Girls’ Changing Room – 1 – New Girl by Maeryn Lamonte – Copyright © 2021

Over two decades have passed since the defeat of Voldemort. It’s time for a new influx of students at Hogwarts, which this year include Luna and Rolf Scamander’s twins, Lysander and Lorcan. As is usual at the school of witchcraft and wizardry, things are not what they seem. With apologies for applying a considerable amount of artistic license to these (and other) characters, let the adventure begin.

-oOo-

Professor Minerva McGonagall looked up from the pile of correspondence on her desk and let out a heartfelt sigh. The Ministry of Magic had been a bunch of incompetent buffoons while You-know-who was alive. It now seemed they had the full intention of filling the vacuum formed by his passing with new and ever more inventive ways of interfering with life. Kingsley Shacklebolt was in almost every way a better Minister for Magic than Cornelius Fudge had ever been, but unfortunately that included his capacity for generating red tape.

Minerva stood slowly and eased her aching bones over to the window, as much to give her eyes and brain a rest as to allow her blood pressure a chance to settle. She didn’t much care for her office — it was too large and too far removed from the everyday running of the school — but it had its perks, one of which was the view.

The highest of the nested turrets that made up the headmaster’s office possessed a window that looked out over the lake. Within its scope, to the right, the panorama reached across the castle towards the forbidden forest. Of all the many views Hogwarts had to offer, this was her favourite, and it never failed to calm her.

She caught sight of three figures walking down the path from the forest towards the covered bridge. The Hogwarts’ Express wasn't due for a couple of hours yet, so why anyone should be on school grounds at this hour was beyond her.

Two children, her keen eyes informed her — the degree to which they resembled each other evident even from this distance, so most likely twins — and one adult, a woman with strikingly pale hair and an oddly familiar distracted manner about her.

For once Minerva had no need of her mind's automatic filing system. It must have been fourteen years since she'd last laid eyes on the young lady, but certain students you couldn't help but remember, especially those who had been present during such turbulent times. Minerva hurried out of her office, the Ministry correspondence momentarily forgotten.

The staircase down from the headmaster’s office was long, though, and genuine hurrying a luxury for younger bones. It took her some minutes to make her way down to the courtyard in front of the clock-tower entrance, by which time her visitors had arrived. The young — well everyone was young these days — woman crouched beside her children pointing up at the massive mechanism. Her two boys — identical in every way except their manner — followed her finger with their gaze, one with genuine interest, the other with a somewhat sullen and distracted air.

"Luna Lovegood Scamander!" Minerva managed to speak the whole name without losing her smile. She wasn’t sure she approved of this practice among younger people of combining surnames, but life was change. If you didn’t allow for that, you’d ossify, and fossils had no place in a living world, except maybe as relics of the past.

Perhaps that’s what she had become — a dusty souvenir of a time long gone. A memory to be taken out and cherished when time allowed. The last time she'd seen Luna was at her wedding to Rolf Scamander nearly a decade and a half earlier. Like every other young student of her past, she was getting on with her life, which was as it should be. Besides, running Hogwarts kept her impossibly busy, so where would she find the time?

"It is so lovely to see you again!" She completed her greeting.

"Hello Professor McGonagall," the young woman's familiar lilting voice melted away the years between them. "It's quite lovely to be seen. I'm sorry for the intrusion, but we missed the train. My fault I’m afraid. I caught sight of a snorkack with an unusually straight horn and lost track of the time chasing after it. So we apparated here instead. I took the boys to see the thestrals, I hope you don't mind."

"How could I possibly mind?" The professor's elderly face creased even further into its rare smile. "But I do wish you'd call me Minerva."

"Well you are still a professor, aren't you? So I think I'd rather not."

It was just Luna's way. The two women embraced briefly, then Minerva rather courageously crouched down to look at the two boys. She would probably need her wand to pull herself upright again, but there were some things you just had to do.

"So which of you is Lorcan and which is Lysander?" She asked, recalling their names from the enrolment forms. She'd been expecting the twins of course, but seeing Luna as well was a surprise bonus, not to be wasted, but that didn't mean she should ignore the two new arrivals.

“I’m Lysander,” the brighter of the two piped up. “This is Lorcan. He’s my younger brother.”

“By twelve minutes,” Lorcan grumbled.

“Twelve minutes is still twelve minutes,” Lysander said cheerfully. “Don't mind him, he's always like this. That clock is amazing!”

Minerva’s attention had been captured by the younger of the twins though. There was something about him, a deep sadness that was reminiscent of the pain she'd once seen in Luna’s eyes.

“It doesn't interest you at all though does it?” she asked Lorcan.

The young boy held the professor's eye for a moment before shrugging and drifting off to gaze into the ruined fountain. The school had decided not to repair it after the Battle for Hogwarts, preferring to leave it as a reminder of the event and a memorial to those who'd given their lives that day. It held a pool of still water in which a few hardy fish continued to survive.

Luna offered a hand which Minerva gratefully accepted, raising herself back upright without the assistance of magic for once.

"He reminds me of you when you first came to the school," the elderly professor said.

"I know what you mean, but it's not the same. He couldn't see them — the thestrals I mean."

Luna had, at a young age, watched her mother die when one of her magical experiments went horribly wrong. It was said that only those who had witnessed death, particularly of someone close, could see the otherwise invisible creatures.

"He still has a haunted look about him. Hag-ridden they used to call it."

"How is Hagrid?" Luna asked in a not quite non sequitur.

"Oh, much the same as usual. Getting older as are we all. He'll be heading down to Hogsmeade shortly, to meet the first-years off the train."

"I was hoping he might take the boys with him. That first ride across the Black Lake is quite magical and I wouldn't want them to miss it."

"I'm sure he'd be delighted. Why don't we walk down to his hut? It's only a little way, and I could do with the fresh air and exercise."

Luna gathered her boys, Lysander, who was altogether too close to the great swinging pendulum for her liking and Lorcan, lost as ever in his own reflection in the still water. Together they made their way across the covered bridge — which had been rebuilt after the final battle — and down the hill towards Hagrid's modest home.

"Headmistress. An unexpected pleasure." Hagrid met them at the door. "And Luna Lovegood, as I live and breathe! Come on in. Excuse the mess. Oh, and who might these fine young men be?"

Introductions were made once Professor McGonagall had chided Hagrid for using her title. She preferred professor, feeling that headmistress somehow held less gravitas. Then Luna made her request, bringing a wide grin to Hagrid's face, not that you could see much of it under his massive growth of beard.

"Well, you're just in time," he said to the boys. "I was about to head down to th’ boathouse to get th' boats ready for th' evening. Perhaps you lad's wouldn't mind helping me."

Lysander reacted with typical eagerness and Lorcan with equally typical indifference. It took Hagrid a few minutes to find the boathouse keys in all his clutter, but a few short minutes later he was heading down towards the lake with his two young charges in tow.

The two women headed back up to the castle, Luna taking Minerva's arm in a companionable way, that incidentally offered a small amount of support during the climb back to the bridge. Luna always had been wiser than most people gave her credit for.

"So, you're still head professor here," Luna said with her slightly distracted air. "I wondered if you might be ready to take a rest."

"The job needs doing, and there aren't so many who'd be prepared to take it on. Even after all these years, it still feels like I'm just filling in for Albus until he comes back. He left big shoes to fill and most days I can only manage by kidding myself it'll only be for a while longer."

"You're probably a better choice for these less troubled times though." Luna's words seemed distant and distracted, as though she were saying them while her mind was elsewhere.

"It's Lorcan, isn't it?" Professor McGonagall showed herself as capable as the young woman beside her of suddenly switching topics. "You're worried about him."

"I've always been worried about him. He's carried some hidden weight on his shoulders ever since he was old enough to know it was there."

"But now he's away from home for the first time…"

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I was hoping you'd keep an eye on him, see if you can find a way to help him."

"Of course I will."

"He's always found it difficult to be different. I've tried to tell him it's okay, but he always tries to hide it."

"How is he different?"

"I don't know. He's very good at hiding it. Maybe you'll have better luck at finding out and if you do, maybe you could take whatever steps you think will help him come to terms with what it is that's troubling him. I'd take it as a great kindness."

They arrived back at the clock-tower entrance. After a short, awkward pause, Luna spoke again.

"Well, I should be going. I have an article to write on a snorkack with an uncrumpled horn. Daddy finds it hard to put together enough good material for the Quibbler these days."

"I’ll walk you out,” Minerva replied, then as much out of concern as reluctance to see her former student leave so soon, she added, “How is Xenophilius?"

"Not well. Azkaban was hard on him. I don't think he'll ever get over the experience, though he insists he deserved it for what he nearly did to Harry."

"He shouldn't be so hard on himself. I can't imagine any parent acting differently under the same circumstances. "

"Harry told him as much, but it only seemed to make him feel worse."

"I'm sorry. Do give him my kind regards when you see him, won't you?"

The walk through Hogwarts’ labyrinthine ways passed all too quickly. They stood on the training grounds with the short path to Merlin’s Gate ahead of them.

"Of course I will. It was very nice to see you again professor."

"Will you not stay long enough to say hello to Neville? I believe he's in Greenhouse One preparing for the first years." She indicated the path to their right.

"I'd better not. We're both happily married now, and it would be a shame to risk confusing that with old feelings. You'll pass on my greetings though."

"Of course. It was good to see you again, Luna. Do visit again when you can."

"Thank you professor, I will."

Minerva watched as Luna made her way to the gate, drawing her wand as she went. She had barely stepped through portal before she traced a complicated pattern in the air. A moment later, her body distorted and swirled about, disappearing into nothingness.

-oOo-

It wasn't until some hours later that Professor McGonagall had her next encounter with either of the twins. Last minute preparations for the welcome feast had kept her occupied until they were all seated in the Great Hall, after which protocol dictated that the students be left to enjoy themselves without interference from the teaching staff.

Lysander's quick wit and inquisitive mind earned him a place in Ravenclaw, much to his delight, but the Sorting Hat had other ideas for Lorcan. First it embarrassed him by sitting silently on his head for a full three minutes, muttering nonsense into his mind.

"Hmm, a good brain — no doubt about that — but troubled. Then there's that to consider of course. Unusual in wizarding kind, but not unheard of. Too distracted to have much of a mind for studying, I think, even if you do have the capacity. You'll need friends — people who will be understanding and sympathetic and supportive. Well I suppose that decides it then…

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Lorcan's habitually downcast face lit up with shock and outrage. The entire hall fell silent as the young boy stood up and removed the hat from his head. He wanted to throw it down in the dirt and storm out of the room, but he knew how childish an act that would be. Instead he placed the hat gently on the chair he'd just vacated and walked slowly through the silence towards the Hufflepuff table. He refused to look up, neither at the teachers' surprised expressions nor at his brother, for fear of the disappointment he felt sure he would see there.

His fellow Hufflepuffs sensed his despondency and gave him all the room he needed. A gentle touch from one or two and a quiet, "Let us know when you're ready to talk," from an attractive girl his own age who'd been sorted five minutes earlier.

He appreciated their discretion but hated that he found himself fighting back tears over their kindness. He sat through the rest of the sorting ceremony in silence, allowing Professor McGonagall's welcoming address to wash over him unheard. It wasn't particularly memorable. Dumbledore had the reputation for adding a little eccentricity to the proceedings, but that wasn't McGonagall's style at all, so she limited her words to a brief welcome and a few essential notices before announcing the commencement of the feast.

Lorcan sat staring at his empty plate, ignoring the mountains of food suddenly weighing down the table. He sat in silence while all around him cheerful, if somewhat subdued, conversation drifted about him. There was a kindness to the words shared, nothing challenging, all thoughtful observations. It was restful, a little like being at home and listening to his parents.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" The girl who'd spoken to him earlier asked quietly.

"I'm not that hungry," he replied. He didn't particularly want to talk, but she was only being friendly.

"You didn't want to be in Hufflepuff, did you?"

Does anyone? The words rose to his lips unbidden, but he caught them just in time, aware of how hurtful they would sound. He swallowed and tried again. "I expected to go into Ravenclaw with my brother." It was a little lame as an excuse for his mood, but it was all he could think of at short notice. Maybe he didn't have the wit to be in Ravenclaw after all.

"Well, I'm sure the Sorting Hat had its reasons. I hear it's made some unusual choices over the years, but they say it's never made a wrong one. And you know, Hufflepuff really is a nice place to belong. I know you can't see it now, but I hope you will in a while.

"I'll leave you alone now — I can see that's what you want — but if ever you want to talk, just come and find me. I'm Anneka, Anneka Peasbottom."

"Lorcan Scamander," Lorcan replied, taking her offered hand. He felt like he owed her something more. "And thank you for trying. It's just… I don't know, just too much right now."

He’d slipped out of the hall a short while later, and so had missed Professor McGonagall's final announcement ending the feast and sending the first years off to their dorms with their house prefects. It wasn't until some hours later as Minerva was taking a late night stroll around the castle that she noticed the figure sitting by the ruined fountain.

She pursed her lips and armed herself with a few choice rebukes. A student out of bed on the first night of term was not a good start. As she approached, she recognised the familiar features and softened her expression.

"Lorcan?"

The boy continued to stare at the water, but he couldn't not respond, "Why Hufflepuff?" He asked. "Could things be any worse?"

"There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff!" Minerva bristled at the suggestion. "There's many a famous witch and wizard has come from Hufflepuff."

"Name one."

"Well, there's your great grandfather, Newton Scamander, for one. I doubt there's a witch or wizard alive would question his courage,"

"Then why did the stupid Sorting Hat put him in Hufflepuff?" Lorcan spat with outrage.

"Because for all his bravery, Newt's compassion for all living things defined him more.

"Nymphadora Tonks was another. Quite the notorious prankster while she was here. Not at all the shy, retiring goody-two-shoes you you seem to associate with Hufflepuff house. She stood as bravely as any Gryffindor at the Battle of Hogwarts — died as bravely as most too — but yet again the most telling thing about her was her kindness and humanity, the love she had for someone who felt himself beyond it.

"I'll give you one more while I'm about it. Cedric Diggory, the first victim of He-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named following his return, and perhaps the most popular boy in the school in his day."

"But they never seem to achieve anything!"

"That's not true which you'd realise if you took a moment to think. Hufflepuff embodies the values of loyalty, kindness and friendship above all other things, which means that, while your house-mates will compete in an event for the sake of taking part, they won't seek to win at any cost, and especially if it undermines relationships with more ambitious individuals from other houses. There is a nobility to Hufflepuff that transcends all the other houses, and it's all the more notable for remaining unseen.

"Now, perhaps you'd be so good as to tell me what are you doing out here, boy?" Lorcan seemed to flinch. Minerva's words had been gentle enough, she was sure, so why…?

"I'm sorry Professor McGonagall, I lost track of time."

"You most certainly did. It's past midnight. Come, I'll take you to your dormitory."

Lorcan stood obediently and fell into step behind the professor. He followed her past the hospital wing and across the quad towards a large tower in the far corner, but before they reached it a grinding noise caused them to falter. Minerva paused at the entrance to the tower and frowned.

“It seems the castle has other ideas for us,” she said. “The Hufflepuff dormitory is downstairs from here, but as you can see, we don’t have that option.” She pointed at the staircase which had shifted to block their access to the kitchens. With no alternative, they headed up.

The stairs continued to shift as they climbed leaving Lorcan somewhat disoriented. The top of the flight emerged onto an upper corridor which the professor followed as though it had been her plan all along. About halfway down, the wall to their right began to rearrange itself, bricks shifting and moving out of the way to reveal a door.

"Well I never!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed under her breath. "I've not seen that door since the days of Dumbledore's Army."

"I don't understand, professor."

"This, young man," there it was again — that slightest of flinches. "This is the Room of Requirement. When it appears it's unwise to ignore it. It is late, but we can take a few minutes." She reached for the door handle but it refused to move under her hand. She turned to Lorcan. "I believe it's here for you."

"I'm sorry Professor McGonagall, but I really don't understand,"

"This room, child, remains hidden within the castle until it senses that it is needed, then it appears to those who most need it and provides for them whatever it is they require. It provided Harry Potter and his companions with a hidden place where they could train for the coming battle while Dolores Umbridge was temporarily making a complete dog’s dinnerof running the school. To my knowledge it hasn’t appeared to anyone since then. As it is presently refusing to open for me, the only alternative I can see is that it’s waiting for you, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

Lorcan stepped forward and twisted the great looping door handle. It turned easily and the heavy oak door swung inward with barely a sound. The young boy looked at the professor who gestured encouragement.

“It’s here for you, Lorcan. Though if you don’t mind, I’d like to satisfy my curiosity as well.”

Lorcan nodded and stepped into the room with the professor following.

The room was large and, for the most part, empty. At its very centre stood a free-standing full length mirror of the sort you might find in a wealthy person’s dressing room. The silvering had cracked and peeled in places from extreme age, but the heavy gilded frame was well cared for. Words had been carved in an arc across the top in some bizarre language.

“Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi?” Lorcan made a fair effort of pronouncing the unfamiliar syllables. “Does that even mean anything?”

“The words are written in English, but backwards, and the spacing is in the wrong place. what it actually says is…”

“I show… not your face… but your… heart’s desire?”

“Well aren’t you a sharp one? The Hat must have had a very strong reason for sorting you into Hufflepuff rather than Ravenclaw. So, Albus, this is where you put it. I always did wonder. Very clever though.”

“What do you mean? I mean what is it? What does it do?”

Instead of answering, Minerva gave the young lad an instruction. “Stand in front of the mirror and tell me what you see.” She was careful to avoid doing the same. The last time she had done so, she’d seen herself standing beside Albus Dumbledore. It had told her all she needed to know, that she felt out of her depth without her old friend. He had run the school with a calm equanimity she couldn’t hope to match, and there were so many things about being head teacher at Hogwarts that she had no idea how to do. Still there was no sense in wishing for something that could never be. She desperately longed to have Dumbledore alive again and back in control, but there was no conceivable way that could come to pass, so she might as well get on with making the best of the situation. What cannot be cured must be endured, as her mother had often told her.

Lorcan, in the meantime, had taken his place in front of the mirror and his face had turned quite ashen.

“What do you see, child?” Minerva asked.

“Can’t you see?” Lorcan’s voice dripped with mortification.

“Everyone who looks into the mirror sees something different,” Minerva said. “The last time I looked, I saw myself standing beside a very good friend I lost a great many years ago. But I’m keen to know what it shows you. Will you tell me, young man?”

This time she’d chosen her words deliberately and subtly emphasised the last one. She had growing suspicions which were confirmed by a frightened squeak from the boy.

“You’re lying. You can see, can’t you? You’re making fun of me.” Lorcan turned and ran from the room.

Minerva sighed and, despite her best intentions, stepped in front of the mirror. Albus Dumbledore, looking no older than the last time she’d seen him, stood beside her reflection, his habitual smile shining out from beneath his half moon spectacles.

“Oh Albus, I do wish you were here. You’d know far better than me what the lad needs.”

She turned to leave, and as she walked through the door, she could hear the bricks rearranging themselves. It seemed whatever the room had set out to do it had done it.

Except the sound of shifting brickwork ceased long before the doorway could have hidden itself. Professor McGonagall turned to look and her eyebrows shot up. She thought she’d grown accustomed to the castle’s unconventional ways, but apparently it was still capable of taking her by surprise. Perhaps the Room of Requirement was responding to her need. It certainly indicated she was on the right path.

She looked up and down the corridor trying to decide which way Lorcan had run. Downstairs for sure, but beyond that it was impossible to tell. The stones told her nothing. With an exasperated sigh, she reached for her cat form. At least that way she might have a chance of following a scent.

Her nose led her back to the Clock-tower Courtyard and the ruined fountain — an obvious destination when she thought about it. She watched the young boy sobbing quietly, an occasional tear falling from his chin to disturb his reflection in the fountain’s pool. She moved in close, silently, keeping hidden in the shadows until she stood in his line of sight, then she transformed back into her human self.

“What? Where did you…?”

“I’m an animagus,” Minerva said, “which means I can take on the form of an animal — in my case a cat. It gives me certain advantages when following people and approaching them unobserved.” She sat next to her quarry and offered a lacy handkerchief, which Lorcan took gratefully. “But that’s not why I chose to become one.”

Lorcan sniffled into the handkerchief and quieted. He continued to stare at his reflection, but Minerva sensed she had his attention.

“Becoming an animagus is difficult, time consuming and, if you’re not certain of what your doing, extremely hazardous. You’ll learn about the process in your third year when we’ll also tell you all about the risks and drawbacks as well. If by then you’ve shown yourself to be exceptionally talented at both potions and transfiguration, you may be offered the chance to become one yourself.

“I was fortunate enough to have Albus Dumbledore as my transfiguration professor.” Minerva let her eyes lose focus as she gazed back into the past. “He was very much as wise as he was a gifted and talented wizard. He sensed I was carrying a burden and believed my undergoing the change might help ease it.”

“Why was that?” Lorcan asked quietly.

Minerva took a breath. “I spent all my childhood helping keep my family’s secret…”

“What secret?” The professor arched an eyebrow and Lorcan quickly dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry, I, I…”

“It’s all right. My parents are long gone now, so there’s no reason to keep the secret any more. If you’d asked me ten years ago I’d have struggled to respond, but there’s no harm now.

“My father was a Muggle, Lorcan. My mother loved him so much that she felt she could hide her magical ability from him and live a Muggle life, but when I was born and started showing signs of having magic, she was forced to tell him. After that they continued to keep the matter hidden from our Muggle neighbours and taught me to do the same. After my brothers were born and started to show signs of wizardry as well, it became my job to cover for them. By the time I reached Hogwarts, the habit of keeping secrets was so deeply a part of me, I couldn’t drop my guard. Professor Dumbledore felt that if I could step out of myself and become another creature it might afford me the freedom to relax.

“Neither of us was particularly surprised when my animagus form turned out to be a cat, since there is no other animal alive that embodies independence quite so well. Even now I only feel able to relax completely in my cat form.

“Now, though I'm sure our experiences are entirely different, I believe you have something hidden inside you straining to escape, and I'm pretty certain the mirror showed it to you. I think I might hazard a guess as to what it is, but I'd far rather you told me.”

Lorcan fell silent again and looked down at the still water in the broken fountain.

“I imagine she doesn’t look half so pretty reflected in this pool as she did looking back at you through the mirror.” the Professor said quietly.

The young man stiffened. She tightened her lips on the satisfied smile that came to her, keeping it hidden. She’d guessed right, but that didn’t mean she could afford to gloat about it. The boy — as much as he was a boy — needed careful handling.

"We all of us sense a difference between what's inside us and what we see around us, Lorcan. It's a natural part of life, but there are those of us for whom the feeling is overwhelming. I've already told you what it was for me, and the mirror has shown you what it is for you. Lorcan, there is no shame in seeking to match the two. Will you come with me now? I rather feel that the Room of Requirement hasn’t finished with you yet.”

Lorcan allowed himself to be led back to the same spot in the castle. The door was still there, but it had changed significantly. Instead of the tall oak entrance with its arched stone surround, a much smaller, more cheerful single door sat in the wall. It was painted a bright powder blue and over the top a sign read, “Girls’ Changing Room”.

“I can’t go in there!” Lorcan protested, then in response to McGonagall’s raised eyebrow he continued. “It’s for girls. I’m not a…”

“Are you not though? I mean on the outside I have to agree, but what do you feel in here?” She reached out a hand and placed it over Lorcan’s chest. “The room appeared for you. It showed you the Mirror of Erised which in turn showed you…”

“My heart’s desire.”

“Which was…?”

The walls were crumbling. It had taken time, but Lorcan was finally allowing his guard down.

“It showed me but different. I had long blond hair which reached to my waist, and a white dress with roses on it. My face was the same, nearly. Not a boy’s face, but me even so. It made me feel soft inside. But that’s just who I want to be isn't it? It's not who I actually am.”

“Are you so sure? This room is like the Sorting Hat and so many other enchanted things around the castle. It may surprise us with what it does, but somehow it knows better than we do what is best."

"But what if…"

"Lorcan, these opportunities don't come often enough to allow us the luxury of what ifs. It's frightening I know, and there are going to be doubts always, but you have to try."

"Will you come with me?"

"Much as I'm tempted, I think it's best that you enter alone. The room appeared for you, and when I came in with you last time, I disturbed you enough to cause you to run away."

"I wouldn't have understood what the mirror was showing me without you."

"If I hadn't been there the room would have found another way to convey its message. Lorcan, the room appeared for you, it changed itself into this for you, so I think it would be best for you to find out what it has for you on your own. If things don't work out and you decide you do need my help, I'll be waiting out here. After all, us girls do look out for each other, much like your fellow Hufflepuffs."

Lorcan gave the professor a hesitant but grateful smile, then trembling with trepidation, he reached for the door handle for a second time.

The room hadn't changed much. It was as big, but now, instead of the one single mirror standing in the middle, the walls were lined with them. Not magical this time, though it seemed wherever he looked Lorcan saw himself gazing back.

In the centre of the room stood a free-standing clothes rail, filled to capacity with all manner of girls' clothing., though there seemed to be neither rhyme nor reason to the distribution. Skirts, shorts, tops, dresses, a school uniform here, a party dress there. The only thing they seemed to have in common was that they were all in his size.

He'd never really considered dressing up as a girl before. For one, there hadn't been much opportunity. Occasionally he'd seen something of his mother's hanging in a closet, but for all the difference between himself and his twin, they still had a strong bond and he knew he'd never be able to hide something like that from Lysander. He'd been too ashamed to try before, but here was an invitation, a magical invitation no less. And Professor McGonagall had said there was nothing wrong in it.

He still felt uncertain, but at least brave enough to look through the clothes. He was alone in here thanks to the professor's sense of discretion. Then he caught sight of it, and once he'd seen it he could see nothing else.

It was a ball gown of the sort a young princess might wear. An intricately embroidered, close fitting bodice with dozens of tiny buttons fastening up the back and long, loose sleeves over a voluminous skirt — elegant folds of shimmering silk falling to below knee length. All in a warm golden yellow.

As Lorcan reached for it, all the misery he'd been carrying within him melted to wonder. The instant he touched it, the buttons down the back loosened and the dress fell from its hanger into his arms.

Until that moment it had all felt unreal, a dream he could never bring himself to believe, but now with the texture of the brocaded bodice in one hand and the smooth, almost liquid silk of the skirts in his other, he found himself finally waking to the reality. Without willing it, he arrived at a decision.

He looked around for somewhere to lay the dress safely and found a chair beside him. He would have sworn it hadn't been there a moment before, but then this was the Room of Requirement. He breathed a quiet thank you to who or whatever directed the room's actions and put the dress carefully aside.

He was less careful with his own clothes and may have torn off a button or two in his rush to strip down to his underwear. Wearing only his briefs, he reached for the dress only to find laying on top of it a pair of bloomers, a chemise and a selection of petticoats — enough to fill out the skirt — all in crisp white cotton and trimmed with the finest lace.

It felt like permission to go all the way, so with a furtive glance around him to ensure he was indeed alone, he stripped off the rest of his clothing and slipped into the deliciously cool undergarments.

The bloomers and petticoats needed tying in place with draw-strings, which was unusual but not complicated. In next to no time he had his undergarments settled into place and was ready for the dress. With the petticoats already billowing out about his thighs the only option seemed to be to burrow through from the underside.

It took all his self-control not to rush ahead, but some inbuilt instinct told him he needed to take care if he didn't want to crease the delicate fabric of the dress. Gathering the silk in loose folds, he lifted it over his head and slipped his arms through the sleeves. He had wondered if he'd be able to reach the buttons to fasten the dress, but the same magic that had peeled it open now secured him into it.

He'd never worn clothing that fit him so well. The weight of it all came as something of a surprise, but with the skirts flaring out around him it felt so right. He wondered if Professor McGonagall had felt half as complete the day she first transformed into a cat. It seemed incredible to imagine that anyone had ever felt like this, the complete and sudden loss of that immense burden was a release Lorcan had never expected to feel.

He giggled with delight, then giggled again when it struck him how long it had been since he'd last even smiled. The floorboards felt rough beneath his bare feet. He wouldn't quite feel complete until… He pushed his skirts gently behind him and looked around, and there beside the chair sat the perfect pair of matching boots. A slight heel — no more than an inch or so — fur lined and coloured to match the dress.

He scooped his skirts under him as he sat in what felt like the most natural action in the world. The layers of underclothes were like his own personal cushion. Smoothing out the full skirts so he could see past them, let alone reach, came as an added challenge, but with a little effort, he managed to pull on the boots. Again the room's magic took over and yards of laces looped back and forth through tiny hooks, tying his feet snuggly into place.

He stood and walked towards one of the many mirrors lining the walls. His reflection wasn't as pretty as that of the girl he'd seen earlier, but he still looked more like a girl than a boy. He could feel a certain part of his anatomy beneath all the layers, between his legs, and the joy that had filled him so recently began to crumble around the edges. So near and yet so far. He stared at his reflection and caught sight of the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. He so longed to see the reflection the Mirror of Erised had shown him. In truth he would have been happy enough to remain looking as he did there and then, if only he could be… complete.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," he breathed, so quiet he almost couldn't hear himself. "Make me…" But he couldn't bring himself to end the verse. Most beautiful would be wonderful, but just to be a girl at all would be enough. The thought of it choked him.

The mirror in front of him swirled and changed, rearranging itself to show the image of a woman in Muggle clothing. She had flame red hair and a long face. Her eyes seemed haunted with painful memories and her mouth contorted subtly from time to time with a slight, sour twist. She looked out of the mirror, seemingly as surprised to see Lorcan as he was by her sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?" She asked sharply.

"P-p-professor McGonagall," Lorcan stuttered. "She s-s-said…"

"I don't know who that is and I don’t much care for what she said. What are you doing here?"

"The R-r-room of R-requirement…" he tried a different tactic.

"You did see what was written above the door when you came in, didn't you?"

"Yes, but P-p-professor McGonagall…"

"What did it say?"

"But…"

"What did it say?!"

"Girls' changing room," Lorcan muttered.

"And are you a girl?"

"I…" Lorcan could feel the part of him that made him a boy. It stopped him from answering as he wanted.

"No, you are not!" The woman's eyes flared with anger.

"But…"

"But what? You are not a girl. What about that do you not understand?"

"It's just that Professor McGonagall said this was the Room of Requirement and that it appeared to me in response to my need."

"Well she must be mistaken mustn't she? Because this is the Girls' Changing Room and you are not a girl!"

Lorcan could feel tears leaking from his eyes despite his best efforts to hold them back. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried so much. He bit his lip to stop it from quivering.

The woman in the mirror's sour expression softened a little at Lorcan's reaction. "All right," she said in a gentler voice. "You look very attractive in that dress, and I really don't mind what you choose to wear. You can keep it for all I care. Keep the whole lot of it." She waved a hand dismissively and, as if in response, the clothes rack in the centre of the room vanished along with everything on it. "It takes more than clothes to make you a girl though. No magic in this world can change your nature. Dress up all you want, but you'll still be a boy underneath, and the sooner you realise that the better off you'll be."

It was more than Lorcan could bear. He spun on his low heels and ran out of the room.

Minerva had been fighting impatience, wondering just how much longer Lorcan was going to spend in the room when the door flew open and a streak of yellow dashed past. From the direction it took it didn't take a genius to guess the youngster's destination. Having said that, it should have been obvious the first time. After all the boy hadn't been at Hogwarts long enough to know his way around.

She was curious to know what had upset him this time and decided to glance inside the room before following him. The room had other ideas though, and before she could reach for the handle, the bricks had folded over the door and swallowed it. Nothing remained but a smooth wall.

With a sigh, Hogwarts' headmistress turned towards the Clock-tower Courtyard for the umpteenth time that day.

The dress suited him and he made quite a pretty girl, Minerva reflected. At least he would if ever he could be persuaded to stop crying. He sat in a naturally girlish pose on the side of the fountain attempting, as before, to fill it with his tears.

Minerva approached silently from behind and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. She was getting too old for this sort of nonsense. She could feel her bed calling to her, but she couldn't yet; things like this weren't to be rushed. In time the sobs eased and Lorcan quieted. A short pause later and he was spilling out his anguish, telling of what he'd experienced.

Minerva waited until he'd finished, then waited a while longer. When it was evident he was spent, she ordered her thoughts.

"Dressed as a Muggle you say? And since when did a Muggle know anything about anything?" She managed to speak the words without sounding patronising, which was one piece of headmastery that she had managed to master. One of the most important aspects of dealing with children, especially when they were upset, was to make sure they didn't feel they were being talked down to. "Lorcan, the room appeared to you, so you had every right to be there."

"But she said…"

"I know what she said; you just told me. But like I told you, there's nothing to say she was right."

"But if the room was there for me, then why didn't it turn me into a girl? Why did it just give me these stupid clothes?"

"For one thing, count yourself fortunate that the room responded to you at all. One in a thousand students it'll appear to, perhaps one in ten thousand, and here it is appearing on your first day. For another, don't be so dismissive of what it's given you. Like every enchantment in this castle, the way it works may be obscure, but there's wisdom and good-will behind everything that comes from such things. And for one last thing, it's called the Room of Requirement. It gives you what you need, not what you want. The value of a thing is best learnt by fighting for it, and rarely learnt at all from just being gifted.

"Now, it's late, so let me do what I planned to do in the first place and take you to your bed."

Lorcan turned white. "I can't go dressed like this!" he exclaimed.

"And how would you rather go? Stripped to your underwear, which unless I miss my guess is quite as girly as the dress you're wearing?"

"My clothes…"

"Are in the Room of Requirement which has shut itself away. Alongside that, when your mother apparated you here, she neglected to make arrangements for your luggage. I did send her an owl before the feast, but I'm not expecting anything to arrive before tomorrow. Lorcan, I doubt anyone is awake but you, me and a few of the owls. There's no choice to it, now come."

-oOo-

The trek wasn’t as long as it had been the first time, but it gave Minerva a chance to observe the child beside her. Apart from his nervousness, he walked with far more poise and confidence dressed as he was than he had at any time she’d first seen him.

Once they’d reached the entrance to the Great Hall, they descended a flight of stairs, tickled the pear in a still life to open the door behind the painting that led to the kitchens, headed for a stack of barrels in the corner of a storeroom.

"Watch," Professor McGonagall instructed as she counted her way up and along the stacked barrels to a particular one which she then tapped with a short rhythm. Tap tap, taptaptap. "Just think 'Helga Hufflepuff' as you tap this barrel. Be careful to choose the correct barrel and use the correct rhythm or you'll be treated to a face full of vinegar."

The barrel opened up to reveal a low, rough, earthy passage. It would be difficult for Lorcan to negotiate dressed as he was, but not impossible.

"The entrance used to be behind the painting we came through," Minerva continued, "but during the time when He-who-will-not-be-named returned to power, it was deemed a little too insecure, so we changed it to this.”

"Why don't you call him by name?" Lorcan asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know who," Lorcan said patiently. "That's the second time today you've called him He-who-will-not-be-named. Are you afraid of him?"

"Not at all. At least not any more. I just don't think he deserves to be remembered. We'll remember the dreadful things he did and learn from them, I hope, but if we can forget his name within a generation or two, I'll be glad of it."

"Who's out here?" A face like a withered prune appeared in the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. "Oh, Professor McGonagall, I'm so glad you're here. We're missing a student, and what's more we appear to have something of a complication with dormitories. Oh, hello!" The number of wrinkles doubled as the face turned in Lorcan's direction and split into a welcoming grin. "And who would you be, young lady?"

"Lorcan, I'd like to introduce you to your head of house, Professor Sprout. Professor Sprout, this is Lorcan Scamander. He's had something of an adventure this evening and I imagine he's very tired. I know I am."

"Oh my, an adventure! Yes, I can see that. Well best we find you a bed then. Only it's like I said Minerva. Never happened before, but we've too many boys. They're all full already, and the girls the same nearly. We've filled all but one, and that one has just the one girl on her own. Probably as well that, because half an hour ago an enormous rack of clothes appeared in the room with her. Filled half the room it did. Gave Anneka quite the fright, though she's all right otherwise. It's just that we don't have space for another boy and… Oh!" She stopped talking as a series of twos added together in her head, combining to an unlikely total.

"Who did you say was the other student?" Minerva asked.

"Anneka Peasbottom," Professor Sprout responded, still trying to work through the implications of the thought that had interrupted her flow.

"Oh," Lorcan started. "I know her. She spoke to me at the feast. She’s nice."

"Well that seems to settle the matter, at least for now," Minerva said. "Since you already know her and since the rest of your clothes seem to have decided they belong in her room, I suppose that's the place where we'll put you."

Lorcan was confused. "I thought you said my things wouldn't arrive till tomorrow."

"Not your things from home. Your things from earlier, from the changing room."

"Oh!"

"Unless I miss my guess, you'll find some appropriate sleepwear on that rack as well as at least one uniform. I trust you'll behave as a young lady should while you're sharing with Anneka?"

Lorcan didn't know quite how to respond. A nod seemed to be expected, so he gave one.

"Then I'll leave you in the care of Professor Sprout. She can help you get undressed and into bed. You'll wear a uniform tomorrow or the closest thing you can find. I'll expect you in my office after breakfast and then we'll see what's to be done."

With that she turned and walked back the way they had come leaving Lorcan with the cheerful Professor Sprout who seemed to have rediscovered her smile. Her eyes swam with unanswered questions, but she kept them to herself as she showed Lorcan how to hold his skirts so as to preserve his modesty while at the same time avoiding damaging his clothes on the rough passage. He followed her into a cheerful little room filled with plants and moonlight.

"It's a little late to do much more than show you to bed," she said, "so the grand tour will have to wait for morning, as will the questions. The dormitory you'll be sharing with Anneka is over this way. Once we're in the room we should probably keep quiet so as not to disturb your room mate, all right?"

"I suppose. I do have one question though. I hope it's not rude to ask."

"Well you have my curiosity piqued, young man." Lorcan flinched despite himself. It didn't go unnoticed. The stout professor softened her voice. "Ask away, my dear."

"It's just, if you don't mind me saying, you and Professor McGonagall seem so very old. Are you really teachers here at Hogwarts?"

Professor Sprout chuckled despite herself. "I suppose it goes with the job. Teaching has a sort of pickling effect, especially on us ladies. We don't look like much in the end, but we keep on going for a very long time. Professor McGonagall, as I'm sure you're aware, is the head of the school. She doesn't teach much, and old age and wisdom do lend themselves to the stresses of her job quite well. As for me, I retired from teaching a few years ago. Professor Longbottom teaches herbology now, and he's very good at it. He and your mother used to be rather close. I felt it was a bit of a shame things didn't last between them, but Neville always did prefer a settled life and your mum wanted adventure.

"I am sorry, my mind wanders often and quite freely these days. When I retired from teaching, the school was good enough to let me stay on as head of Hufflepuff house, which is something I can manage very well, and I do enjoy it.

"Come on sweetie, let's get you into bed. We can talk more tomorrow if you feel like it."

They made their way through to a large dorm room with five beds in it, only one of which was occupied. Anneka's blond tresses showed above the deep, quilted bedspread, but little else.

The professor unfastened the many buttons at the back of Lorcan's dress and helped him step out of it. He chose the bed furthest from Anneka's, hoping it might help her feel less threatened once she discovered who she was sharing with. While he unfastened the petticoats and laid them on the end of his bed, Professor Sprout hung his dress back on the rack and hunted out suitable bedtime attire, eventually settling on a white cotton nightdress, trimmed with lace. She held it up for his approval or otherwise and brought it over in response to his vigorous nod.

He slipped out of the chemise and allowed her to drop the nightdress over the top of his head. While he settled into what must have been the most comfortable bed he'd ever encountered, the professor hunted through the rack again and came back with a Hogwarts uniform. The cloak was trimmed in Hufflepuff yellow. The blouse wasn't much different from a boys shirt, apart from the buttons being on the opposite side and the collar being slightly smaller and rounder. There the similarities ended though. From the waist down, instead of trousers and socks, he had a knee length black skirt to look forward to along with a pair of dark tights and a pair of patent leather t-bar shoes.

He shrugged. Having climbed into bed, all he could think of was sleep. The clothes he would have to wear the next day, along with the issues they would raise, were a problem for the morning. He opened his mouth wide in a decidedly unladylike yawn and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.