny seemed to know exactly what he meant. She shook her head a little too quickly and turned her back on Harry. “Just go there—” she pointed to a chair she had placed in front of the full-length mirror. “And we’ll work on it.”

“This is crazy,” Harry muttered to himself. He sat down on the chair anyway, and looked at his image on the mirror, committing it to memory as though he wasn’t going to see it again.

Ginny came up behind him, carrying a small basket. “It’s interesting, how many of the Gryffindor girls have things like these.” She held out two bottles, one of which looked like the Hair-Growing Potion.

“You mean you went around the dormitories, collecting?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“Yep,” Ginny said. She flexed her fingers—the simple gesture made Harry swallow in nervousness. “Ready?”

“Go on,” said Harry guardedly.

Ginny cast a Drying Charm on Harry’s hair. Then, taking the bottle of Hair-Growing Potion, she squeezed a few drops onto her palm and ran it through his hair. It felt good, with Ginny raking her fingers through his hair...it was almost like they were back on the stage, and it was close to midnight after the final rehearsal....Before long, he began to relax.

“Why are you smiling?” Ginny asked.

“Hmm? Oh, it just...feels good.”

“Hmm.” Ginny put another type of potion into his hair and ran her fingers through it again. She was nimble and gentle at the same time. But all too soon for Harry, Ginny took a shower cap and placed it on his head. With a pleased smile, she placed her hands on the back of the chair and looked at their reflections in the mirror.

“So...what’s next?” Harry asked.

Ginny pursed her lips. “Well—I had assumed that we’d start with the makeup already, but with your legs...”

Harry saw his reflection turn pinkish. “Oh—okay. The razor’s on my bed.”

Ginny went to get the razor and looked back at Harry. She stood in front of him, but did nothing else—it was as though she was gathering the courage to say something.

Harry raised his eyebrows in a questioning gesture.

“Er, Harry,” Ginny stammered. “Your—your pants.”

Harry looked down. “Oh—right.” He was definitely red now. “Could you—turn around just a bit?”

Ginny obliged, although it was pointless—she was going to see him in his boxers anyway. But maybe, Harry reasoned, the gesture of removing his pants while she was looking was what seemed dirty. Harry took a good long look at Ginny before he stood up and yanked his pants down. This is crazy, he thought again, tossing the pants onto his bed. Sitting in front of Ginny Weasley in his boxers, letting her shave his legs—

“You can look now,” Harry mumbled.

Ginny didn’t seem to want to look at him as she sat down on the floor in front of Harry. She examined the two cuts on his legs, which had already clotted. “It’s not so bad, thankfully,” Ginny said. She took a little vial from the basket and rubbed its liquid blue content gently onto his cut. When she removed her thumb from the cut, it had disappeared.

Harry’s astonishment didn’t last long, however, when Ginny took the razor again. Without another word, she began shaving his right leg.

It’s not so bad, Harry thought. Ginny was able to do it gently, without cutting him. In fact, he almost didn’t feel the razor—it just felt like something cool against his leg. She began with the lowest part of his leg, working upwards.

When Ginny started shaving the part of his leg just below his knee, disaster struck.

At first he felt kind of warm all over...then as he became more and more sensitive to Ginny’s delicate touch, a part of him began to feel tight. Harry found himself sitting stiffly. When Ginny’s hands were on his thigh, carefully shaving, Harry felt sweat break out on his forehead. He was suddenly pushing himself against the back of the chair and gritting his teeth. Oh, God, he thought, panicking.

Knowing what he was about to see, Harry looked down—and covered himself with his hands. Not knowing what else to do, he stuttered, “Gi—Gi—Ginny?”

“What?” Ginny said in an irritated tone, as though he was interrupting her concentration.

“Could—could you please—get my pillow—from my bed?”

Ginny looked up at his face sharply. She seemed to have missed it—but she stared for too long...and her eyes wandered downwards.

“OH!” Ginny let out a muffled scream. She immediately shot up and tore her eyes off him, her face glowing. She stumbled across the room and grabbed a pillow from Harry’s bed. Still not looking at him, she threw it at Harry.

Harry was as tomato-red as she was. He put the pillow on his lap and held it there, wincing.

After a long while, Ginny stammered, “I-is it...?”

“It’s covered,” Harry said stupidly. Oh, that was wonderful. Harry suddenly felt that he was harassing her, even though he didn’t mean it.

He really didn’t.

It was...nature.

Ginny turned her face towards him, but she still had her eyes closed. She sat down in front of him again, and opening her eyes just a crack, resumed what she was doing.

When Ginny began shaving his left thigh, it happened again.

Harry discreetly wiped his forehead with his sleeves when Ginny had finished. She refused to look at him. All his life he had been embarrassed—in school with Dudley, out in the Quidditch pitch, in front of Cho Chang—but this was mortification in its fullest extent.

“I—” Harry cleared his dry throat, and tried again. “I’m really sorry.”

Ginny was looking for something that didn’t seem to exist inside her basket. “Yeah, well...it’s not as if I don’t...” She mumbled something incoherent, but Harry thought he caught the words “brothers” and “morning.”

Harry didn’t press further.

Ginny came up with a mahogany-colored box, which turned out to be the makeup kit. Inside was what Harry thought was every girl’s dream. It had dozens of colors, glittering and otherwise, although how the small squares of colors differed with the ones in the larger squares, he couldn’t figure out. The engraving on the lid of the box said, Charms and Magic: no-stick, non-erasable makeup for young witches.

“‘Non-erasable’?” Harry asked, dreading the answer.

“Just use the Erasing Charm to remove it,” Ginny said. “And don’t lick your lips too much.”

If would have been an innocent remark, but after what had just happened to him...Harry shook his head. He took a peek under the pillow—and seeing that everything was back to normal, he tossed the pillow off.

Ginny sighed in relief. “Take off your glasses, Harry,” she instructed.

Harry slipped off his glasses and handed it to Ginny. Despite the blur in his vision, he saw Ginny gazing into his eyes, as though discovering something. “That’s not fair,” she said. “You have such long eyelashes.”

“I do?” Harry asked, taken aback. Ron had mentioned it, but Harry didn’t really pay much attention.

“Mm-hmm.” Ginny smiled. “That will look great, once curled.”

“Great,” Harry muttered dryly.

Ginny didn’t say anything as she searched the basket...and came up with a pair of tweezers.

Eyes bulging in shock, Harry wasn’t able to say anything until Ginny cupped one side of his face with one hand and plucked his right eyebrow with the other— “OUCH!”

“Sorry,” Ginny muttered.

Harry spent basically the next ten minutes yelping in pain with every strand of hair Ginny removed from his eyebrows. When she finished, Harry reached out to touch his eyebrows, wondering if he’ll ever have them back to normal again.

Ginny took something that, for Harry, resembled a fat, flesh-colored lipstick. She began smearing it across his forehead.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“This? It’s a concealer. It works better than foundation.”

“Oh. Okay.” Whatever those things were.

Ginny was now spreading the concealer using her soft fingers. “You know,” she said, “I meant what I said, the time when we were working on what that Teen Witch article was saying.” When Harry gave her a puzzled look, she went on. “I really think you can win Miss Hogwarts.”

“Yeah? Why d’you—” Harry cut himself off when Ginny’s fingers began working on his neck.

Ginny simply shrugged. “You’re good at this. Yeah, I know you need to relax and all, but once you’re able to....” She let her voice trail off as she took the makeup box and tilted her head on one side as she looked at its contents, as though deciding what color to use. Then she took a brush, patted it on one of those larger, light pink squares, and brushed it on Harry’s cheek.

“You really think so?” Harry asked.

“Yep. Oh, and there’s another thing.” Once done with Harry’s cheeks, she brushed something out of a tube into his eyelashes—he didn’t think he’d ever understand what was with all those different kinds of makeup. “Never underestimate the other contestants.”

Ginny took a strange-looking device. She tilted his chin up. “Look up, please. Eyes wide. Don’t blink.”

Harry did as he was told. She fixed the device above one eye and held it there, and did the same with his other eye. Afterwards, she traced what seemed like a pencil somewhere there, and finally, she brushed eyeshadow over the lids. All the while, Ginny’s left hand was on his chin, and she was biting her lip in concentration.

“Why do you spend so much time with eyes?” Harry asked.

“I really don’t know,” Ginny told him, surveying her handiwork. “The girls in my dorm just taught me that it’s supposed to be like this. Besides, your eyes...” She smiled. “They’re really, you know, beautiful. Even without the makeup.”

Harry smiled in spite of himself.

Ginny then put lipstick on him, then another of a different shade...then she wiped his lips with her thumb and painted another kind of lipstick on them. If the situation wasn’t so awkward, Harry would have found the feeling of her fingers on his lips quite delightful.

Ginny stood up and placed herself at the back of Harry’s chair—and Harry gaped at what he saw. He was quite sure it was still him on the mirror, but he was—he looked...well, different. And when Ginny removed the shower cap on his head, and waves of long, flowing black hair tumbled down his shoulders, his jaw dropped.

So did the image of the girl on the mirror. Even though his sight was blurred, Harry saw that the girl was—he had to admit it to himself—beautiful. Her wide green eyes looked back at him in surprise. When he tried to smile, the girl smiled back lopsidedly, her pink lips shining under the afternoon sun that poured into the room from a window.

“That’s...me,” Harry said in awe.

Ginny nodded, smiling. She was brushing his hair and arranging it around his face. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

Harry tried to snicker, but he was much too preoccupied with his reflection. This couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t be.

“I’m not even an expert at this, to be honest—glad you like it, though.” Ginny smiled widely. “Time to fit into your dress, Harriet.”

Harry stood up, still staring, and started unbuttoning his shirt. The sight of his torso was quite disturbing, as it was under a very pretty girl’s face, but at least it gave him the assurance that he was still a boy....

Ginny helped Harry put on the lacy bra and the Snot Boobs. Then Harry slipped into the outrageous red dress, the one he was going to use for the opening number. It was sleeveless, and had a very low neckline and a hem that was longer on one side.

“Here,” said Ginny, handing him a fake diamond necklace and a pair of silver stiletto heels. “And there’s your shoes.”

When he was done, Harry looked back at the mirror and at his changed self. Unlike the final rehearsal, he now had long, black hair, breasts and makeup. It sure was a great improvement from his own self in the final rehearsal. He threw his shoulders back and lifted his arms gracefully, then smiled seductively.

“Good one,” said Ginny, grinning. “Your hips, though—”

Harry had noticed. His hips were slightly bulging against the dress.

“It’s the boxers,” Ginny told him. “You’d better remove them.”

Harry’s eyes bulged as he felt himself redden yet again. “You’re saying—I won’t be wearing knickers?”

“No!” Ginny almost screamed. “Just—change them, so we won’t—um, see it.”

It just had to happen that Ginny always put him on the spot. And regarding the most private things, too.

“Well—you’re not going to stay here, are you?”

Ginny blushed again. “No.” She made a move towards the door.

“Hey, Gin.”

“What?” Ginny whirled around to face him.

Harry batted his eyelashes. “Thank you, Ginny,” he said in his Harriet voice.

Ginny grinned and gave him a thumbs-up sign.

* * *

Harry looked so pretty that Ginny almost felt envious. His eyes were more striking than ever with the mascara, eyeshadow and the curved eyebrows, and without the glasses, they shone brightly with every smile. His thin lips looked fuller with lipstick. Dark hair suited him, indeed, and Ginny was right in curling the ends with a Hair-Curling Potion. And with his naturally straight nose and prominent jaw, Harriet was a stunning beauty. If it weren’t for his lack of curves and the slightly evident veins on his arms, he would have passed for a beauty queen.

With Harry’s Invisibility Cloak and his two other gowns slung on one arm, and her backpack on the other shoulder, she motioned to Harry.

“You sure you don’t need help with that?” Harry asked her.

It was difficult to get used to such a pretty lady talking to her in a baritone. “Don’t be silly,” Ginny answered. She resumed descending the stairs leading to the common room, but promptly stopped.

Ron and Hermione were standing face to face in the middle of the common room, talking. Ron was wearing a dirty-white long-sleeved button-down shirt tucked in black pants, and Bill’s black dragonhide boots.

Ginny was about to call them when Hermione began undoing the first two buttons of Ron’s shirt.

Ginny watched, amused. She motioned to Harry again, telling him to wait.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked Hermione, obviously flustered.

“Making you look like a dancer and not a waiter,” Hermione said. She adjusted Ron’s collar, then folded the cuff of his right sleeve until it reached only as far as his elbow. She did the same to his other sleeve. As she did, Ron was silent, but Ginny could see that his neck and ears were red.

“There. See?” Hermione said finally as she stepped back and surveyed Ron with a keen eye. “It’s much better.”

Ginny had to agree. Her brother looked...dashing. When he smiled at Hermione briefly, she thought Hermione blushed.

“Looking good, Ron,” she called out.

Hermione and Ron looked up. Ron immediately stepped back from Hermione. Hermione, meanwhile, flashed her a quick, apologetic sort of grin.

“Hi, Ginny,” Hermione said. “Where’s Harry?”

“Nowhere,” said Ginny, catching Harry’s eye. “But Harriet’s here.”

Hermione’s grin widened. “Where is she?”

Ginny saw Harry wink at her. She bit down her lower lip forcefully and swore not to laugh. When she caught Harry’s eye again, she gave him a nod.

And Harriet came striding in to view.

Ron and Hermione’s jaws dropped open. Harry moved with fantastic poise, his shoulders thrown back and one hand gracefully on top of the other in front of him. Ginny let him pass, and Harry descended the stairs in a sideways manner, not keeping his eyes off Ron and Hermione.

Harry approached the two and smiled. “I’m ready,” he said in his signature girl voice. Ginny was grinning from ear to ear now, extremely proud of her creation.

Ron and Hermione were still looking at Harry disbelievingly. “How—did you—?” Ron sputtered.

Harry tossed his head to flip his hair over his shoulders. “It comes out naturally,” he said huskily.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered. His eyes fell on Harry’s chest. He raised a finger and prodded one of the Snot Boobs. “How in the world did you get these?”

Harry swatted Ron’s hand away. “You git,” he growled, immediately switching back to his usual voice.

Ginny laughed and skipped her way downstairs. “Harry wants to go to the Great Hall in his Invisibility Cloak,” she told Ron and Hermione.

“Oh I see,” Hermione mumbled, not removing her eyes from Harry.

“So,” Ginny said, hooking an arm with one of Harry’s, “shall we?”

Harry put on his glasses and took a deep breath. “Here we go.”