Ta Tu Alainn

TA Tu Alainn

Chapter One:

Harry Drops a Bombshell on the Wizard World

Harry twiddled with a thread that had come undone from his robes. They no longer really fit him, and no one had taken it to account that they hung loosely upon his small, lithe frame. The year had been hectic, secretive, and, above all, stressful for the boy sitting in the empty Transfiguration classroom. McGonagall had gone to explain another detention to the Headmaster, and had said she'd be back shortly. Her absence only made Harry less comfortable, and more fidgety. It had not been he, after all, who called the meeting.

Harry glanced at the door, lost in nervous thought. At least Ron and Hermione cared enough for him that he knew they wouldn't be angry. They may be glad it was out in the open. Whatever reaction, Harry just hoped they wouldn't be freaked out. He knew Hermione would try to remain compassionate, and understanding, but that sometimes she couldn't help but make a joke at what he was. They were worried when he had stopped coming to meals, and they got desperate when he couldn't sleep. Hermione had been more perceptive than Ron, and had noticed right away when he immersed himself so completely in his studies. She also was careful of the fact that he made rather random mistakes, like sitting at the Hufflepuff table and going on to Justin Finch-Fletchly for an entire minute before looking up and realizing it wasn't Ron. So they had gone to McGonagall. Part of Harry was relieved; part of him was a bit annoyed. After all, now he would have an adult's advice, and could move on with that part of his life. He wouldn't have to plan it all himself.

McGonagall came in, all in a huff because she had finally had to give Fred and George a detention for fooling around in her class. She looked a bit confused as to why Harry was there, so he reminded her.

"You asked to see me, Professor?"

"Ah, yes, that matter." She paused for a bit, trying to think how to explain it to him. Harry also sensed this.

"Ron and Hermione wanted me to see you." Harry gently prodded.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Potter." McGonagall sat down slowly. "They are really concerned for your health. Allow me to be frank: you don't look good. Neither of them thinks they could ever really guess what was wrong, other than You-Know-Who's return, but you weren't like this during the summer, so they don't think its that. Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

"Erm, I still don't really know what to tell you. You'll be the first one to know . . . " McGonagall allowed him some thinking space. "God, you never hear about how to tell someone something like this." There was another pause after Harry had smirked at the irony a little. "I'm . . . gay."

There was an awkward silence. Harry was starting to shiver uncontrollably, trembling with the fear that, just maybe, McGonagall wouldn't understand. In turn, the woman sitting across from him scrutinized the best student (apart from Hermione, of course) in the school. Only Harry was able to take all three years worth of training in the span of one hard, grueling year and still excel. She couldn't begin to think how much of a disaster this would be to the wizard world. Yet another promising wizard family would be wiped out, his blood would not be passed on. And, as he was famous, this would create a problem, because homophobic wizards would target him for harassment, and prejudice. She noticed how the boy was getting exceedingly uncomfortable, and was just trying to think of what to say to that when he broke the awkward silence.

"Do you hate me now?" He asked timidly, much like a four-year-old boy asks of his mother after he breaks her favorite vase.

"Of course not! I'm a little shocked, I must say, but I really think you are making a big mistake-"

"What do you mean, mistake?" Harry probed.

"Well, didn't you choose to be . . . "

"You can't help who you love. I didn't choose to be gay, it just, sort of, happened." Harry explained, taken aback by his professor's response.

There was another awkward silence, and McGonagall broke it this time.

"You need to get this out in the open. Hiding it is putting more stress upon you than is really necessary. I know there will be people who won't accept it, but you can teach them. Who knows? Maybe you will be the wizard who makes it 'normal.'"

"But how? How do I tell them?"

"Just sit them down in a quiet place and tell them calmly. Granger would understand, and Weasley, well, he'd try, then grow to truly understand you. The whole school would know, you know how information travels here. But remember this, as long as teachers are around, the students can't hurt you."

"What about Snape?"

"Let's just say that if I give a talking-to to him, he won't give you much trouble on the matter."

"Thank you, professor." Harry said, smiling shakily and ending the conference.

McGonagall watched quietly as the star student got up and gracefully made his way to the door. She stared after him, apprehensive about what his friends might do when they knew. She knew that there wasn't a chance that things would go as lightly as she had made them sound; Harry had needed comforting, and she wasn't going to create more angst than he had already experienced. It was important that this was the year he would keep his wits about him. He would finish all the rest of the years, and travel the next as a spy and messenger to the elves.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, a riddle was being solved. A riddle of heritage, and questions. You see, when Harry had survived Voldemort 14 years ago, they had never given the full picture a thought. All they had registered was that a boy had survived the most powerful wizard in a century, and left it at that. There was no question as to why he had been targeted, or how the Dark Lord had found out where the Potters lived. They automatically accused Sirius Black and that was that. And they had never given a second thought to who the parents of the miracle were. They had made a huge mistake, and Professor Trelawney was determined to figure out what it had taken to provoke the Dark Lord to attack James and Harry.

No matter what the students and Professor McGonagall believed, Sibyll was actually a very smart woman (not as smart as Minerva, however, but somewhat smart all the same), and she had indeed had two premonitions. As a two-time seer, she had been correct both times, and had a knack for knowing when something was wrong. That is, she didn't always have to know right away, sometimes it took years, but she'd eventually figure it out. And now she was absolutely positive there was something amiss with James Potter.

James hadn't started school at Hogwarts. Oh, no, he had lived somewhere else before. Rumor had once had it that he had been a resident of Beauxbatons, but had moved to the British Isles once his parents died. He had joined in third year. The school had stared, and then he had found his place with Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew. Everything seemed normal to the other students, but soon, it was revealed to the teachers that Lily and James had wanted to be trained in the field of the Unspeakables. Hogwarts had a program that allowed select teachers to teach students in a profession if the students so wished, and Dumbledore himself taught Lily and James to think, act, perform, spy, and deceive like the Death Eaters themselves. They were also taught swordplay, archery, and how to swing an axe to their best advantage.

It was soon obvious that the two would be the best Unspeakables the wizard world would ever see. The others were all either dead or already on missions when Lily and James were called into action. They would have succeeded in killing Voldemort at that time, but Lily had found she was pregnant with Harry. She was 17; James had just turned 18. They were called out of action, but still had to hide their marriage and their son from both being smothered and cut short. Lily had prevailed in one thing, and that was saving her son, as Dumbledore had explained to Professor Trelawney, but all knew that wasn't the only reason.

Sibyll had only been to one Death Eater trial, but had once heard that the beautiful Lily needn't have died. Apparently, Voldemort hadn't known she was an Unspeakable. Either that, or there had been another reason that Voldemort wanted Harry and his father dead. Or the Death Eater was crazy.

Sibyll was, at the moment, in the process of writing a letter to Beauxbatons asking if the famous Harry Potter's father had at one time resided in their walls. It was one of the first steps to actually figuring out about the questions surrounding the Boy Who Had Willingly Pulled Out Of Her Class.

* * * * *

Hogwarts' most noticeable couple were presently acting very worried about their best friend. In fact, so worried, that they weren't snogging.

"Ron, do you think it was anything that we did?" Hermione antagonized.

"Hermione, calm down, you've already asked me this question, and my answer was that it would be highly doubtful. It's not like Harry stopped talking to us. It's not like he acts irritated with us whenever we speak to him. It has got to be something about the stress level of this year. You know how hard he's working. I just hope it doesn't have something to do with You-Know-Who."

"Well," It was Hermione's turn to be the comforter; "he has been having the nightmares nearly every night. But he has said repeatedly that it isn't the reason. When has he ever lied to us? Besides, if it were You-Know-Who, he'd be so scared that he would tell us. It has to be something unexpected."

"I think he really needs a girlfriend. If he did, she could distract him." Ron muttered.

"Like I distract you?" Asked Hermione coyly.

"Well, yes, but not on the first date. Of course, he would never be able to be the same gentleman as me, but that's beside the point."

"My, aren't we getting a little arrogant." Hermione scolded.

Just as they started to kiss, the portrait swung open and Harry walked in, shivering and taking off his knit jacket. He stared for a moment at the happy couple, then cleared his throat loudly and took off his scarf.

"I just knew you two couldn't keep your hands off each other for a minute." Harry laughed.

"So, how'd it go with McGonagall?" Hermione queried, as Ron was blushing red and a bit too embarrassed to ask himself.

"She was a very big help. Just what I needed, along with a nice, long walk. Do you two want to go out to Hogsmeade together later today? I have to explain myself." Harry smiled at them as he went into the next room.

"Did you just hear that? Is that the same Harry that left, or has he been abducted by aliens?" Ron asked, eyes wide and mouth hanging.

They stared in silence for a while, then went back to what they had been doing before Harry left; homework. Eventually, Harry returned with a load of books on Charms. Apparently, he had dropped by the library before taking his 'long walk.'

* * * * *

Voldemort stared at them with his Eye of Ire. All the eleven. They were all there. They frightened him. They were the ones who could overthrow him by one careless mistake. Their long cloaks were billowing behind them in a sea of multiple colors. They rode without tire, they rode without care; they rode without a horse. They rode with the wind as their prized steed. Granted, some of them had great white, ugly horses, but that was only because they were able to pillage the small villages which had army camps and steal the prized packs of rot and ride them to the core. Riding. Always riding. Never stopping. That was what they chose in life, and that was what they wanted. Nobody stood in their way. The aura they kept up while swiftly covering the ground was enough to scare one. Not only scare, but chill their bones. When they stopped, the great heart of the world got nervous, and nervous, and it progressed until the heart was actually what you could hear. Yes! You could hear it beating faster, and faster, and faster still, until it finally just stopped from overwork. And everywhere in a mile radius, no matter what it was, just shriveled up and took it's death peacefully, only to be overgrown by the great mosses of the Earth and into the fiery depths of the burning torture. Why would they not stop? Why must they keep riding? The questions remained unanswered. They were what he feared. He wasn't about to show it.

"Lucius, get over here." Voldemort hissed.

"Yes, master?" Lucius was suspicious. Usually his lord was more eloquent and dangerous a speaker.

"Tell me what you see."

Lucius looked into the great orb, and stared as the Eye of Ire showed him the Tormentors. He didn't know much about them, but he knew just enough to know that they never meant anything good.

"I-I see the Tormentors."

"Very good. You're starting to get better at not lying to your Lord." There was a venomous silence for a while, before Voldemort broke it. "Do you know what this means?"

"No."

Voldemort chuckled a bit at his servant's ignorance. Knowledge was power, and he was the conqueror of that knowledge. "It means that there is a piece of scum that has Sylphic Angelic blood in their veins. You must know nothing of them, but they are immortal, I can tell you that much. And they are a threat. A threat to all we hold dear. A threat to our work."

"So, are the Tormentors our allies?"

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "They are no more allies to us than Harry Potter or Dumbledore. Watch for them."

* * * * *

Draco stared out the window. He saw Potter, Weasley, and Granger walking out to enjoy Hogsmeade together. He envied their every move. At least, he tried. It wasn't like he could really control his thoughts. Whenever he thought of how much they had that he didn't, he felt a pang of sharp pain and would not remember conscious thought for days. He couldn't remember what he had thought of his father when he was little. There were no thoughts. Only darkness. And willingness to do as his father wished. Somehow his brain had adapted to the curse, and he could somewhat think for himself, but he dare not do it very often. His father would find out. If he resisted . . . his father would kill him. So he did what was needed to remain alive. He tormented Potter and all those who thought him a god. It was not his true nature, heck, he didn't know what his true nature was. He didn't care. He only wanted to live, and eventually, live true.

Of course, his father was never horrid to him. He just made his son do what he wanted, and why was that so terrible? As far as Draco knew, everyone who still had parents living were under the spell. Except Potter. His parents weren't alive to enforce the spell upon him, so he was the only one that Draco knew was completely genuine. He was the only one that was untouched by his parents, and could think and do whatever he pleased. Draco hated him for that. He hated the boy's innocence, and wanted to taint it with evil, just to see what would happen. But perhaps these thoughts were the curse speaking through him. He had learned to act upon them, apparently his father thought them useful. He didn't really know if anyone else at school lived with the curse. He didn't even know if the curse was rare.

"Malfoy, d'you want a chocolate frog?" Blaise Zabini asked timidly of him.

"No, I was just going to go to Hogsmeade to get my own. Besides, your filthy hands touched them, I fear they may be contaminated." Draco's words stung and he knew it, but it was the curse working again.

"Crabbe, Goyle, come on." The two Amazing Hulks followed him blindly out the door; devoted entirely to the way his father made him act when he toyed with his head.

It was overcast, nothing really special about the day. It wasn't really very beautiful, just a typical winter's day. Everyone from the school seemed to clear a path as Draco and his cronies walked by. Draco, in his mind, was forced to hold his head high with arrogance. He forced himself to strut, each footstep long and elegant. He was the one who owned the road. He was the one to catch everyone's attention. He went to Honeyduke's and turned heads when he stocked up for the rest of the year. It had stocked up to 20 galleons' worth of candy and sweets. He got a gasp from the cashier at Zonko's when he bought the 80-galleon map of the Ministry of Magic, including the people where they were at the time you were looking at it. It was what his father made him buy for him for Christmas. Draco shuddered when his father had informed him of what he was planning to do with it.

Then, after that part of his day was done, he only had to get rid of the thugs standing behind him. It was his job to spy on Potter and his friends now.

"You two get back to the castle, I myself have work." Draco snapped. The two stared dumbly at him for a moment, then moved after Draco gave them a push.

He had actually been following Potter and company around all day secretly, without the knowledge of his . . . dashing . . . cronies. Now they were headed to a fancy Italian restaurant. Weasley must be paying, thought Draco peevishly; he's been flaunting his money ever since his father was elected Minister of Magic. Draco followed them in after a few moments.

* * * * *

"Ron! This is so expensive!" Hermione hissed.

"Yeah, really Ron, maybe you should save some, you know, for other things."

"Oh Harry, don't you realize that I am? Its just that we have too much money, so dad gave us all a million galleons to spend as we chose, and I wanted to spend it on things like this." Ron explained matter-of-factly.

"Well, I still think that you should keep it simple. Really, you may need it for something else someday." Hermione antagonized.

"Smoking or nonsmoking?" The waiter asked as she came to seat them.

"Nonsmoking, please." Ron advised.

She led them off to a table in the center of the room. Harry undid the buttons on his knit jacket and hung it on his chair. Ron took Hermione's own coat off her and hung it on her chair. He also scooted the chair out and pushed it in for her. She gave him a mildly annoyed look; it seemed to say that she could do things for herself. Ron shrugged, and sat down in his own chair, and picked up the menu.

Harry smiled sadly at the exchange. He had come to think that he would never really have someone to worry and fuss about him the way Ron did Hermione. He wanted it badly, but he was afraid of being used for his fame. Neither had he heard anyone at Hogwarts ever just come out and say "Its okay to be gay!" He didn't know what other people would think, and he certainly didn't know any other homosexual wizards. Hermione noticed him, and motioned with her eyes that she wanted to know what was wrong. Harry put his hand up, as if to tell her that he wanted to wait.

"What're you having, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Um . . . darn, I haven't really thought of it yet. Maybe the lasagna?"

"I'm having the chicken fettuccini."

After the orders were taken, the conversation turned to a more lightheaded topic: Quidditch.

"Are you sure you aren't gonna come back to the team Harry? I mean, really, we need you." Ron pleaded.

"Ron, you are doing just fine without me, okay? You're a great strategist. I'm sure they'll vote you for team captain next year." Harry reassured him.

"Ron, really, you always tell Harry that he has to have more faith in himself, but you don't even acknowledge that you are a great strategist. You need to look at yourself. I mean, you're good enough to catch the attention of the school with your Quidditch skills. That was what you wanted last year, remember?" Hermione added.

"Well, last year I was different. Now, I think I kinda know why Harry's always going on about how much fame stinks, and I don't really want that."

"Harry would like it."

"Well, Harry doesn't know what the responsibility is like, so he really doesn't have a say in it."

"Ahem, Harry still happens to be in the room and at the same table as you are, but if you will excuse him, I think he will just let you two bicker." Harry bluntly stated as he got up from the table.

"Now where's he going off to so quickly?" Ron said, mystified.

Once he was safely in the bathroom, Harry turned the sink on and splashed water up into his face. He stared at his wet reflection, bags under the eyes and all. The stress was starting to take a serious toll on his appearance. His skin was pale, not its normal kittenish color, but his eyes were just as large and bright as ever, glowing, the only thing that remained to look healthy about him. His unusually long fingers were deftly grabbing a piece of towel to wash his face. God, he hadn't figured out what he'd say yet. He just needed to remain calm, and get his eyes set on a focus. They wouldn't reject him, he was sure of it. He took a few deep breaths, closed his eyes to compose himself. He didn't even notice when Draco Malfoy came out of the bathroom stall behind him. All he knew was that someone else wanted to use the sink, so he stepped aside and went back to his table.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked.

"Ron, you know when you're out on a date with Hermione, and she excuses herself for just a second to go to the ladies' room?"

"Yeah," Ron answered.

"That's what I just did."

"You went to the ladies' room?" Ron queried, excited.

"Hermione, slap him."

Hermione lightly slapped Ron, so as not to hurt him, but show him that he was being a bit too inquisitive about Harry excusing himself. The waiter had come while Harry was preparing himself in the John, and Hermione said they had just ordered the lasagna for him anyway. Harry thanked them, and listened to them banter for a little while longer. His nerves were steadily growing, his stomach getting sicker and sicker. Although, watching them was quite entertaining, eventually Ron couldn't stand it any longer and popped the question.

"So, Harry, what was up with you this past year?" Hermione lightly slapped him and gave him a stare that said he was too blunt.

"Oh, I knew it would come down to this." Harry whined.

"Well?" Ron prompted after several seconds.

"Oh, I don't know how to say this." Harry trailed off. His friends were giving him their full attention. Hermione's face looked fearful, and Ron looked lost.

"I'm . . . " Hermione looked like she expected Harry to say he was dying of cancer. "Gay."

Hermione gasped, and covered her mouth. Ron put on a little smirk, as if Harry was kidding, and said, "No, really, what is it?"

"No, Ron, I'm dead serious." Hermione still hadn't uncovered her mouth. Harry could feel the waves of shock and . . . what was that? Fear? . . . rolling off her. He could see her face contorting with such an emotion that had never been shown to any human being by her before.

"H-Hermione, you okay?" Harry tentatively made the first inquisition after a long and awkward silence.

"Its just, well, my parents were never really approving of gays." Hermione squeaked.

"So, are you disgusted with me?"

"I don't really know that yet. You're a very good friend, my best friend now that I'm with Ron, and you've never done anything odd like this before, so I don't think I should be. But my parents always pursed their lips whenever they walked by gay and lesbian couples on the street, they would always tell me how it was unnatural for men to like other men and the same with women, and they showed me where it said that gay men are sinners in the Bible. My friendship with you contradicts my entire bringing up. It just might take me some time to make up my mind."

Ron was staring ahead at the wall, dazed, as the information Harry had just given them was finally starting to make itself real in his mind. Harry? Gay? Those two words didn't seem to fit. He had been dating Cho Chang for a while, if he was gay, why would he have a girlfriend?

"What about Cho?"

"I was so scared to tell you guys, that I chose a girl to "have a crush on." When she asked me out, I was absolutely petrified. We were in private, I just broke down and told her what I am, and that I was sorry for leading her on, and she understood completely. Apparently, her cousin is a lesbian, so she was completely okay with it. We faked it for a long time, with her encouraging me to come out all the while. Eventually, we "broke up" because she wanted to have a boyfriend that wasn't checking out boys with her."

"Why were you so worried?" Hermione whispered.

"There are people like your parents that don't approve of gays. Some people murder gay people just because they're gay."

Hermione covered her mouth, as if in sorrow of what she had said earlier about her upbringing. She looked like she was about to cry, and Ron reached out for her hand. They held their hands for a short while, then released their grasp. Ron hugged her slightly, then turned once again to Harry.

"I guess this is more important than I was expecting. I think we should get our bill early, and leave. We all need a good night's rest." Harry suggested, with a small twitch of the lips to form the shadow of a warm smile.

"Yes, let's, I don't think I'm really all that hungry anymore." Hermione whispered.

After Ron had gathered up the check and they their coats, they were a silent procession up to the castle. There were sideways glances at Harry, who averted his own eyes and studied the snow so he wouldn't have to bear their stares full on.

"Oh! I left my purse at the restaurant, Ron, will you come with me to go get it? We'll only be a minute Harry."

* * * * *

Draco knew nothing, his mind was forcing his body to go up to the school and rudely tell everyone the interesting tidbit he had just overheard at the Gryffindors' table. Harry Potter! Gay! That would make him famous if he told the presses. First, he had to humiliate the young wizard by telling the entire school. He listened in until he saw the trio leave, then got up and wrote paid the cashier for his butterbeer.

He blindly walked toward the Three Broomsticks, his feet numb, apparently he wasn't able to think for himself at the time. The regular Malfoy 'I-don't-care-about-hopeless-weaklings' sneer was plastered all across his face. It was all he could do to stop himself, and he didn't even succeed at that. His face muscles fought it, pushing against the barrier that his father had created against his will. He wasn't as strong as the Gryffindors were. He was weak. He had to do what his father told him. Must obey . . . no other thought, only obey . . .

He quickly spotted his Slytherin 'friends' over in the corner closest the bar. His face muscles lost their battle and the smirk was back in place. For anyone who was looking on, it wouldn't look like Draco was fighting a losing battle. But he was. All his leg muscles had tightened and tried to run as the outward force was dragging him to his 'friends.'

"Draco! Come here, my boy!" A Slytherin sixth year hollered to him semi-pleasantly. Draco felt his eyes light up with malice, or glee, they were one and the same in his father's opinion. He slid gracefully into a chair next to a fourth year, and all the Slytherins listened in eagerly as they noticed the look on his face.

"You'll never believe what I just heard!" He said loudly, trying to cause a scene in the bar, or at least get a lot of Hogwarts kids to listen to him. "Potter's gay! A poof! There goes the end of a long line of rats if we ever saw one!" The Slytherins all howled with laughter, they knew they were in for a good Potter-bashing.

* * * * *

"So, Harry's gay, what do you think we should do about it?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I really don't think we can do anything. He's gonna be in for a rough time right now, I know he will, so I think we should be supportive. Its gonna be hard though. I mean, I'm thinking about owling my parents to see if they're okay with it."

"That's a good idea. I mean, think of all those years we were in the same dorm. Changing!" Ron shuddered a bit to think that Harry had chance walked in sometimes only to find them all either nude or semi-decent.

What Ron and Hermione hadn't thought of was that some of the students on the street had overheard their conversation. Now, a few more conversations about Harry's sexuality were breaking out, and more students overheard them, and they started shocked conversations of their own, and everything snowballed, and soon the Hogwarts Gossip Express was in full working condition.

* * * * *

Harry awoke tired the next day, but he was strangely at peace with the world. Ron and Hermione knew, so the hardest part was over. Now the only thing he had to do was tell the school, which would be a bit harder. He decided that breakfast could wait, and that he needed some extra sleep. It was only Sunday, after all. He heard the other boys getting up, moving around the room quietly, but he paid them no attention. He silently drifted off into a deep slumber, the boys none the wiser.

When Harry woke, he saw that it was only fifteen minutes later than when he had awoken the first time, and he supposed that by the time he got down to the Great Hall, everyone would be there already. So he slowly rose out of bed, and then a towel would have been found missing from the towel rack as Harry went into the showers.

The water was soothing as it ran off his body in small rivulets. It lulled his thoughts, and half of what was bothering him was off his shoulders. The other half he could examine and figure out for himself. He brought his hands up so he could see his palms. They frightened him. He was glad that he had quit Divination to take some classes that were more worth his while, like Wizarding Law, Magical Theory, Spell Creation and Enhancement, and an advanced history course. Of course, he was only reading up on these subjects. Next year he would actually be taught them as a college course. That's off the subject though. Under a closer inspection, Harry could see that rather than more lines being created on his palm, as Professor Trelawney had said happened to wizards as they grew, his lines were slowly rearranging themselves. They were forming a circle, right in the middle of his palm, outlining it. And he was starting to worry about his otherwise normal appearance. His ears were coming to a point, but for right now, his short-cropped hair could hide the tiny, minuscule triangle of cartilage at the very top of his ears. His eyes were greener and brighter than they had ever been, and there was a greenish sheen above them that looked like make-up girls put on to show them off. His skin looked like he had slept outside and the dew had come and kissed him, and was still there when he awoke, such was the glow. Luckily for him, he could hide most of this with his winter's clothing.

The only thing that really worried him was the fact that none of the other Gryffindors were going through the same things he was. None of the older students had shown symptoms like this. He knew his mother couldn't have been anything extraordinary, she was directly related to Muggles, so she had to be a pure witch. But it showed him just how little he knew about his father's side of the family. Could his father have been anything other than a wizard? The only magical people Harry had come across were hags, centaurs, House Elfs, trolls, and goblins, so he didn't really know what else was out there. He didn't know what else he could be. However, no one really seemed to have noticed that his body was starting to curve like the girls' waists had, nobody really noticed how much he looked like a woman.

* * * * *

The staff table was, as always, the quietest of tables, but not by much. The staff were already planning out what they'd do on the looming Christmas break. They were vaguely aware that the students had a new piece of gossip to chew on and stew over. Anyone who had ever been in a school would know that the children were excited. Minerva McGonagall was starting to wonder what it was, exactly, that they were gossiping about. She knew something that was sure to cause an uproar like this.

"Minerva!" She heard someone hiss. McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Ms. Trelawney?" She turned her head to the woman standing behind her.

"I need your help. I think I've uncovered a mystery that needs solving . . . and fast." This caught McGonagall's attention. Sibyll was never like this . . . she was always an airy-fairy.

"It's about our Mr. Potter."

"Oh. That. Listen, I really think it's just his business."

"What-?" Sibyll was cut off as she heard a silence go through the Great Hall.

Harry had just entered the hall.

* * * * *

Harry stared around him at all the faces of Hogwarts. He knew right away what had happened. Somehow, someway, they had figured out about him. Something had slipped, maybe someone overheard his initial coming-out to Ron and Hermione, or maybe Ron and Hermione had been talking about him while they were going back to the restaurant last night.

He felt his breath catch in his throat. A lot of the faces that were staring at him weren't happy looking, but rather some were disgusted, some spiteful, some of the girls looked like they were pleading that he wasn't gay. A wave of horror flashed over him, as the stares crashed into him, some with the power to knock him backwards. The mounting tension was starting to weigh him down, and his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of their gazes. He didn't want to face them about this yet. It scared him. He hadn't planned for it to happen like this.

"Is it true that you're a queer?" Ernie Macmillan stood up to ask. He had never been a quiet or patient Hufflepuff.

"Yes." Harry heard his throat rasp out the one word that would define who he was, the one word that would throw all the prejudice and hate at him.

The hall suddenly burst into a flying fight of insults and unfriendly laughter. Ginny looked mortified, and Harry felt so bad because she had been nursing a crush on him ever since the first day she saw him at King's Cross. Harry blushed red and quietly sat between Hermione and Parvarti, who didn't look at him. Harry supposed she thought that explained his behavior last year at the Yule Ball. Harry kept his eyes down so they wouldn't make eye contact with anyone. He didn't think he could bear to watch his roommates look at him with embarrassment written on their faces. For them, it would have been like changing in front of a girl.

"It'll be okay, Harry, don't you worry about it. They'll come around . . . " Hermione muttered from the corner of her mouth. Harry finally looked up at her. She seemed to be over her doubt of beliefs from yesterday. That or she was just trying to be a supportive friend. Harry was half ashamed.

Eventually the students stopped trying to insult him directly, and instead started to whisper behind his back. Harry looked over at Cho, and she seemed to be having a hard go of things. She had been so kind to him, she had understood. But her friends seemed to think he had used her, and were asking questions that Harry could only imagine were like 'Didn't you know?' and 'Did you really like him, or were you just dating him because you felt sorry for him?'.

The Gryffindor table found they had nothing to say while Harry was still there. The tension grew into a tumultuous cry, shattering them apart. He stared down at his plate. He felt like he should be blushing, but he didn't know why. He told himself that he had to stay there, he had to show the world he wasn't afraid of gay-bashers, and that he expected life to go on as it had before. But he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand that everyone was looking at him. He couldn't stand that people were talking about him. He couldn't take it anymore, so he didn't. He got up and left.

* * * * *

The teachers surveyed this scene, just in case things got really nasty, but after Harry left, everything died down, and Sibyll finished her conversation with Minerva.

"I wasn't talking about Harry being . . . that . . . I was just talking more about some help with research."

"What kind of research?" Minerva asked. Sibyll? Research?

"I need some information on Harry's father, James, and you were here when he was at Hogwarts, so I thought you could help me." Sibyll held her breath, praying that Minerva would help her.

"Alright. I'll help you."

They met in the library later that day; neither had any classes on Sundays. Minerva plopped next to Sibyll as a huge stack of old books fell with a tired clunk onto the table.

"What's all that?" Sibyll asked, letting her guard down for a moment.

"I thought you'd know already. After all, you are a seer."

"I wouldn't use my powers for something so trivial." Sibyll snipped, cursing herself for letting her guard down. They were still bitter rivals.

"Anyway, all this is stuff that was left over from James's life. I have his yearbook, an album with pictures of him in it, a genealogy book of the wizarding families of this century, and Remus Lupin's old journal. There should be at least some important stuff in here."

"Could you hand me Lupin's journal?" Minerva huffily handed over the journal.

Sibyll started to read, but eventually she had to do a translation charm so she could read the messy handwriting. She looked at an entry somewhere near the middle, where his third year started.

September first.

Today I went back to Hogwarts. All is normal, at least, with the castle that is. We have a new transfer student. His name is James Potter. He's pretty cool, and hit it off with Sirius right away. A funny thing about him, though. His fingers are longer than his palms, at least. I don't think it is anything really important. He's got black hair, I can't really tell if 'comb' is in his vocabulary, that or his hair has attitude. He is much more interesting than his appearance, and that is saying something. He refuses to tell us anything about his past experiences, only the fact that his parents are dead. He said his mother died from anorexia and his father alcoholism, but I really think he was just joking about that. He was laughing when he said it, and he didn't stop laughing for the rest of the ride to Hogwarts. He acted just like everyone did as a first year, nothing new there, and, other than the whole James thing, there isn't anything new.

Minerva was having little luck of her own. There were no Potters in the genealogy book, and James had been a pure blood. So she decided to resort back to the index, and see if there were any witches who married Muggles, and adopted a child who happened to be a pure blood, but that would take a lot of extensive research. It looked like this would be a longer project than she had originally intended.