you raise me up || harry potter

chapter 39

»»————-　song:　————-««

village

★ by wrabel ★

❝ they say,

"don't dare, 
don't you even go there,
cutting off your long hair,

you do as you're told." ❞

♢ ♢ ♢

Harry knew was a wizard. Not a witch. That was a certainty in his life, constant that wouldn't change. Besides, the Hogwarts dorm staircases had spoken. They were never wrong.

But Harry also knew that people who were not biologically male and didn't transition yet probably didn't spontaneously grow facial hair.

And there were definitely some whiskery hairs growing in. Weird, Harry thought, bringing his face so close to the bathroom mirror that his nose brushed against his reflection. 

 "Watch yourself, dear," his reflection said.

Harry jumped back. Sometimes he forgot that some wizarding mirrors worked slightly differently than normal mirrors—they liked to give advice.

"And shave off that patchy mustache of yours. You look younger without it," his reflection added maternally.

A mustache? This thing? It was a mustache? And why did Snape have talking mirrors in his house? It wasn't like he seemed to use their advice. Harry felt a little disloyal when he chuckled at the imagery of the mirror telling Snape he needed to use more shampoo.

Snape. Harry suddenly felt a swooping anxiety. There was no way Snape wouldn't notice it, and there was no way he'd leave it alone. Somehow the Harry dreaded the thought of that awkward conversation. 

When he slid into his seat at breakfast five minutes after lingering in the bathroom nervously, Snape didn't look over his paper when he said good morning. All the better, Harry thought, and dug into his scrambled eggs. 

When Snape finally did put down the paper, he looked irritated and troubled at the same time. "Absolutely no sighting of Sirius Black," he muttered. "Well, difficulty finding him is to be expected, but no valid sightings at all? With the entire Ministry and the Muggle police on a manhunt for him?" He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. 

Harry didn't have anything helpful to add, so he arranged his face into something that he hoped resembled pensive worry. Sometimes he forgot that a murderer was on the run for the purpose of finding him, and he liked forgetting. It was just too bizarre. He couldn't say he was scared, since Hogwarts was so secure, but to think that he was the most important thing in the thoughts of one deranged man...

Snape stood up and almost walked past Harry before he frowned at him. Oh well, it was only a matter of time. 

Snape made a movement as though to lift Harry's chin to see a little better, but his hand froze halfway there and immediately returned back to his side stiffly. His face gave nothing away, though, and he stood there for a moment.

"Potter, do you have any Metamorphmoga in your bloodline?" he asked, looking a little perplexed. 

"Er... what?" 

"A Metamorphmogas can change their appearance at will," Snape murmured. "Very rare, but they exist. It's a spectrum too—some can change completely change their appearance without any effort, and others struggle to change the color of their hair."