Transfem Golden Trio

Fandom: H*rry P*tt*r

Actually complete

Chapter 1: The Stairs

Hermione honestly wished she had more time just to explore this castle. She had just arrived at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry just that evening, and every where she looked in the castle, she saw so many amazing things she couldn’t help but be totally awestruck.

Hermione was a witch. That is, she could use magic. A bit of a shock, to be sure, but Hermione was eager to learn everything she could about magic.

Before long, she and the rest of the new Gryffindors were told to stop. They had arrived at a portrait of a lady who appeared to be singing. When the portrait saw them (yes, the portraits in this castle seemed to be conscious in some way), she requested a password from the prefect leading them, Percy Weasley.

“Caput Draconis,” he said, and the portrait swung away from the wall, revealing an opening into a common room decorated in red and gold. Percy led the students inside.

The room was rather cozy, containing several large couches, a few tables, and a large fireplace, which currently contained a fire. The windows on the other side of the room gave what Hermione imagined would be a stunning view of the grounds, but it was currently pitch-black outside. Two sets of stairs on either side of the room lead up to what Hermione assumed were the dormitories.

Hermione took all this in in less than 10 seconds, and her attention snapped back to Percy, who was saying, “boys are upstairs on the left, girls on the right.”

Hermione and the other first year Gryffindor girls stepped over to the stairs on the right, following the other prefect – a girl – who had up until now remained silent.

She introduced herself as Virginia Lee, then said, “before you all head up the stairs, I have a couple things to tell you. Firstly, if you check the notice board tomorrow morning, there will be a stack of guides to the castle on the table next to it. Secondly, at breakfast tomorrow morning, your head of house, that being professor McGonagall, will be handing out your course schedules to you. Lastly, the stairs are enchanted. No boys will be able to climb them. With all that in mind, any questions?”

None of the other 4 girls had any questions.

Hermione would probably have, but at this point, she wasn’t properly able to ask any of them. No, Hermione Granger was, in fact, having a bit of a panic attack. The reason being very unobvious to everyone else: she was, in fact, a trans girl. She had come out at around the age of 5 to fortunately very supportive parents. That summer, her parents had helped her entirely socially transition – however, as per her own decision, they had moved her to a new school. Once there, only the headmaster knew of her situation – and he had also been very fortunately supportive. Everyone else there only ever knew her as Hermione Jean Granger, an intelligent young girl whose curiosity knew no bounds.

And she would prefer to keep it that way at this new school.

However, Hermione was now very worried that these enchantments would reveal the truth. The professor who visited her hadn’t seemed at all aware. The letter informing her of her acceptance to Hogwarts had called her ‘Miss Hermione Granger.’

But now, it seemed as though she might be outed by something as ridiculous as a set of stairs.

“Hey, you alright?” a voice said.

Hermione looked up in the direction the voice came from. Standing behind her, a concerned look on his face, was none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. This boy was famous across the entire wizarding world for something that happened when he was but an infant. One of the most dangerous dark wizards who ever lived, had murdered Harry’s parents, then turned his wand on the child in his crib, but his curse had deflected, and instead killed the dark wizard. Hermione had yet to hear anyone actually say the wizard’s name – all any of the books ever said was “You-Know-Who” and “He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond to Harry, but no sound came out.

Harry smiled at her. “Nervous then? Me too. I had trouble paying attention to what Percy was saying.”

Hermione glanced at the stairs, then back to Harry, hoping for Harry to somehow realise and sympathise with her plight.

Harry snorted. “I’m sure the stairs don’t bite, y’know.”

Hermione might have laughed had she not been in her current panicked state.

Harry stuck out his hand. “Hermione, right? I remember seeing you on the train.”

Hermione nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Harry noticed.

“How ‘bout I walk you up the stairs then. Help you with your nervousness.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, thinking to protest, but again, she could say nothing.

Harry took her hand and led her over to the base of the stairs. Hermione followed on auto-pilot. They went up a few steps. They went up a few more steps. Eventually, the pair reached a door that was labelled ‘First-Years.’

Hermione took a deep breath. She had made it. The stairs hadn’t rejected her. It was as if Hogwarts itself saw her as she was – as a girl.

“Th-thanks,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” Harry said. “Like actually, don’t mention it. I don’t think I’m supposed to be up here.” He let out a laugh. “Well… good night, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded. “Good night,” she squeaked.

She watched Harry walk back down the stairs. She let out a long breath. She pushed open the door. The other 4 girls had already claimed beds. Her trunk was next to the only unclaimed one. She walked over, and flopped down on her bed.

Her mind was racing. The stairs hadn’t stopped her heading up. That alone made her feel giddy, her stomach doing flip-flops in her chest. But as for Harry… Harry had made it up the stairs too. Was the enchantment broken, maybe? Or maybe…

Hermione sighed. It was very unlikely, but Hermione let her mind consider the possibility that maybe Harry was actually like her. And if so… Hermione had no idea how on Earth she would begin to help her.

She needed to write to her parents as soon as possible.

Chapter 2: The Mirror

Harry let out a breath as Snape and Quirrell left. He slumped down, back to the door of the room.

He looked up and spotted a mirror. He grinned as he stepped over to it, expecting to see himself not being reflected again.

Instead he saw something shocking.

Looking back at him from within the mirror was a girl. He glanced behind him, but no one was there.

He stepped closer. The girl stepped closer.

He let the cloak slip off him.

He raised his left hand. The girl raised her left hand.

He stuck out his tongue. She stuck out her tongue.

He frowned, and she frowned back.

She copied all of his movements.

Ok… so this mirror shows you as a girl then.

A loud noise followed by Peeves’ laughter startled him, and he pulled the cloak back on and ran out of the room.

The next night he returned. He wasn’t sure exactly why. He just wanted to see this mysterious girl again.

When he once again found the room, he stepped up to the mirror. Once again, the girl was there. And this time, she was not alone.

Surrounding her were people, lots of people. He saw Ron and Hermione waving at him from just over the girl’s left shoulder. Standing behind the girl were two people. One looked almost exactly like an older version of him. My dad. The other, a woman, looked like the girl, save for the hair colour. The girl had black hair; the woman had auburn hair. My mum.

In the background were many others, all either sharing this feature or that with him or the girl.

He focused on the girl. She was the same height as him. Her eyes and hair the same colour. The glasses were the same, although hers were in a much better state of repair. Her outfit, unlike his own, actually fit her frame. However, on her forehead…

Harry tore his eyes away. “That’s impossible,” he said.

“What’s impossible, Harry?”

Harry whirled around. Standing by the door was none other than his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

“Professor!”

“I see you, like many others before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore paused. “I trust you have determined what it is it does?”

Harry shook his head. He had an idea. One he was unwilling to accept or admit.

“No? Well allow me to provide you with a hint. The happiest man alive could look into this mirror and see himself as he is.”

Harry swallowed but said nothing. He could not admit that what he wanted…

Dumbledore said nothing.

“It… it shows you what you want?”

Dumbledore nodded. “This mirror will show you nothing more or less than that which you desired. I imagine what you saw was your family, alive. Perhaps your friends as well. Am I correct?”

Harry nodded.

“Do not feel ashamed, Harry. It is only natural to desire that.”

Harry didn’t say anything. That part was absolutely not what he felt ashamed about.

“Men and women have wasted away in front of this mirror. It is entrancing. Difficult to resist. It shows you what you desire, yes. But it can also pull you in using that. Making it difficult to want to leave. And with that, you best be off to bed. The mirror will be moved tomorrow morning, and I suggest that you do not go looking for it.”

Harry nodded, picked up the cloak, and started heading for the door. At the door, he stopped. “Professor… what…” he trailed off.

“What do I see in the mirror?”

Harry nodded.

“I see myself holding a pair of long wool socks. Yet another Christmas has come and gone, and yet everyone seems to believe that I want books. Not that I do not enjoy many of the tomes I receive, but what I could really use is a nice pair of warm socks. Good night Harry.”

Harry took this as a clear dismissal, slipped on his cloak, and headed back to his dorm.

Lying in bed, it occurred to him that perhaps Dumbledore had not been entirely honest. It was a rather personal question anyway.

Harry tried to sleep but could not. Floating in front of his eyes was the image of the girl. The girl who resembled him in many ways. The girl who possessed his scar. The girl, who Harry was sure, was him. Or, at least, who he wished to be.

It’s impossible, he thought. Isn’t it? He shook his head, trying to clear it. Magic can do many things. Could it help- maybe. But Harry couldn’t think about that. What would the Dursleys say? It was wrong.

And yet… yet Harry couldn’t help but want it.

Chapter 3: The Mirror Part 2

“Tell me what you see.”

Harry looked into the mirror – that same mirror from over Christmas. That mirror that showed him his family… and her.

Looking into the mirror, he could see his family again. Right there, in front of his parents, was that same girl. The same hair, the same scar, the same eyes. Same as Harry.

As Harry watched, the girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a small blood-red stone. She winked at Harry and put the stone back into her pocket. Harry felt as a weight settled against his leg. Somehow, he had gotten the stone.

He had to answer Voldemort still. “I- I see myself. I see my parents. They’re… they’re smiling at me.”

Voldemort laughed. A high pitched, cruel sounding laugh. It chilled Harry to the bone.

“There is more that you see, is there not?”

Harry shook his head.

“Lies!”

Harry tried to back away.

“He has the Stone. Get him!”

Harry could not back away fast enough. Professor Quirrell’s hand closed around his wrist.

Harry yelped in pain. So did Professor Quirrell. The teacher flinched back, watching as his hand blistered and blackened.

“Master! My hand!”

“Get him you fool!”

Quirrell reached for Harry again, to similar results.

Harry had an idea. He remained entirely unharmed.

As Quirrell reached for Harry once again, Harry grabbed the teacher’s face.

Quirrell screamed.

Harry screamed.

Voldemort screamed.

Harry’s vision went dark. Eventually, he felt himself being pulled away from Quirrell. His vision returned and he could see a shiny glint of metal and a deep purple cloak.

Harry had strange dreams.

In one, he was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban. He could hear Voldemort’s voice telling him to join him.

In another, he dreamt of the girl in the mirror. He touched his hand to the mirror, her hand meeting his at the glass. Then he was falling through the mirror. He shut his eyes as the world spun around him. When the world was finally still, he opened his eyes. He felt weird. He examined himself and found that he now was the girl. The girl was now her. And she was happy.

In yet another dream, he would wake up, back in his dormitory. Or, in her dormitory. She was the girl again. She woke up in the girls’ dormitory. Hermione was there. They went to breakfast together. Hermione called her ‘Hazel.’

Hazel’s a nice name.

I like Hazel.

Then she woke up.

All she remembered was the image of the girl, the feeling of herself as a girl.

And he remembered the name Hazel. Remembered that he really liked this name.

“So what did you see in the mirror?” Hermione asked.

“I… I saw myself with the stone,” Harry answered.

“There’s more, right?”

Harry nodded.

“What else did you see then?”

Harry ran his hand through his hair. “I saw my parents.”

“Your parents?”

Harry nodded.

“I- I’ve seen this mirror before, you know.”

“You have?”

Harry nodded. “Christmas break. After I got the cloak. I found it in a room. I saw my parents in it then. Dumbledore found me.”

“What happened? How did you not get in trouble?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. He just said the mirror showed us what it was we desired. And then he sent me to bed. He also said he saw himself receiving socks for Christmas.”

“Socks?”

Harry nodded. “He really likes socks apparently.”

Hermione laughed. “He really is quite barmy.”

Harry nodded, laughing.

“But that’s not everything, is it?”

Harry looked back down towards the floor.

“Harry?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“What-“

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Harry-“

“Please, just don’t.”

“Can I guess?”

Harry shrugged, standing and walking over to the fireplace.

Hermione followed.

“Can I?”

Harry nodded.

“Did you see a girl version of yourself?” Hermione asked.

Harry’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Come, sit back down.” Hermione sat back on the couch. Harry sat next to her, his (her?) leg shaking.

“So… then do you want to be a girl?”

Harry shrugged.

Hermione sighed.

“I asked you how you knew what I saw,” he (she?) said.

Hermione focused on some embers in the fire. “I’ve suspected. For a long time now, actually. Since we first got here.”

Harry looked shocked. “What-“

“You climbed our stairs.”

Harry looked confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Hermione sighed. “Did you pay attention to the prefect’s when we got here?”

Harry shook his/her head. “Ron distracted me.”

Hermione sighed. “Well that explains why you were late for our first class, they told us there were guides on the notice board.”

“Oh.”

“They also told us that boys can’t climb the stairs to the girls’ dorms.”

Harry still looked confused. “So?”

“You climbed them anyway, Harry. Remember?”

Harry thought about it. “I did, didn’t I? Damn. What does that mean?”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know for sure. But… combined with the mirror thing… I suspect… well I think you’re like me.”

Harry was right back to looking confused. “Like you?”

Hermione was talking fast now, nervous. “Yes, like me. You see, when I was born, the doctors thought I was a boy. But I’m not a boy, I just looked like one.”

Harry still looked confused. “But you look like a girl.”

Hermione nodded. “I do now. Because I told my mum and dad that I was actually a girl, and they… well fortunately for me, they were very accepting of that. Not many parents are.”

Harry shook his/her head. “That’s… mental.”

Hermione scowled. “It is a perfectly normal thing to happen, Harry Potter.”

Harry looked sheepish. “Alright, alright. So… wait, when you mean you looked like a boy…”

Hermione shook her head. “Not relevant. Point is, I suspected you might be like that too.”

Harry reeled back in shock. “Me?!”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, you. I thought you be like me. It’s… it’s called ‘transgender.’ It means being a different gender than what the doctors and whatnot thought you were when you were born.”

Harry looked scared. “But- but… I can’t be. I’m not- I shouldn’t-“

Hermione sighed. “It’s just a suspicion.”

“Well, it’s wrong. I’m not a girl. I can’t be a girl. Maybe you can be a girl, I guess. Stairs let you up, maybe for me their just broken, or something.”

And with that, Hermione’s friend, who she felt sure was a girl, stormed up the stairs to the boys’ dorms. Hermione did not see her until the next day, in which she acted as if nothing had happened.

Chapter 4: Polyjuice

Hermione had an idea. A crazy idea. Maybe even a stupid idea. But it was an idea. And by God did she intend to act on this idea.

So, while Ron and Harry had been of trying to get hair from Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Hermione had gone and found hair off of Pansy Parkinson.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t needed to do it anyway, the hair she’d gotten from Millicent had been entirely the wrong colour, and Hermione was not about to risk it belonging to some random animal.

Then, once in the bathroom, as she had placed the hairs in the flasks of Polyjuice Potion, while Ron and Harry weren’t looking, she quickly swapped hers and Harry’s.

The hour being stuck in a boy’s body would be worth it, she figured, if she was right. And Hermione was confident that she was.

Of course, it didn’t work out that way.

“What the hell, Hermione?” Harry asked her, whispering, but Hermione could hear the strain in her voice. “Did you switch those on purpose? I told you, I can’t be like you!”

“And why can’t you, Harry?”

Harry nervously ran a hand through his (her) hair. “I just can’t.”

“Anyone can be, Harry. It’s entirely up to-“

“My uncle would kill me,” Harry muttered, so quiet, Hermione was barely sure she had heard her (and Hermione was confident on this being the correct pronoun) correctly.

“Then don’t go back to them.”

Harry looked stunned. As if that had never occurred to her. “But… isn’t that… illegal?”

Hermione glared at her. “Hang the law. Killing you would be illegal too. And laws are never and have never been the end all be all of morality. Some places have laws against homosexuality too. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

Harry shrugged. “My uncle thinks different.”

“And do you agree with him?”

Harry shook her head. “No.”

Hermione sighed. “Look… tell me one thing. When you see yourself, in that mirror. When you see that girl version of you… how do you feel? Please, be honest.”

Harry dropped her head in her heads. “Do I have to?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. You don’t even have to tell me. You just… you should be able to tell yourself that.”

~~~~~~

Harry couldn’t get to sleep that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the events of that day. Sure, whatever Malfoy had said was worth thinking about, but Harry found he couldn’t bring his mind around to that.

No, what he was thinking about now was… not exactly about what it was like, being in the body of a girl.

What her thoughts were stuck on was what it was like changing back.

Changing back, quite honestly, had sucked.

It was like she had been dropped back into a vat of boiling oil she only just realized she had been sitting in for her entire life, save for the past hour.

And it hurt.

After wandering past a tapestry depicting some crazy guy trying to teach trolls to dance, for what he felt like was the third time that night, he spotted a door he had never seen before.

Curious, he pulled it open, walking inside.

Within, he found a nearly empty room, save for one, single item.

Not you again, he thought. But he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to see her. That alternate she so desperately wanted to be real.

She looked a bit taller than she had the last time, all those months ago. Her hair was put up in a ponytail, and Harry genuinely thought she looked much better with Harry’s glasses than Harry ever had. Hell, even the scar on her forehead looked somewhat… prettier.

I want to be her. Harry did a double take. He wanted to be this girl.

No.

She wanted to be this girl.

She was this girl, but not quite right yet.

Hermione would know what to do.

Oh Merlin, Hermione.

She sunk down to the floor.

Hermione had been right the whole time. And Harry (no, Harry wasn’t right) had been too stubborn.

I should tell Hermione right now.

It was the middle of the night.

I need someone to know.

It was the middle of the night.

She’d understand.

She ran a hand through her hair. Her reflection copied her action.

But when the real Harry’s (Hazel’s? She remembered that she liked that name) hand ran out of hair, the reflection’s continued, brushing some of her hair over her shoulder.

Hazel blinked the tears out of her eyes. She hated how short her hair was.

But now, she needed to talk to Hermione.

~~~~~~

Hazel stopped at the base of the stairs.

She knew it was ridiculous, being nervous about this. She had already gone up them once before. She could again. Hermione could.

Hermione was like her.

Whatever happened, she would not be alone.

She stepped on the first stair. And then the next. And the next. And so on until she reached the landing next to the first-year dorms. Then she continued. Up to the second landing. The second-year dorms. She gently pushed the door open. Thankfully, it didn’t creak.

She examined the room. She easily spotted Hermione’s back sitting on the ground leaning against one of the beds. She could see that the curtains were open, and Hermione was lying in the bed, sleeping.

Before her nerves overcame her, she walked over as quietly as she could, and nudged her sleeping friend.

Hermione stirred but did not wake.

Hazel nudged her again.

This time, Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. She glanced around, confused.

Hazel slipped the hood of her cloak off her head, and Hermione’s eyes focused on her.

“Harry?”

Hazel winced. Now that she knew just how wrong it was, the name stung.

“Not exactly.”

Hermione looked confused, before she smiled, giving Hazel a knowing look. “I was right.”

Hazel sighed. “Yeah… yeah, you were.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Hazel shrugged. “Yes. And who else could I even talk about this with?”

Hermione nodded. “I’m the only other trans person you know.”

Hazel nodded. “Yes.” She sat at the foot of the bed as Hermione sat up, rubbing at her eyes.

“So… first thing’s first. Name?”

Hazel smiled. “Hazel.”

Hermione smiled back. “That’s a very pretty name, Hazel.”

Hazel blushed. “I don’t know where I got it from. All I know is that suddenly at some point last year, I started thinking about that name… once almost signed a test with that name.”

“Oh, you are sooo trans.”

Hazel smiled. “It seems obvious, looking back.”

Hermione nodded. “It often can. I didn’t have all that much to look back on since I came out when I was 7, but there were still some signs.”

Hazel sighed. “You know, I think I did used to know. Like know know. When I was younger. My uncle just punished me for it until I stopped and forgot.”

Hermione scowled. “I meant it, you know. When I said I don’t think you should go back there. They sound horrible.”

“They are, but… I dunno, what if someone tried to force me back?”

“Then we make sure there isn’t an option for you to stay at all.”

“How?”

“I’ll ask my mum. She’d know what to do.”

“Does she need to get involved?”

Hermione nodded. “I’m just a kid. She’s an adult. People listen to adults. They should listen to kids, but they don’t.”

“So, I won’t have to go back to them?”

Hermione shook her head. “I refuse to let anyone send you back to those awful people, Hazel.”

Chapter 5: Claire Weasley

Ron was a little confused. When he had gone to wake Harry up that morning, his friend wasn’t in bed. He wasn’t in the common room. Hell, he wasn’t even in the great hall, eating breakfast. As well, Ron couldn’t find Hermione to ask if she had seen him.

Hermione finished tying the letter to Hedwig’s leg, and the owl spread her wings and flew up and out of the owlery. “There. Mum and dad should take care of everything. You shouldn’t have to ever go back.”

Hazel nervously twisted some of her now lengthened hair around one of her fingers. “What if it doesn’t work?”

Hermione smiled. “It will work, Hazel. Don’t worry.”

The two girls left the owlery together, and immediately ran into Ron.

“There you are, Hermione. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have you seen Harry? I thought he’d be with you.”

Hazel stiffened at the sound of her deadname.

Hermione bit her lip and turned to Hazel as if asking for permission.

“Who’s that?” Ron asked.

Hazel smiled nervously and stepped towards Ron, lifting up her bangs to show him her scar. “It’s me. Except, my name isn’t Harry anymore.”

Ron frowned. “Why not? Also, what’s with you hair?”

Hazel dropped her hair back over her scar. “I uh… I’m a girl, actually. I- I figured it out last night. Remember how Hermione got the potions mixed up and I was Pansy yesterday?”

Ron nodded.

“Well, last night I couldn’t sleep, so I was, uh, wandering around, and I found this mirror. I’d seen it before. It- it kept showing me, but instead of my reflection, there was this girl. She, uh- she had my scar, and my eyes, and I realised I wanted to be her. And something Hermione told me… uh, well, I can just be a girl if I want… so I’m a girl then. My name is Hazel.”

Ron frowned. “You can just do that?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, if you want to be a girl, you just can be a girl. Simple as that.”

“I could just be a girl?” Ron asked.

Hazel nodded. “If you want, yes.”

Ron looked at his feet. “So why isn’t everyone a girl?”

Hermione frowned. “What do you mean?”

Ron shifted nervously. “Well… I thought everyone felt that way? That they wanna be girls, that is.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Do you want to find somewhere private?”

Ron looked up. “Maybe.”

Hazel grabbed Ron’s hand. “Come on then. There’s a couple unused classrooms nearby. We can just grab one of those.”

They quickly walked in the direction Hazel led them, Hazel cracked the door of the first classroom open a crack, peaking inside, then quickly closed it, blushing furiously.

“What?” Hermione asked.

Hazel shook her head, then, in a higher than normal voice, said. “Ron, uh… next time you see your brother, can you please tell him to lock the door next time?”

“Why?”

Hazel blushed some more. “You really don’t wanna know.”

They tried the next room and it was mercifully empty.

Hazel cleared her throat. “Do you… want to be a girl, Ron?”

Ron nodded. “Course. Doesn’t everyone?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not everyone wants to be a girl. Some people are actually ok with being a boy.”

Ron snorted. “Can’t imagine why.”

Hazel took Ron’s hand. “So you want to be a girl, then?”

Ron sighed. “I guess so. Does that mean I am a girl then?”

Hazel nodded. “Yeah.”

Ron smiled, some tears leaking out of her eyes. “Then I’m a girl?”

Hazel nodded. “Yes.”

Ron threw her arms around Hazel, and started sobbing into her shoulder.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her two friends, and the three of them hugged for what felt like hours, but was really only a couple minutes.

Hazel pulled away first. “So, uh… do you- do you wanna change your name, maybe?”

Ron pulled away as well. “My name?”

Hazel nodded. “Like, do you want a more, uh, girly name?”

Ron stared at her feet for a bit before finally saying. “I guess so.”

“What name do you want?” Hermione asked.

“I dunno. I’d have to think about it.”

“Think about it as much as you need to. Just be sure to tell us once you know, ok?”

Ron nodded. “Of course.”

One week later

Molly was just sitting down to drink her afternoon tea, when an owl - Hedwig flew in and dropped a letter on the kitchen table.

Molly picked up the letter, recognising her youngest son’s handwriting on the envelope, and opened it.

Mum,

Remember last week, when I told you about Hazel? Well, something I left out was that I’m also like her. That is, I’m a trans girl too. I didn’t tell you because I had only just figured it out for myself that day, and wasn’t completely sure yet. Now I am, and I’ve even chose a new name for myself.

I hope you accept me.

Love, your daughter, Claire.