you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 9: i know who i'm not

The whole world shifted, it seemed. Harry stared at McGonagall.

"Do you have anything to say?" she asked gently. "Questions, perhaps? Anything I can get you?"

Harry shook her—his—head.

"I know this must feel like a shock," McGonagall said sympathetically. "I understand if this takes getting used to."

"Actually..." Harry muttered. "This makes a whole lot more sense than finding out I was a witch. Well, wizard now, I suppose."

"Oh?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

Harry rushed to explain. "I mean... I didn't know magic was real until, like, two weeks ago. Weird letters raining into the house, a giant stranger coming to tell me I'm a witch, an evil wizard had killed my... parents—it was all so bizarre. I thought I'd gone barmy until I went to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. But this... this I understand."

"Pardon my intrusion," McGonagall said, "But are you implying that your relatives never explained to you about your magical... inheritance?"

"The Dursleys? Never. They didn't want that sort of frea—er, that sort of thing around Dudley."

McGonagall nodded, leaning back. "I suppose they didn't want to shock either one of you until you were ready..." she murmured.

Harry resisted the urge to snort. As though Hagrid kicking down the door of a shack on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere wasn't shock enough. But she didn't correct McGonagall, and McGonagall didn't ask. 

"You do understand that my door is always open to you, as Deputy Headmistress," she said warmly. "And your Head of House, of course," she added, but with less certainty. Probably thinking about how unapproachable Snape was. 

Harry nodded. He was thinking he would rather go to McGonagall than Snape any day, but he didn't voice that thought. McGonagall definitely knew that already. Not for the first time, Harry wished he had been put into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, if it meant having McGonagall as Head of House.

Anyway, Harry didn't have anymore questions. They'd all been answered, for now. He was a boy, and he always felt that way, too, even if he hadn't known how to express it.

"Well," she said briskly, "If you have no more questions, there are some things we need to sort out—" Pulling out her wand, she made a few movements before rolls of parchment paper appeared before her.

"Your school and personal records," she explained at Harry's questioning look. "There is the matter of checking if your records have self-corrected themselves—ah, good. The castle has already recognized the change. Very well, all that is necessary now is a name change. Only if you desire it, of course—Helena is not a traditionally feminine name, but if you wish to keep it—"

"Harry," he said. "People always call me Harry. That's my name."

McGonagall gave him a small smile over the floating rolls of parchment paper. "And so it is."

"Do the Dursleys, er, need to sign off on that or something?" Harry asked nervously. 

"No," McGonagall said smoothly. "A legal name change in these circumstances requires only the consent of the person in question."

"Oh, okay," Harry said, somewhat relieved. The Dursleys probably would have refused to sign just to spite Harry.

Harry almost groaned at the thought of the Dursleys. As if he needed more proof of his "freakishness." What would they say? As far as they were concerned, being... whatever Harry was would probably be as bad as being magical. Oh well, he'd cross that bridge when he'd get to it.

After signing his name in his best cursive, the parchment suddenly disappeared, startling Harry He wondered if he'd ever get used to the peculiarities of the wizarding world.

"And beside your name change," McGonagall said, almost hesitantly. "You are, of course, too young for any surgeries you might want to undergo in the future." It took Harry a moment to realize what she was talking about, and flushed a little. McGonagall saw, and gave her a gentle smile.

"As I said, you are too young to be thinking about it. I just want to let you know that when you're older, if you choose, you may make an appointment with St. Mungo's to discuss with certified mediwitches and wizards what you would like to do."

Harry assumed 'St. Mungo's' was a wizarding hospital. He thought it strange that wizards would need hospitals, if they had magic. Deep down, he had hoped maybe McGonagall could wave her wand and turn Harry into a boy, simple and quick. He should have known it wouldn't have been that easy.

"Thank you, Professor," he said earnestly to McGonagall.

She waved it away. "No need," she said crisply. "Do you have anything else you wish to tell me?"

Harry looked down at his hands. For a moment they sat in silence.

"I was supposed to be in your House," Harry finally blurted out.

McGonagall only raised an eyebrow in response. "And yet you are in Slytherin. I surmise you are, then, not 'supposed' to be in Gryffindor?"

"The Hat almost gave it to me," Harry argued. "It almost put me in Gryffindor!"

"Again, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. The "Mr." pleased Harry, filling him with a glow. It didn't for long, though. "It almost put you in Gryffindor. But from the looks of it, the Hat argued against it, no?"

Harry hung his had. "I thought... I thought that maybe if I argued with the Hat, it would be a pretty Gryffindor thing to do," he admitted. "Maybe that was stupid."

McGonagall looked like she was struggling to hide a smile. "I would say, Mr. Potter, that on the contrary, it was a quite Slytherin thing to do."

Harry frowned. "Well, I almost went back and jammed the Hat back on my head just to show it that I was brave. But then I thought maybe I was making a scene and Dumbledore... er, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't like that so much."

"Harry. No one is defined by just one character trait. We all have some kind of bravery within us. It was brave of you to argue with the Hat. But it's pointless to mull over it anymore. The Hat made its choice."

"I don't think I'll be a very good Slytherin," Harry confessed. "Cunning? Use any means to achieve my ends? I don't think that's me."

Harry didn't say the thing that was most bothering him, though. The wizard who had killed his parents had been in Slytherin, hadn't he? And his parents were from Gryffindor, if Hermione from the train had informed him correctly. What if he had disappointed them? Worse, what if he was a Dark Wizard, like Voldemort?

"Well, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you would be a credit to any house the Hat could have chosen for you. Slytherin is lucky to have you. Now, let me escort you back to your common room." 

Harry stifled a yawn as he followed McGonagall. They must have been in her office for a while. Everything was a bit of a whirlwind in his head, and Harry definitely didn't want to think about everything that had happened too much until he had gotten a minimum of eight hours of sleep—he thought he might have a headache if he did. 

Although... something did still bother him. Harry scoffed. Slytherin is lucky to have me? Ha!  

He knew one person who didn't think so, and his name was Severus Snape.