It's a bewildered, overwhelmed, and rather terrified Harry who finally takes her seat on the Hogwarts Express. Thankfully, she's found an empty compartment, but she's sure it's only a matter of time before someone barges in, and she doesn't know what to do when that happens.

It's been an odd month, she reflects as she props her feet up on the opposite seat. The Dursleys treated her like she was utterly invisible most of the time-and while it was an improvement on being shoved round, hit, and insulted, it did get rather lonely after a while. Hagrid was lovely, but he kept getting confused and calling her a boy, which felt like a thousand knife-prickles down her neck after the first time. At least all her clothes were girls'-Madame Malkin had been the most understanding person Harry had ever met, and kept telling her not to worry, while stuffing her new trunk with extra items "at no charge, love, it's no trouble at all!" She still doesn't know what half of them are meant for!

A knock at the door disturbs her reverie, and Harry jolts up to see a girl standing there, shuffling from foot to foot. She has masses of bushy brown hair, a rather prominent overbite, and she has somehow managed to already change into her robes.

"Can I sit with you?" she asks in a bossy tone. "Everywhere else is full."

"Sure," Harry smiles a bit awkwardly and stuffs all her things off to the side.

"I'm Hermione," the girl introduces herself with an out-thrust hand. "Hermione Granger. And you are?"

"Harry Potter," Harry mumbles, uncomfortably aware of the usual reaction to her. As predicted, the girl's eyes dart to her forehead, covered by a messy fringe.

"You're the Boy Who Lived!" Hermione blurts.

"Girl," Harry corrects in an even lower mumble, but somehow Hermione still manages to hear. Her brow crinkles in confusion.

"Girl? What d'you mean?"

"I'm a girl," Harry says, gnawing her bottom lip nervously. Hermione's brow wrinkles further.

"Like-a curse or something? Did someone hex you? Oh, I'm sure I've read about that somewhere!" The girl dives into her trunk, rummaging through a massive pile of books, and Harry feels like sinking into her seat and disappearing forever.

"It's not a curse!" Harry finally squeaks out, her ears burning. Hermione pauses, looking at her in utter perplexity.

"I'm just-a girl, okay? I don't know why my body doesn't agree with me, or why everyone thinks I'm a boy, but I'm not, I'm a girl, even Hogwarts knows it, see?" Harry fishes out the much-beloved, much-wrinkled envelope addressed to Miss H. Potter and offers it for Hermione's perusal.

"Oh," Hermione says, looking rather pink. "Oh, I know what you are! Maybe. I haven't read very much about it and I didn't bring any books on the subject because I didn't think I would need to, but I think you're transgender."

"What's that mean?" Harry looks blankly at the bushy-haired girl.

"Transgender. Trans means across or beyond. It means someone whose gender isn't what they were assigned at birth, I think," Hermione recites, still pink-faced. "So you would be a trans girl, if I remember correctly. And that's so lovely that Hogwarts recognises it! I wonder if we'll be in the same House. I don't know what one I'd like to be in. Either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, I think."

"I just hope I get into one," Harry says in a gloomy sort of way, kicking her trainers against the seat. "I mean, can you imagine? If you weren't up to snuff and they just sent you straight home? The Dursleys wouldn't be too pleased." She shudders.

"I'm sure that won't happen," Hermione comforts, giving Harry's leg an awkward pat. "I mean, you're the Boy-I mean, the Girl-Who Lived! They couldn't possibly kick you out."

"If you say so," Harry shrugs. Privately, she's still convinced that they will take one look at her and kick her right out. For being a freak, just like Aunt Petunia always says.

The rest of the train ride passes in a bit of a blur. Harry buys everything she can off the sweets trolley and shares it with Hermione, who at first demurs and says she can't because her parents are dentists, but participates willingly enough when Harry points out it's not every day you find wizarding sweets. She decides her favourites are cauldron cakes and licorice wands. Chocolate frogs are sweet enough, and she likes the cards, but the fact they move makes her shudder, and she's not the only one. Hermione still looks green around the gills when the Express slows to a stop.

"Time to go!" Hermione says, and Harry musters a sickly smile in reply.

"Are you all right?" Hermione crooks her head to the side. Harry nods, feeling her stomach slosh.

"Perfectly," she croaks, gathering her things. She changed into her robes midway through, and they at least fit properly (for the first time she can remember), but she still feels like an unwelcome stranger.

"Then let's go!" Hermione squeals, and Harry reluctantly follows.