Harlow Potter waited nervously for Neville Longbottom to finish reading the proof copy of Rita Skeeter's article that the witch had sent over the previous night. A week had gone by since Harlow's interview – and it was set to be published in one days' time for the whole wide Wizarding World to gawk at and gossip over. Harlow had decided to show Neville the interview first, a gesture of gratefulness for the way the clumsy wizard had not questioned or brought attention to any of Harry's physical changes. He had only ever intervened with a hot mug of tea or a biscuit when he had heard Harlow crying, as much as Harlow had tried to muffle the sound.

Neville had been kind enough to wait for Harlow to come out, never once casting askance at Harlow's lengthening hair, or painted nails, or softening muscles.

Neville put down the proof copy of The Daily Prophet – the cover page emblazoned with the headline 'Meet Harlow Potter – The Girl Who Lived' on their coffee table. Neville gulped nervously as he meet Harlow's worried gaze.

"…This explains a LOT," Neville finally blurted out. Harlow couldn't help but laugh nervously in reply.

"I suppose it does."

"So – so you aren't gay, then?"

Sexuality became tricky when your gender changed. Harry had slept with Ginny and Luna, and had crushed on Cho Chang all those years ago. If Harlow was now a girl, did that make her a lesbian too? Harry wasn't ready to answer those questions just yet – and so gave the simple answer of 'no' to Neville.

"I like girls," Harlow said slowly. "That hasn't changed. The only thing that has changed is me, on the outside, to the public."

Neville nodded his head quite a few times, deep in thought. Finally he mumbled, "I don't know how Hannah's going to feel about me living with a girl that's not her…"

Harlow grinned. "Maybe she could move in with us."
Neville's eyes widened. "Oh, um, maybe….oh goodness…"

A short rapping on their door alerted them both to a visitor. Harlow opened the door to see Luna Lovegood standing, as oddly as ever, before her.

Luna breezed in and gave Neville a hug, made herself at home and began to brew some tea with a quick flick of her wand.

She spotted the newspaper proof and smiled. "I love the name you chose, 'Harlow'. I'm curious about the meaning – I consulted my scrying stones and they told me it means 'army', or 'hill'.

The green-eyed witch blushed. "It wasn't chosen for the meaning so much as it sounded close to 'Harry'…but wasn't something quite so cliché as 'Harriet'," she explained.

Luna nodded thoughtfully in reply as she began pouring three cups of tea for them all. "It is a lovely name indeed. I shall have to create a new birth chart for you, now you have a new name. I believe your waxing moon in the fifth house might spell for happiness and success…"

Here Luna trailed off into mutterings about astrology that neither Harlow nor Neville had any hope of following. They drank their tea, and discussed transgenderism, and pondered how the Wizarding World would react. Luna advised Harlow to ignore any negativity, as someone would always find difference to be a bad thing, no matter how positive its nature may be.

Harlow smiled a true smile over the lip of her teacup. She drank deeply in the warmth that the acceptance of her friends gave her. She would need to remember that support: for her next stop today was to visit the Burrow, to tell Mr and Mr Weasley – and then to Hagrid's hut, to discuss her transition with the half-giant gamekeeper.

The most important people in her life would be told before the Howlers and letters came rushing in the owl post after Skeeter's article would hit newsstands tomorrow morning. Harlow needed to keep the support in her heart in mind in case her worse fears about the elder family in her life came true.

All too soon, the tea was finished, and Luna ordered Harlow to go change. Luna was here to bring over her makeup for Harlow to borrow, as the black-haired witch had yet to buy any cosmetic products of her own. Once Harlow nervously finishing dressing and applying her make up, Luna, Neville and she parted ways. At five o'clock in the evening, Harlow met Hermione, Ron and Ginny outside the Burrow. Ron stared wide-eyed at Harlow – it was the first time the gangly redhead has seen Harlow so transformed and feminine – but a nudge from Hermione kept him from putting his foot in his mouth. Harlow clutched The Daily Prophet proof. She was sure she was sweating. She stood almost frozen at the door to the Burrow, unable to move from sheer terror. Garden gnomes were squabbling under the group's feet, until finally, Ginny pushed Harlow through the door with a not so gentle prod.

Mrs Weasley was in the middle of wiping down the dining table. She saw Harlow's alternate appearance, and the grave faces of the young people before her, and frowned. "Arthur…?" she called hesitantly.

The Weasley patriarch bustled in, his appearance a little dusty as he had obviously been tinkering with some Muggle product in his shed.

"What is going…" he began to say, until Harlow thrust forward the article. Her hands were shaking as Mr Weasley took the paper from Harlow's white hands and Mr and Mrs Weasley slowly began to read.

It seemed to take an age. Mrs Weasley's lips pursed at several moments, and Mr Weasley gaped. Finally, the two put the paper down on the table. The only sound in the entire kitchen was the scratching and scrubbing from a pile dishes being washed by an enchanted dish brush over the kitchen sink. The noise would have been comical in the silence if it weren't such a defining moment.

"This is what you want?" Mrs Weasley said in a quiet, tremulous voice after a moment.

Harlow nodded tearfully. "This is who I am."

And physically, in front of them, there was no denying it. Harlow had purposefully worn the styling Luna and she had come up with so many weeks earlier. With a few spells and flicks of her holly wand, Harlow had lengthened her jet black hair so it sat on her shoulders, a fringe covering her famous lightning bolt scar. She wore a plain olive green button down top, dark wash jeans and black canvas shoes. Her nails wore a dark jade colour, and she wore a simple coat of black mascara. It was clear that Harry Potter, the boy they'd grown to love as son, was no longer.

"Oh, my dear child!" cried Mrs Weasley, and pulled Harlow tight in for a hug. "You poor thing, always so alone…!"

Ginny started crying behind them, and had to leave the room. Harlow thought it was probably very confronting to see her parents accept such a socially daunting difference. It held hope for her, too, and that must have been difficult to witness.

Hermione went after Ginny as Mrs Weasley released Harlow from her embrace. Mr Weasley gave Harlow a tight but kind smile. They spoke for a few more minutes, asking Harlow about the ins and outs of being transgender. Ginny and Hermione returned. Ginny was shaking, but looked determined.

"Harlow and I broke up because I cheated on them with a woman," she said, looking dead straight at her parents. "I'm a lesbian."

Mrs Weasley burst into tears, with Mr Weasley holding her, looking shell-shocked.

"Give us one piece of earth shattering news one day at a time, Ginny!" yelled Ron before guffawing nervously, obviously running over the news his sister was a lesbian over in his mind.

"M-mum?" Ginny trembled. "What do you think?"

Mrs Weasley drew her only daughter into her embrace, just as she did Harlow.
"We've wondered for a long time, dear," she said in a watery voice.

"How?" Ginny asked, surprised. "I didn't even know."

An exhausted sigh precluded the Weasley matriarch's response. "A mother just knows these things, sometimes."

"And you don't care? You aren't going to throw me out? Daddy?" Ginny fearfully asked her parents, looking from one to the other.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had aged significantly during the war. Thinner, greyer, under eye circles that spoke of little sleep. The couple met each others' gaze before turning back to their daughter.

"We care, dear. It's not exactly normal, all of this, at least in the Wizarding World. And I worry if you and Harry might not have chosen a different path, it would not be so hard for you. It might take some time to get….used to all of this change," Mrs Weasley tried to explain. Her words were not perfect, but she was not disowning them, so both Harlow and Ginny tried not to flinch.

"But we aren't going to lose anymore children," Mr Weasley interjected tiredly.

He then hugged Ginny very close. "We don't want to lose any of you ever again," he whispered. Fred Weasley had become the ghoul that haunted the Weasleys without ever needing a ghostly form.

"You won't," Harlow said firmly, squeezing Ginny's hand.

The golden trio and Ginny Weasley sat haphazardly along the outdoor setting in front of the Burrow. They were drinking in the dusky scenery as they drunk Firewhisky, the burning taste as hot as the setting sun. Ginny occasionally hiccupped, her face pale. She still looked a quite as shell shocked at her coming out as her parents had.

Harlow slid an arm around her and squeezed gently. She was very proud of her ex-girlfriend. Coming out to the Weasley parents hadn't been perfect, but it was okay, and they were safe. Harlow felt a little more reassured about telling Hagrid – he, of course, was always grumbling about how people should respect man-eating spiders. What was a little gender change compared to Acromantula or Giants or Blast-Ended Skrewts?

Ron took a long, thoughtful gulp of his drink beside Harry. He burped loudly, to which Hermione and Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry laughed,

"Who am I going to talk about Quidditch with now?" Ron complained.

"My gender has changed, Ron, I haven't had a brain transplant," Harlow laughed, almost choking on a swig of Firewhisky. "I still love Quidditch, and I still want to be an Auror. I'm still the same person – just more, well, me."

Hermione began to smile beside them, but instead let out a small scream, as glowing, gleaming Patronus in the form of a python slithered up to the group.

"Fucking patronus," Ron swore. Hermione shushed him as the messag began to transmit from the grey, swirling corporeal form.

"The jury has reached a verdict. It will be read out in ten. Hurry," hissed Madge Lune's low voice from her Patronus.

Hermione almost threw her Firewhisky at her boyfriend in panic. "Oh Merlin, I've got to go! I need my notes! And I need to brush my teeth! Oh goodness, ten minutes!"

Harlow and Ron put their drinks down as tried to help Hermione, frazzled as she was. "Accio subsection 33 notes!" Ron called with a quick flick of his wand.

Hermione pinked, pleased something she'd rambled about had actually stayed in Ron's mind. Harlow wandlessly charmed some mouthwash out of their alcohol as Hermione straightened her short, bushy hair back into a neat bun and then cleaned out her mouth.

"Good luck!" the two best friends called as Hermione Disapparated with a smart crack and nervous smile.

"You're not going to go?" Ron asked his best mate.

"Nah," decided Harlow. "Malfoy would probably hex me if The Girl Who Lived stole his limelight."

"Slimy git," concluded Ron, draining the last of his drink.

Harlow rolled their eyes. "Maybe not so much, Ron. The world we fought for – the one you and Hermione's sprog is going to grow up in –" (here Ron blushed pleasurably at the thought of he and Hermione having children one day, and Ginny laughed in response) - "is going to be one where pasts are forgiven or forgotten or don't matter."

"You sound like Hermione," noted Ginny gleefully.

"Girls," groaned Ron, clearly feeling outnumbered.

Girls. Ron's words echoed in Harlow's mind. It was such a little word, so soft, yet meant so much.

The three of them sat drinking the afternoon away, lazily watching as the setting sun revealed brilliant shades of orange and lilac and dusty pink. Harlow thought of Draco Malfoy's impending fate, and of Hermione's tenacity and intelligence, and how proud of Hermione she was. Being compared to Hermione – grouped in with girls – was the best compliment Harlow had ever received.

Harlow raised a glass to the bright tangerine sunset, and toasted a final, silent farewell to Harry Potter.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading Harry's journey to Harlow as much as I did writing it. So long, and thanks for all the fish.