The Relative Truth

Title: The Relative Truth
Author: Lupusdragon
Author’s email: lupusdragon06@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Summery: For his entire life, Harry Potter believed himself to be a girl. This is the story of his life and the potion accident that changed it.
Pairings: Severus/Harry
Warnings: Exceedingly AU, mental illness, cross-dressing, rape, attempted suicide, slash
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. Only this perversion of a plot is my own.
Archive: Certainly. I will not say no, just let me know when you do. That goes for anything of mine.
Authors Notes: 1) Sixteen is the age of consent where I live. If actions of a sexual nature between an adult and a 16-year-old bother you, please go elsewhere.
2) Forgive the name, it was too good to pass up… you’ll see what I mean
3) This starts in first person present tense and switches to third person past after the second divider
4) Due to the nature of this story, I have to switch between using masculine and feminine pronouns when discussing Harry. I apologize in advance for any confusion.


The Relative Truth

Chapter 1

For five years it had all worked out perfectly. No one had suspected a thing and the child had been safe. Five years of subterfuge and conspiracy down the proverbial drain all because of one spectacular error by one incompetent Gryffindor in one ill-fated Potions class.


A little over 14 years ago, a one-year-old orphaned child had been brought to the home of its last remaining relatives, its deceased mother’s sister, brother-in-law and nephew, only a few months older than the child itself. It was a beautiful child, with wide, bright green eyes and curly black locks that could have made many a grown woman envious. The child was so delicate that whether it was a boy or girl was impossible to determine by examining only the face.

To Petunia Dursley, the child was godsend.

After the painful and difficult labour and subsequent birth of her own son, Dudley, Petunia discovered that she would never be able to have another child. Her dreams of having a daughter to pamper and spoil were completely dashed. Her husband, Vernon, would not hear of adopting another child, nothing but another mouth to feed. He could not, however, refuse his wife’s kin a place in his house. Thus, the child, known for a year and ever after by the wizarding world as Harry James Potter, was taken into the Dursley home under the name Asphodeline, a flower that, while useful in potions, is a member of the lily family. The name was obviously in honour of Petunia’s sister, Lily, the child’s mother.

Petunia had no trouble raising the androgynous child as a girl, the way in which she wanted. Neither Dudley nor Vernon ever saw the child without clothes of some sort, Petunia being the only one to bath or change the child. As the dark hair grew out and the child began to grow, it became even easier to hide his true identity. Dressed in pleated skirts and white blouses that were the standard school uniform, the child truly looked feminine. A little makeup to hide the prominent scar on his forehead and he was even exotically beautiful. And as Harry was never taught anatomy, health classes in grammar school do not cover that subject, he had no reason not to believe he was indeed a little girl named Asphodeline Isabelle Evans.

The day that Petunia received Harry’s acceptance letter to Hogwarts was one of the most difficult in her life. While she had expected it, given her sister and brother-in-law’s own considerable powers, it did not make the fact that she was going to lose her beautiful daughter any easier. However, Petunia also feared for Asphodeline’s safety; it is no secret that her husband hates anything that he cannot explain, and magic certainly falls under that category. Petunia herself had been jealous of Lily’s gift but had been able to grow past her own bitterness and did not take out her negative emotions on the child in her care. She did not know if her husband would have such scruples if he ever discovered the truth of his niece’s heritage.

When she had explained the situation at dinner that night, Vernon had been livid. Only the fact that he believed in Asphodeline Evans’ assumed identity prevented him from unleashing his anger on the petite child. As it was, his rant when on for over an hour and several dishes and glasses were broken in the process. In the course of his anger, he made many disparaging remarks about Asphodeline’s parents, especially Petunia’s family and magic in general. Watching the display of loathing, Petunia was resolved that Hogwarts would be the best place for her little girl and promptly sent back a letter stating that Asphodeline Evans would be joining her classmates at Hogwarts at the start of the term.

It should come as no surprise that we were all very confused by the response. We, of course, had no record of any witch named Asphodeline Evans and had been expecting a response on behalf of Harry Potter. At the time we knew nothing of Petunia Dursley’s dementia, or any of this illusion. Contrary to belief, Albus did not monitor all of the coming and goings of Number 4 Privet Drive. Of course, when the letter came, the headmaster just had to send me to determine the cause of the confusion. I was shocked when, upon reaching the Dursley residence, I was introduced to the child that, intellectually, I knew had to be the Potter boy. The notorious scar was present, as well as Lily’s vibrant emerald eyes. Those two signs should have been enough to identify the child who was the Saviour of Our World. However, my eyes and my brain did not agree with the image before me. Surely no boy could ever look so beautiful, and I had seen my fair share of beautiful young men. Indeed, I had shared my bed with quite a few of them in my day. Yet, here he was, in the flesh. The son of the man I had hated in school was standing before as the most attractive female I had ever encountered. Presented with this shy girl, I knew immediately that there would be a world and a half of troubles.

Mrs. Dursley sobbed when I told her that I would have to take the child back with me at once. Albus, not to mention 99 percent of the magical population, would have had my head if I had left Harry Potter with such a mentally unstable woman and her hateful spouse. His poor aunt had been torn by her grief and seemed truly to believe the lie she had concocted surrounding young Harry’s life. To my chagrin, the child would only respond to Asphodeline or Miss Evans. Indeed, she had no knowledge at all of her previous life as Harry Potter. Granted, it had only been one year, but it had been the most spectacular year in history, or very nearly.

I had no idea what the Albus would do about the situation. This was the Boy Who Lived, the child who was supposed to destroy Voldemort once and for all, and not only did he not have a clue about any of it, he did not even know that he was, in fact, a he at all. There were so many potential pitfalls in this situation. However, this also had the potential to be the best way to hid the boy from those who would cause him harm. Besides that, clearly we could not at once dissolve the child’s notions about himself, that would be far too traumatic, and even I was not that callous.

There was nothing for it but to house the child in castle for the remainder of the summer. He could not, nor would he ever, go back to his relatives. Immediately after the headmaster’s first meeting with the boy he had contacted St. Mungos to have Petunia Dursley treated for her instability. While muggle medicine and treatment also possibly could have served, she was too much of an unnecessary risk. Given free reign in the non-magical world, there was no telling how consuming the illness would become or who would eventually been able to take advantage of what seeming incoherencies and rantings she would voice. There was also no knowing how the boy would be treated if he ever returned to that household, what with Dursley’s hatred and the boy’s only kin institutionalised. Of course, as I was the only professor, other than Albus himself, who remained at the school during the Summer Holiday, the child was moved into a chamber near my own in the dungeons.

It was one of the most difficult experiences of my life to have to go with the boy to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies. With a note from Albus and the key to the Potter family vault, I had no difficulty accessing Harry’s fortune to pay for his supplies. I was shocked to see just how great of a fortune the Potters had. At the very least, the child would want for nothing. However, it nearly broke my heart to have to buy him a girl’s uniform and feminine dress robes. Again, all it took was a note from Albus to a few of the most discreet shop owners and nothing about the child’s true identity slipped. Harry was treated as any young witch with a great sum of money would have been treated. While Asphodeline fawned over the different materials and brightly coloured fabrics, I watched, stricken with grief. I know I should not have cared, that this was the son of my enemy. I could even have looked at it from the perspective that, if the boy was happy, what difference did it make? But no, what bothered me most was that Harry was living a lie. It was not one of his own making, which made the situation that much worse. No one should be lied to or used to the extent that Harry was.

My musings took the better part of the day, and by the time I was aware that Harry had finished, I was loaded down with at least a dozen parcels. It was worth it, though, to see him smile. I am glad, in retrospect, that I let him have that happiness when he could take it. When we had finished with his wardrobe and school supplies, leaving the post owl to Hagrid, who had begged me to be allowed to buy Harry a gift, the last stop was Olivernder’s. The old proprietor did not even comment on the similarities between the boy’s wand and the one I knew all too well, although a brief glance in my direction told me that he was all too aware of it. Truly, the man never forgets a wand.