Chapter 7: Ridicule

Chapter 7: Ridicule

We didn’t talk for a week. It didn’t matter that we slept in the same room or attended almost all the same classes. Amit wouldn’t even look at me. He sat at the far end of the Gryffindor table during meals. He chatted with the Weasley twins but never even cast me a scornful glance in my direction. During classes, he sat away from me, apologising weakly when he took someone else’s seat. Everyone in Gryffindor knew he was mad at me — heck, I imagined all of Hogwarts knew. More than once McGonagall asked me if I wanted to talk about anything with her. I couldn’t exactly bring up that I wanted to know how to permanently transfigure my body anymore than the fact that I was the worst best friend in history. I politely declined her offer and remained stoic during our tutoring session that week. I also nodded along when Madam Pomfrey noticed I needed more sleep during my checkup, and sighed with agreement when Trelawney told me that doomed hovered over me. 

Nor did I talk to Asia again. She went back to her usual distance and silence. And although the Gryffindors all gave sad glances between Amit and I, none of them had anything to say about Asia and Madeline’s equally abrupt disentanglement. Like Amit, their breakup didn’t seem to weigh on Madeline at all. It was like she time travelled to over a month ago — before the Gryffindor staircase. But Asia wasn’t pretending they’d never dated. Each day she looked more and more dishevelled. Her hair was in tangles, her robes were in disarray (though I suspected it was the same robe every day for a week), and her makeup was smudged and messy. She didn’t even spell herself to clean it up. She looked like I felt, but she didn’t say anything to me. Not about my Polyjuice Potion or what I let slip about my ambitions to completely defy the Immutability Paradox. 

Myrtle was as good an ear as I could hope for, but I didn’t have anything to say. This all went wrong when I opened my mouth. It’s not like I was handling my confession any better than Amit was. I stewed the lacewings to distract myself, but I couldn’t ignore Asia’s warning. Was what I was doing wrong? Which led to a worse question looming behind it: was what I wanted wrong? The whole world was designed so that I couldn’t get it. Magic  — the very stuff of bending reality — was ill-equipped to give me what I wanted. Did I need any other sign that this was the worst idea ever? Did I really need to lose my best friend for it to finally sink in that I was the problem here? Godric Gryffindor proved it. The staircase spell didn’t work on me because something about me is off. It’s not the world; it’s me. 

Thankfully, Professor Lupin was doing his best to distract me from the woes of my own desires for the afternoon. Apparently, he’d got a boggart to work with some third-years earlier that day. We finished our lecture early, and he was willing to let us practise our Riddikulus spell. Lupin had us all line up, and we could approach the boggart in the closet (which I thought would be a wonderful name for a rock band) one at a time and face our worst fears. 

And to think we did this for fun. Muggles must think we’re crazy. 

“Maddie, please,” Asia said as she tried to stand in line next to her former girlfriend. Asia’s normally straight hair was getting some of its natural curl back, but not all of it. And not evenly. That, combined with a massive stain on her robes from potions (yes, she made an actual, honest-to-god mistake in potions), she had a distinct crazy bag lady look. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” Madeline sighed and let five Hufflepuffs separate her from Asia. Nearby, Olivia and Agnes glared at Asia, doing their best Heathers impersonations. I expected their chat to get more attention, but everyone had their eyes glued on the wobbling cabinet that held the angry boggart. 

Rohit Das approached the boggart first with his wand at the ready. His dark skin and bald head drank in the sunlight pouring in from the huge windows Lupin liked to leave open. The professor preferred as much space as possible in the classroom, viewing it more as a practicum course than a lecture-oriented class (he apologised profusely whenever we had to take notes). We had moved the desks to the side of the room so we had more room to run from our worst nightmares. 

Apparently, for little Rohit Das, his biggest fear was snakes. There had been a growing fear of snakes among Hogwarts students since some moron let a Basilisk roam around the school and hide in the plumbing. Rumour was that there had been a noticeable drop in snakes as familiars among the students. The giant cobra slithered out of the closet towards Rohit, and the Hufflepuff glanced at Lupin. The professor nodded sagely at his student, and that seemed to be all Rohit needed. He pointed his wand, spread his legs wide, and shouted, “Riddikulus!” 

The snake immediately turned into a balloon animal comprising a single thin balloon tube with googly eyes on the front and a felt forked tongue. The class erupted in laughter, and the energy picked up. Lupin gestured for Rohit to step to the back of the line, while the next student approached their worst fear with absolute delight and joy. 

That was when I noticed I was standing next to Amit. He has a distinct belly laugh that is kind of like a hippo choking to death, complete with snorts and stops. I guess watching the scene between Madeline and Asia ahead of us in the line and then the giant snake combined with facing my own internal worst fear — dying alone — made Amit completely invisible to me. I did have almost a foot of height on him, so it was easy to overlook him (pun intended). 

“Um, hey,” I said to Amit while Annabelle Entwhistle faced her grandmother scolding her for not using coasters on the coffee table. 

Amit abruptly stopped laughing. He focused his gaze at the front of the line, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Amit, please,” I said. “I can’t apologise if you won’t talk to me.” 

“I don’t want your apologies,” he said to the back of Amelia Fittleworth’s head. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want things to go that way. I definitely didn’t want you —” 

“I think things were going exactly as you preferred.” He turned and looked back at me. I was expected rage in his eyes, but instead they were wet and crinkled with sadness. “You went on without me. Just like you always do.” 

“I always do what?” 

Amit sighed, and when he rolled his eyes, I could see them filled with tears. “You sit in your head and act like the world doesn’t understand you, but that’s because you never open your mouth. But you act like it’s our fault. Meanwhile, I’m blathering like an idiot, spilling my heart out, and all you can add is how difficult it is to turn into a tomcat.” 

“That’s my big sin? I don’t talk enough?” I noticed Amelia bothered by our conversation, so I bent down close to whisper. “That’s why you’re mad at me?” 

“I’m mad because you don’t talk enough and then treat me like I’m not your best friend. Like I can’t handle what’s going on in your head or worse, that I don’t care about it. Like any communication issue is my fault.” 

“And this is you handling it?” I clenched my fists. “When you found out, you stormed away and stopped talking to me for a week. Maybe I was justified in —” 

“You know I didn’t storm away because of —” He looked around at the line as we slowly moved closer to the boggart. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Because of what you were doing in there.” 

“Because you would have handled it so well? You thought that I was afraid I wasn’t man enough because of —” 

“You never gave me a chance to handle it!” Amelia whipped around and shushed Amit, but he glared at her until she looked back at the closet. Someone was casting Riddikulus at a dragon from the front of the room, washing us with the warmth of its flame breath from back here. 

“And I had to make that guess in the dark,” Amit whispered. “Because you took all your problems to Asia. Twice.” 

“That’s what this is about? Me getting help from one of the most brilliant potions students in a —” 

“You think that’s what this is about? Merlin’s beard, how dense are you?” 

“I needed help with the potion. She was trying to talk me out of it. I had to explain why I —” 

“And Moaning Bloody Myrtle?” Amit shook his head. “Why don’t you go share all your problems with Peeves next time?” 

“She is nowhere near as bad as Peeves. And besides, she gets what I’m going through —” 

“Maybe I could get it too?” Amit said. “Did you ever think of that?” 

“I —” I froze. “You get it?” 

“It’s not quite the mental gymnastics you think it is.” 

Asia bumped my shoulder as she stormed past me to the back of the line. I hadn’t seen what her worst fear was, but she didn’t have the characteristic smile on her face most students do when they cast Riddikulus. Amit glared at her as she reached the back of the line, then turned his attention to me. 

“You think I don’t know how uncomfortable you are? You think I can’t see how unhappy you are?” 

I looked around at the line, but no one was paying attention to our conversation. They were too excited to see what horror and joke would come out of the closet next. “Being uncomfortable is one thing. This is completely —” 

“I know about the bundle of clothes you keep under your bed,” he said. “You’re rubbish at hiding things.” 

I blushed. I know he overheard what I said to Asia, but did he hear everything? Did he understand? Did he know I was shaking because turning it into words was more terrifying than anything that this boggart could turn into? 

“Harry Potter and his stupid friends run around facing monsters in the dark,” Amit said. “You think I’m scared of some clothes?” 

“Please,” I said, my voice almost soft. “Don’t make it sound small.” 

“I —” 

He shut up as Amelia Fittleworth stepped up to the closet. Lupin asked if she was ready, and after a long pause, she nodded her head. What came out was terrifying, though I couldn’t imagine it was actually Amelia’s fear. It was a man with a thick beard and dark hair on his arms. He was in a dress that looked like it belonged to a grandmother forty years ago, and he had a painfully obvious wig. He knocked on something we couldn't see, like an invisible door. 

“Occupied!” Amelia shouted. Her voice was strange, like she was speaking from far away, but no one else seemed to be bothered by it. 

“Come out, little girl,” the hairy man in a dress said, and for a moment, I was afraid things were going to take a terribly dark turn. Darker than dragons or the fear of dying. I looked to Lupin to see if he was bothered or felt compelled to step in, but he watched impassively with glowing green eyes. 

Amelia’s boggart was worst of all. A predator who preyed on women and children, a pretender who insisted that others call him a woman. But it was all a ruse, a clever attempt to invade the most private and protected spaces. 

“No,” I said, grabbing Amit’s hand. “No, no, no.” 

“Elliot?” he said, turning back and watching me, all anger gone from his face. 

“Do you see it?” I ask. “Tell me, do you see their eyes?” 

Amit turned to watch as —

But Amelia Fittleworth was brave. She pointed her wand with conviction, widened her stance, and said, “Riddikulus!” Immediately, the man’s hands went between his legs, hiding the obvious sign of his masculinity. She revealed the farce of his charade, and the dress and wig flew off his body, leaving him exposed and embarrassed. His whole body was a testament to his identity, a biological male playing dress-up. 

“Hey,” Asia said as she cut in line to stand by me. “Are you all seeing this?” 

I nodded, but as I opened my mouth to say something, it was Amit’s turn to face the boggart. What did it mean that Amit and Asia heard it too? Did that mean these weren’t hallucinations? Or maybe they didn’t hear the narrator. Maybe it was just Amelia’s bizarre deepest fear, like Godric Gryffindor. 

Amit’s deepest fear was his father scolding him — it seemed to be a common fear among the student body at Hogwarts. He handled it with poise, almost seeming bored as he cast his Riddikulus spell and turned his father the bear form of the kind of fuzzy mascots Muggles have at sporting events and theme parks. He turned to face me, ignoring Lupin’s praise, and gave my shoulder a little squeeze before he went to the back of the line. Asia didn’t go with him. Instead, she stayed by my side and grabbed my hand. 

“It’s just a boggart,” she whispered. “Nothing in there is real.” 

“The fear is,” I said back. “That’s how it gets you.” 

“Bloody hell.” 

“Alright, Elliot,” Lupin said. “Time to face the closet.” 

I stepped up and took a deep breath, trying to steel myself before some horrible thing came for me. What would it be? A voice narrating my actions? Olivia Snarzle with glowing green eyes? Or maybe Amelia Fittleworth’s nightmare would get an encore, but this time I’d be the one in a dress making a fool of myself? 

Lupin opened the door, and a bear stumbled out of the closet. No. Not a bear. A werewolf? It was huge and towers over me, growing to almost twice the height of the closet that trapped it. But its hairs were too long, like the length of the hair on Olivia’s head but coming from each pour. It was a monstrous humanoid version of Cousin Itt from The Addams Family. I could barely make out its limbs from all the hair. 

Next to me, Lupin gasped with horror, and I knew I was well and truly doomed. 

Somehow, the boggart portraying dying alone, a narrator who hates me, or the woman I pine for glaring at me with scornful eyes all seemed preferable to this monster in front of me. I knew that beneath all that hair would be my reflection, like the diametrically opposed version of Olivia Snarzle’s reflection. Unlike so many of my classmates, this wasn’t something I was terrified might happen. This was definitely happen. An exaggeration, yes, but this was my terrifying reality, not my terrifying imagination. 

“Do it, Rowena,” Asia whispered from behind me. 

It was as easy as that. 

“Riddikulus,” I said, and though my heart wasn’t fully in it, the boggart stepped back from me. The hair swallowing its body shrunk, and when it faded entirely, the entire room stopped muttering. We watched in silence as the thing beneath the hair wasn’t me. It was a girl in a Ravenclaw uniform. Her shoulders were broad, and her body was stocky, but she was still beautiful with wavy brown hair and a nervous smile on her lips. And her eyes. She kept them fixed on the floor, but before she was sucked back into the closet, she looked up at me through long lashes. 

They were my eyes. 

Then she was gone. No one clapped or gasped. It seemed as unremarkable to them as a snake turned into a balloon animal with googly eyes. But to me, it was obviously nothing like that at all. Asia grabbed my hand and took me to the back of the line as Gerard Strawbottom stepped up to face his worst fear. 

The only one who seemed truly shaken by the whole thing — besides myself, obviously — was Lupin. Gerard had to ask him what was wrong to stir him out of his stupor. Lupin smiled kindly like he often did and tried to brush him off, but I noted something in my professor that I recognized, something heavy and hurtful that he kept to himself. 

The class ended quickly after that, and my peers rushed out of the room to go get their lunch. Asia and Amit tried to pull me aside, but I went to Lupin. 

“Are you alright, professor?” I asked as he packed up his papers in a leather bag. 

“Hm? What? Oh, Elliot. Hello, there.” He smiled warmly at me. “I’m fine. Boggart day is especially rough on one’s nerves. Though I know how to banish a boggart should it get feisty.” He shrugs. 

“My boggart seemed to rattle you.” 

“Well, when the door opens, I’m never sure if the boggart is going to come for me.” 

“You’re afraid of copious body hair?” I asked with a chuckle, trying to make light of it. I knew that if someone was asking me about my deepest and darkest fears, I’d deflect and deny like a mad man. 

“In a way,” he said. “But I’m afraid I need to get going. Well done today, Elliot.” 

He walked towards the door, but before he could walk past Asia and Amit who were waiting for me, I called out. “Professor?” Asia and Amit looked at me with a ‘what are you doing?’ expression that I ignored. 

“Yes?” He checked his watch as he turned to face me, and I appreciated that he didn’t sound exasperated with me. 

“I had a question for Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey that neither of them could answer.” 

Lupin stood up a bit straighter. “I doubt I know anymore than them, but I do like a challenge.” His face had a bit of cockiness to it, like a student about to show off his quidditch moves in front of a girl he fancied. 

“It’s about Unforgivable Curses.” 

Lupin’s swagger softened. “Tasteless topic.” 

“I know,” I said. I stepped closer. “But it’s more theoretical. I’m not trying to —”

Lupin silenced me with a raised hand and a kind face. “I don’t doubt your intentions, Elliot. Ask your question.” He looked at his watch again. “But quickly.” 

“Is there a curse that can control a large group of people? Like the Imperius Curse but it can control, say, a whole room of people?” 

“Hm.” Lupin actually tapped his chin. “Not that I know of, which is dreadful because I’d love to one up Minerva.” He smiled warmly. “Though I suppose I’d rather fail to meet this challenge than know of such a terrible curse.” 

“Do you know where I could research something like that? Would it be in the restricted section?” 

He stepped closer, his kindness melting into concern. “You’re interested in the history or circumstances of such a spell, not the mechanics of it, correct?” 

“Absolutely,” I say. “Curious about the possibilities of magic, not casting the spell myself.” I shudder at the memory of my friends and classmates forced to act bizarrely and break each other’s hearts. “I can’t imagine doing that to someone.” 

“I imagine you could find something like that in the restricted section.” He turned and waved Asia and Amit into the room. “And if you promise to take an upstanding student like Asia here — sorry, Amit but the news of your recent bathroom excursion are dubious.” 

“Fair,” Amit said with a shrug. 

“If Asia goes with you, I can give you permission for the restricted section.” 

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Asia said. “I mean, him.” 

I looked at her, my eyes wide with what she had said. Lupin said something, and Asia said something back, but I kept my eyes focused on her. She led me out of the room by the hand, and I could have sworn I floated out into the hall. 

Her?

Her. 

Her. 

I didn’t know how she could have said that. I certainly didn’t feel like a her. I was the hairy monster in the closet, the thing terrifying enough to scare the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. I wasn’t the Ravenclaw beneath that creature, even if she did have my eyes. 

“Elliot!” Amit said, giving my shoulder a shake as we moved through the hallway towards Myrtle’s bathroom and my lacewings. They were almost done, though I knew it was a controversial thing to celebrate considering my present company. Well, except for Asia, right? 

Her. 

It’s like she soothed a pain I didn’t know I had. I mean, I knew about it, but only since that night in the girls’ dormitory. But even then — even since then — I didn’t know what was hurting. I still didn’t have a name for it. Transexual? No. Right? Right? 

“Are you okay?” Amit asked, shaking my shoulder once more. “Earth to Elliot.” 

“I’m … yeah. Processing.” I looked at Asia, but she was keeping her eyes on her feet, strangely quiet. 

“You heard that,” Amit said. “The voice describing Amelia’s boggart?” 

“Huh?” I couldn’t care less about Amelia’s boggart. Even the voice could bugger off for all I cared. 

Her.

“The voice. I heard it this time,” Amit said. “What about you, Asia?” 

“Mhmm,” she said quietly. 

“What is wrong with you two?” He yanked on our arms and pulled us to the side of the hallway as dozens of students moved past us in the opposite direction — going to the Great Hall. “We all just heard a voice no one else could hear, right?” 

“Yeah,” Asia said. “All three of us.” 

“Was that Amelia’s boggart?” 

Asia shook her head. “Why would no one else hear her boggart?”

Amit gestured to her with both arms as though she’d just said the smartest and obvious thing in the world, and then he turned to me, looking like he was presenting the brilliant Asia to the world stage. 

Her. 

“This,” Amit said. “This is exactly what worries me.” 

“Why would you hear it now and not during Trelawney’s class?” 

“Yes!” Amit shouted, and the rest of the hallway glanced at him. Asia reached up to cover his mouth. He said something beneath her hand, but we couldn’t make it out. 

“Will you shut up before things get weird again?” Asia asked. She looked out at the crowd of students going to lunch. Any of them could have their eyes turn green and fill the hall with the dreadful narrator’s voice. 

She slowly pulled her hand away from Amit’s mouth, and he said, “Finally, some good questions.” He turned to me. “Are you okay, El?” 

“I …” Her. The word played over and over in my head at different pitches, each one forming a different note from the same word. I could write a song with it if I knew anything about writing songs. It was there, floating in my head, so obvious I could almost touch it, like motes of dust dancing in a sunbeam. 

“He … she …” Asia looked embarrassed and flustered, and the feeling was contagious. “They’ve heard the voice longer than any of us. It’s freaky.” 

Amit looked back and forth between us, trying to sort out what was happening, but it’s not like I had any more of an idea than him. 

She. 

Just like that, Asia added not just a new note to the song, but it was like a whole new instrument. I could harmonise with it, and with a few more words like that, we might have a proper band. Or maybe a symphony if we kept going.

“I need to go check on the lacewings,” I said. 

“Good idea,” Asia said. “I’m coming too.” 

“Same,” Amit said. We all pushed against the flow of traffic towards Myrtle’s bathroom. Asia and Amit kept picking at the bizarre voice, and while I should have appreciated that I wasn’t crazy, I couldn’t be bothered. The voice was a door slammed in someone’s face, but Her and she were opened windows I could escape through. 

When we reach the bathroom, Myrtle popped out of the wall and screamed at the top of her lungs — which can get disturbingly high — and Amit shrieked back at her, his pitch matching her own impressively. 

“Oh,” Myrtle said, abandoning her screech. “I didn’t expect three.” 

“Hello Myrtle,” I said, going to my lacewings and giving them a stir. 

“You have to —”

“Fine,” I said to Asia. “You do it.” 

“Thank you.” She sat over the lacewings and made sure I didn’t screw them up. I was done pretending to be bothered by her perfectionism. We were so close to the potion being done, that I didn’t want to screw it up. If that meant submitting to her obnoxiously superior potion mind, then so be it. 

“Is he allowed here now?” Myrtle said, pointing to Amit. “Because I don’t like him.” 

“The feeling is mutual,” Amit said. 

“Anyone is allowed who supports the cause.” I stood up straighter, taking in the three of them. “We all support the cause, right?” 

“Of course,” Myrtle said at the same time that Asia said, “Yup.” 

We all turned to Amit. 

“I’m not against the cause,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “I’m just a guy who doesn’t understand the cause.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he quickly added, “But I’m open to being educated.” 

“Yes,” Asia said. “Let’s clear the air.” 

“Rowena,” Myrtle said, “I can rummage up the other ghosts if you want and chase them both out.” 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” I said, thinking about what Amit said earlier. I did hold things in and then somehow expected other people to read my mind. It was a shitty thing to do, and after everything everyone in this bathroom had done for me, they didn’t deserve it. 

“It should be an enthusiastic yes or banishment,” Myrtle said, pushing up the sleeves of her Ravenclaw robe and lifting her fists like a boxer. “Or a boxed ear.” 

Amit glared at Myrtle and was almost ready to lift his own fists — which was thoroughly stupid. Even if they were both corporeal, I doubted either of them could throw a punch to save their life — before I stepped between them. 

“Talking sounds good,” I said. I held my arms up as though to hold them apart, but as though to show me how foolish that was, Myrtle floated through my chest and hovered an inch away from Amit’s face. 

“If you hurt Rowena, I have nothing to do with the rest of my eternity other than haunt you.” 

“I … uh …” Amit looked at me and Asia for some comfort, but all he got from Asia was a scowl. I gave him a nervous shrug, not sure I wanted anyone fighting for me but also feeling overwhelmingly loved that people wanted to fight for me. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Amit looked past Myrtle at me. “And why is she calling you Rowena?” 

“That’s a different topic,” Asia said at the same time that Myrtle said, “That’s who she is.” 

She. 

“I …” All at once, all the excitement and thrill of the past five minutes — all the her and she and Rowena — crashed down around me. I didn’t know how to explain it, and I certainly didn’t know how to justify it. Was I Rowena? Was I her? Obviously not. All anyone had to do was look at me to know I wasn’t that. But did I want to be that? 

That question felt too hot to approach, like it was made of lava and dark magic. 

“I don’t know,” I said. “I need to sort that out.” 

“And we don’t need to rush that,” Myrtle said. 

“And that's not the point,” Asia added. “The point is what we’re going to do about this potion and this voice.” 

“The voice?” Myrtle asked. “The voice?” She hovered closer to me and whispered, “Do they know about it?” 

“We heard it,” Amit said. We all separated from each other, letting the tension of potential violence on my behalf easing out of the room. We surrounded the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion as though it was a fire keeping us warm against the night. 

“What did it say?” Myrtle asked. Asia and Amit recounted the story of the boggart while I sat and stared at the flames beneath the cauldron, too scared to look up and accidentally look into the eyes of my friends. I knew where Myrtle stood on all of this, but Asia’s stance was becoming murkier by the minute. And Amit? He thought I was insecure about my virility. Wouldn’t he be? Doesn’t that mean he won’t understand? Maybe I owed him the chance to prove himself, but what if he didn’t? Was knowing he was for sure on my side worth the risk of knowing he was for sure not on my side? 

And what about me? That was the real question, wasn’t it? What did I know about the situation? What did I want or think? Did I want to be Rowena? I certainly felt the glow of a warm light surge through my body when someone Asia and Myrtle said it because it wasn’t teasing. It was … I don’t know. 

And I certainly couldn’t sort that out with everyone staring at me. 

“Where do we start?” Amit asked. 

“The potion,” Asia and I said at the same time. 

“Alright, well …” Amit looked nervous. “You’re doing this.” 

“I am,” I said.

“For … what?” 

“Actually, nevermind,” I said. “Let’s talk about the voice.” 

“Rowena wants to try Polyjuice Potion again,” Myrtle said. “For science.” 

“Science?” Amit asked sceptically. When he arched his eyebrows dubiously, the dark and dangling curls on his forehead bounced a little. 

“Yes,” Asia said. “For science.” 

“Then what’s the hypothesis?” 

“Amit …” I looked up at him. My eyes were burning as they filled with tears, “I don’t know.” 

“Do you not know,” he said with a voice as soft as falling snow, “or are you too afraid to say it?” 

Three pairs of eyes focused on me, and I couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t as cruel as looking at my own reflection, but it was more vulnerable. I can look at a zit on my face in the mirror, hate it, and grapple with it in the familiar hostility of my own mind. But to have three people stare at the zit on my face and ask me what I feel about it, what I want to do about it, if I did it on purpose, did I know I left the house looking that way, did I want to —

“Elliot,” Asia said. I looked up at her, and though one of her eyes was hidden behind the bangs of her dark hair, the look in her eyes held me and uplifted me. Was it that she called me Elliot instead of Rowena? Or was it because she didn’t force the issue at this moment? 

Merlin’s beard, what did I have to do to stop my mind from buzzing and collapsing in on itself? 

“We can sort that out later,” Asia said. “You don’t need to justify everything you do.” 

Amit opened his mouth but closed it before he could say anything. 

“We’re all here,” Asia continued, “to support you. I don’t want to drink Polyjuice Potion.” She turned to Amit. “Do you?” 

“Never again,” he said with a polite chuckle. 

“I would if I could,” Myrtle said. “I’d like to have slender legs.” 

I laughed at that, and the knot in my stomach eased as the buzzing in my mind softened. 

“But we’re here,” Asia said, “because if you want it, we want to help. No one is here on their own behalf.” 

“Except to apologise if I ever said anything stupid,” Amit said. 

“Or if I forced anything on you,” Myrtle added. 

“Exactly,” Asia said with a nod. “And I’m sorry if I made you think this was weird or stupid or whatever. It’s not.” She looked at Amit. “His reason is stupid. Yours isn't.” 

“Hey,” Amit protested half-heartedly. Myrtle rolled her eyes, and Asia seized the moment of levity to move closer to me, sitting thigh to thigh as she stirred my lacewings. 

“But to be practical,” Asia said, “we all have to accept that the potion won’t be enough. I don’t think anyone here wants you to be Olivia Snarzle, you included.” 

“True,” I conceded. I wanted to look like her, but that wasn’t quite it. I wanted to be in her skin but not like a serial killer. I wanted to know what it was to move through the world the way someone like Olivia Snarzle did. The way a woman did. 

“And I don’t want to steal her face or make anything bad reflect on her,” I added. 

“That sounds like you, mate,” Amit said with a laugh as he sat down on my other side by the cauldron — not as close as Asia. “Stealing faces and committing crimes. I’m sure you’ll be  a regular Harry Potter in no time.” 

“Shut up,” I said as I leaned over and nudged him with my shoulder. 

“Don’t say that name,” Myrtle said with a shudder. 

“And the potion isn’t a long term solution,” Asia said. “This whole potion is impractical to really address what … interests you?” 

Asia looked at me for help as though I could finish that sentence for her. 

“Bothers you?” Myrtle suggested. 

“What you want?” Amit added. 

“All of the above,” I said with a chuckle. They all smiled warmly at me, and I exhaled slowly, feeling my heart rate drop a bit. 

“I support this,” Myrtle said. “I really could do without this horrid stench.” 

“And the tedious potion,” I muttered. 

“So we need something that lasts. The Immutability Paradox says there probably isn’t a way to do that, but all these things have ways around them. Probably in the restricted section.” 

My eyes widened. “Where we now have permission to go,” I said. 

“You have permission,” Amit said with a pathetic whine to his voice. 

“But you can work on the other part,” Asia said. “A way for Elliot to be truly Elliot while we’re sorting this all out.” 

“Which is?” he asked. 

“Well, these lacewings are basically done, and while we can certainly use Olivia for the base, there’s no reason Elliot needs to go around posing as her.” 

She smiled at us knowingly, but Amit and I looked at each other, absolutely clueless as to what she had in mind.