Author's Note: I had a random little plot bunny hop into my head. Warning for transphobia. In this story, Harry Potter is a trans boy. The world knows him as the "girl who lived," etc. The name his parents gave him is Harriet.

"That can't be right," Professor McGonagall looked at the emerald green lettering on the most important envelope soon to be sent out to this new batch of students. The Girl Who Lived was coming to Hogwarts. A stray glance, and Minerva spotted the problem immediately.

The envelope was addressed to Mr. Harry Potter. It was the work of a few moments for her to re-address it, conveniently skimming over the fact said address was "The Cupboard Under The Stairs," and put it in the stack to be owled with a lighter heart. She couldn't wait for the girl to come to Hogwarts. After all, was there any doubt Harriet Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding World, wouldn't be in Gryffindor?

It was a very sullen Harry Potter who finally climbed onto the Hogwarts Express that September first, lugging his trunk behind him and hoping that he could find an empty compartment. He did, but it wasn't empty for long. A boy with very vibrant red hair and a smudge of dirt on his nose craned his head round the door-frame rather apologetically.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full," the boy said. Harry grunted, and the boy must have taken it as agreement, for he was soon cozily ensconced in the opposite seat. "Is it true then?"

"What?" Harry said, irritation colouring his voice.

"Are you...you know, Harriet Potter? The Girl Who Lived?" the boy's eyes flickered to Harry's forehead, as if they could see past the heavy fringe to the lightning-shaped scar beneath. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

"I'm Potter," Harry acknowledged shortly. "Harry Potter. And I'm not a girl."

"What d'you mean, you aren't a girl?" Ron demanded. "What, all the history books got it wrong?"

"...Yeah, let's go with that," Harry said after a moment's contemplation. He rubbed at his sweaty fringe and in the process, managed to show off the dratted scar that enthralled everyone in Diagon Alley.

"Wow," Ron breathed. "So it's true. You Know Who. Defeated by a baby. What did you do? Do you know? Did you kill him?"

"How the hell should I know, I was one," Harry said. "All I remember was a lady screaming and a load of green light."

Ron looked vaguely green himself at this news, but at least he stopped prying for information. A few minutes in silence passed, and a girl with very bushy brown hair and prominent front teeth strode in, already dressed in her school robes.

"Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," she said. They both shook their heads. "I'm Hermione Granger. You must be Harriet Potter, I've read all about you. And you are?" She raised an inquiring, still-rather-bushy eyebrow at Ron.

"Ron Weasley," Ron introduced himself with a mumble. The girl looked at him and sniffed.

"Pleasure," she said dryly. "You've got a spot of dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know?"

She turned to leave, and Harry finally managed to get a word in edgewise.

"It's Harry," he blurted out. "Harry Potter."

"All right then," Hermione cast him a slightly bemused glance and flounced out of the compartment.

Harry slumped in his seat and groaned. It was going to be a long train ride.

"Miss Potter, this simply won't do," the harridan who proclaimed herself to be his new Head of House said, swooping down on the rather stubborn first year boy, who sat on his trunk, arms folded across his chest. "It's time for bed, young lady, and you are meant to sleep in your dormitory, not the common room. You are not a house elf. Not that there's, erm, anything wrong with house elves," she tacked on hastily. "I will not hesitate to take points or assign you a detention if you are not up those stairs in ten minutes, Miss Potter," Minerva McGonagall said sternly.

Harry settled down more firmly on his trunk. He knew he should have taken the Sorting Hat up on the offer of Slytherin. Professor Snape looked like a greasy old bat, but at least he would have been able to attempt speaking to him man-to-man. He didn't have a clue how to handle this woman, who looked like she'd lived for longer than he could count, and who looked like she'd bitten into something rotten whenever she looked at him.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione hissed under her breath. "You don't want to lose points!"

"Why should I care?" Harry demanded, whirling on the bushy-haired girl and nearly losing his seat. Most of the House had made their reluctant way to bed by now, but Ron and Hermione still remained in the common room, however sleepy they both looked. "I'm not sleeping in the girl's dorm and you can't make me."

"That's what you think, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall said, grabbing hold of Harry's ear and pulling him up with a yelp of pain and a barely stifled swing at her. He had enough of Uncle Vernon pounding on him, he didn't need it at school, too. "I don't know why you're so bound and determined to ignore reality, but you are going up those stairs and you will sleep in the girl's dorm, and that is final." She gave Harry a firm push, sending him stumbling up the first two steps.

And then, to the eternal shock of the Gryffindor Head of House, and the delight of one Harry Potter, the entire flight of steps turned into a massive slide.

"I don't think Hogwarts agrees with your assessment, Professor," Hermione said meekly from the side.

"Well," Minerva spluttered, her face turning red. "We'll see about this in the morning, Potter." She turned and left rather stiffly, muttering under her breath.

"Guess you're up with me then, mate," Ron said with a grin. "Did you see the look on McGonagall's face? I thought she was gonna explode when the stairs turned!"

Hermione shook her head and murmured a fond "Boys" as she took herself up to bed, the stairs reverting back for her drowsy progress.

When Ron and Harry made it up the steps, there was an extra bed tucked aside, right next to Ron's.