"Heads up—someone's coming."
As soon as Loren said it, Holly, Hermione, Ron, and Neville all sat up straight and cracked open their textbooks to "preview" the lesson. Loren glanced around—everyone looked convincingly studious—so he, too, for once laid a book out in front of him and prepared to enjoy the show.
The first to enter were a few Slytherin kids. They came in chatting and only then noticed the room wasn't empty. Seeing Loren's group inside wasn't strange—Loren and Hermione were always the earliest arrivals, and Harry, Ron, and Neville often tagged along. Still, something felt… off. They couldn't place it, though, so they shuffled to their seats and started reading. That, too, had become part of Hogwarts' "new study vibe."
More students trickled in—Snakes and Lions alike. Some greeted Loren. They sensed something unusual but didn't spot what it was—until Seamus arrived.
He came in with two other Gryffindors and tossed a casual hello to his four dorm-mates. They replied as usual—except Seamus immediately cocked his head.
"Harry, are you under the weather? Your voice sounds… different."
Holly kept her eyes on the page, then lifted her head and answered, "I'm fine, Seamus."
That one look made Seamus yelp. "Who are you? Where's Harry?"
Every head in the classroom snapped up. Only now did they register what they'd been missing: the "Harry" hunched over a book had long hair, and looking up revealed—Harry had become a girl.
Under the barrage of baffled stares, Holly raised her right hand to show the wristband Loren had given her. "It's this," she said helplessly. "Loren's wristband turned me into a girl. There's a countdown. When it ends, I change back."
Neatly shifting the blame to Loren, she made it clear she hadn't done this on purpose.
"Right," Loren added smoothly, "it's a new prank device Fred and George are developing—turns boys into girls. The one Holly's wearing is a test unit. Once we finish testing, you can ask them about ordering."
As the resident non-stick pan, Loren deftly slid the pan to Fred and George. Later, he intended to pass the "gender-swap wristband (junior edition)" schematics to the twins—they'd be thrilled to take the heat.
Most students bought it. A few Slytherins didn't. They knew how advanced something like this would be and doubted the penniless Weasley twins could pull it off. Still, they had sense enough not to challenge Loren aloud. They'd just ask upper-years to feel the twins out later—and if real, buy one to bring home for "research."
With Loren's explanation, attention shifted from Holly to the gadget. Soon everyone was whispering about how to use such a prank. The low, rolling buzz carried far down the stone corridors of the dungeons—far enough that Professor Snape, approaching from the far end, could hear it.
As he drew closer, the words became clearer. He picked out the most repeated name—"Harry." Well, of course he did.
In Snape's mind, Harry occupied a peculiar place. The boy looked almost exactly like his father; one glance dredged up James, old humiliations, and Lily's death. It made Snape want to hiss Sectumsempra. And yet—Harry had Lily's eyes, and that stirred guilt he could never quiet.
The classroom door slammed open. A gust of chill air entered with Professor Snape. The gloom that followed him made the students fall silent at once, heads bowed.
Snape scanned the room. Every head stayed down.
Except Loren's. Loren actually winked, the very picture of someone settling in to watch a farce.
Snape's expression flickered. He had half a mind that something was off—but Loren was always stirring trouble and, infuriatingly, untouchable. He let it pass and began with the usual acid.
"I heard your babbling from the corridor. This is a Potions classroom, not a trollish debate hall. You are here to brew, not bleat. Or do you plan to boil your draughts with your mouths?"
Venom duly sprayed, he turned to his daily quarry.
"Mr. Potter. Stand up and explain why everyone was chattering about you. Another heroic rescue of the wizarding world to trumpet—"
Holly rose at once, eyes wide, pitiful. The look hit him like a Bludger.
Snape's voice dwindled, then broke. For a flash of a moment he wasn't in the dungeon. He was seventeen again. Remorse, memory, a tiny, aching sweetness—Lily—
He yanked himself back and barked, louder than needed, "Potter, what are you playing at?"
"I'm sorry, Professor," Holly said, lifting her right hand to show the band. "It's a device Loren gave me. I'll change back when the timer ends."
Snape glanced at the band, then fixed on Loren. Loren silently mouthed, "How do you like the gift, Professor?"
Snape read his lips, ignored him, and turned back to Holly. "Sit down, Miss Holly."
His voice was unrecognizably gentle—no trace of the usual bite. Holly wondered if she'd misheard. Had Snape really told her to sit without docking points?
The room erupted in whispers—especially among the Slytherins. Something was very wrong with their Head of House. The class devolved into a hush of alarm and gossip.
"Sit down, Miss Holly. We're beginning," Snape repeated, still soft. This time, Holly heard clearly and obeyed.
For the first time, Snape smiled.
Perhaps from disuse, it looked more like pain than warmth. The entire class shivered as one and sat ramrod straight. The dungeon had never been so quiet.
Snape ignored the murmurs. In excellent spirits, he launched into the lesson.
As he taught, the Slytherins were sure of it now: their Head of House had gone mad. His voice was softer, his stride lighter; he didn't lacerate every bungled stir and mis-cut root. He merely paused, murmured a correction, and moved on—eager, it seemed, not to waste a moment away from supervising Holly.
The result? More errors, more overboiled brews, more near-disasters. This Snape was hard to adapt to.
Hardest of all for Holly: he spent half the period at her shoulder, guiding, correcting, and—Merlin help them—all but praising her technique. When her potion turned out, he even awarded Gryffindor a point.
The collective gasp might have worsened global warming. Two cauldrons nearly toppled.
When the strangest Potions class in living memory ended, the students filed out wearing the same stunned expression.
"Mr. Angus. My office," Snape said.
Loren, satisfied with the show, was packing up. He squeezed Hermione's hand, asking her to wait for him in the Great Hall, and followed Snape.
In the office, the professor stared at him for a long beat, saying nothing. Loren didn't indulge him. His eyes wandered instead to the cupboards along the walls, cataloging rare ingredients he hadn't seen before.
At last, the prickly man spoke first. "Your prank worked, Mr. Angus."
He tossed Loren a notebook—his own research notes from youth. Just like that, a gift.
Loren accepted it, flipped a few pages, and found plenty of substance. He slid it into his robe to savor later, then pulled out a neat stack of white paper—the only such stationery anyone at Hogwarts used—and set it on Snape's desk.
"Professor, I think this might be helpful. Read it when you have time. I should go—curious what's new on the lunch menu."
By the time Snape looked up, Loren was gone. Only the white stack remained.
He drew it closer. Across the top, in clear script: "On the Study of Gender-Transition Potions."
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