My eyes opened. Something felt heavy. My chest felt strangely heavy. Graves Hermione gazed blankly up at the ceiling. The red and gold tapestries of Gryffindor Tower. The same ceiling every morning. Nothing changed. It was supposed to stay the same. "…Huh?" She slowly looked at her own hands. Thin. Really thin. The hands that had been a bit more solid yesterday were now unmistakably someone else's. She could see long chestnut hair spread across the pillow. (Wait. This is all…) She lifted the blanket and checked her body. A white blouse and black skirt from Gryffindor Tower. A skirt. "————!!!!!" She screamed. The scream echoed down the corridor like dominoes falling. A shriek from the next room. Another from the room after that. And another. As if someone was waking up all of Hogwarts Castle at once, the voices cascaded one after another. The door burst open. A black-haired girl flew in. Round green eyes. Her entire face twisted in shock. Frozen like she'd just seen a fat owl, her mouth just flapping open and closed. "[scared]I… I have breasts…" "[scared]Me too!!" Both screamed at the same time. And froze at the same time. More screams echoed from down the corridor. --- The dormitory's gender-restricted staircase—the magic that let only boys go to the boys' floor and only girls to the girls' floor—was broken this morning. When you stepped on it, there was no sound. The stairs that normally turned into a slide when girls tried to go down were somehow letting everyone walk on them normally. The curse had scrambled the magic. So the corridor was chaos. Former male students in girls' bodies and former female students in boys' bodies were scattered throughout the hallway, pointing at each other and screaming. "[surprised]What? Who the hell are you!?" "[surprised]You're the one!!" In the midst of the confusion, Hermione stood in front of a mirror. Bright almond-shaped brown eyes. Fluffy chestnut long hair. A slender, delicate frame. A small star-shaped earring on her left ear. The red and gold Gryffindor uniform with a white blouse and black skirt. An unfamiliar girl stared back at her from the mirror. (Is this… me?) Her expression was usually sharp and focused, but now anxiety overwhelmed it. Only the earring on her left ear seemed to insist, "This is you." "[serious]…Let's go. To the Great Hall." Harriet's voice trembled, but she was still trying to look forward. Hermione nodded. --- The path to the Great Hall was terrible. Hogwarts Castle has 142 staircases. At least twelve of them capriciously change their destination. The ones that usually only did this on Fridays were moving freely and recklessly this morning. "Wait, this isn't the right way!" "This staircase changed again!" "I wanted to go down but ended up going up!" Students were stranded on the stairs. In the corridors, former female students in boys' bodies and former male students in girls' bodies were arguing—"Move over." "No, I got here first." Harriet got on the wrong staircase halfway and took an extra three minutes going the long way around. (I'm going to be late… but that's not even the issue right now.) But the fact that she was thinking about such things felt very like herself, Hermione thought briefly. When they finally reached the Great Hall, the ceiling showed the dawn sky. A faint orange hue. Not the real sky, but magically projected—yet somehow it looked more beautiful than the real thing. The four house tables—Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff—held about a thousand students, all in complete chaos. Screams, murmurs, and the sound of Chocolate Frogs hopping around filled the air. Headmaster Dumbledore stood on the dais. Very long white hair and a white beard. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes were as calm as always, completely unrelated to what had happened this morning. "[gentle]Good morning, everyone." The Great Hall fell silent. "[gentle]Last night, near the Restricted Section of the library—that area behind the iron bars that requires a staff permission slip to enter—a Gender Swap Curse was activated." "[gentle]It's a venerable curse, recorded only once before here at Hogwarts, about a hundred years ago." Someone slumped onto their table at the word "venerable." "[gentle]Furthermore, based on School Rule 47—the provision allowing classes to continue in emergencies where there is no direct threat to student life—we will resume normal classes starting today. Have a good day." He clapped his hands together and returned to his seat. The Great Hall went quiet. Three seconds later, every face was painted with despair. "Is he serious about classes?" "Our bodies changed!" "Is the headmaster sane?" Hermione clenched her fists. (There has to be a solution. There absolutely has to be.) Determination and urgency burned in her chest at the same time. --- She went to Professor McGonagall's office after breakfast, in the short time before classes began. "[serious]…So you're Graves Hermione." The professor stood in front of a mirror. Staring intently, as if confirming her face over and over. The curse had softened her usually sharp features slightly. But her eyes behind her spectacles still held their characteristic sharpness. "[serious]The most diligent student in Gryffindor, if I recall." Her hand trembled faintly as she signed the permission slip. Hermione watched and thought. (Even the professor is shaken.) She had been raised by Muggle parents—people without magic, ordinary people. She knew nothing of the magical world. So when the Hogwarts acceptance letter arrived, she devoured every magic book she could find. Books on spells, history, magical creatures, herbology. She read through countless volumes on sleepless nights. Knowledge was her only weapon. Children born into magical families knew things "as a matter of course" that she had to chase through books. That's why she threw herself into research harder than anyone. (So this time too—I have to solve it with knowledge.) "[serious]I will find the way to break this curse. I promise." Hermione said this as she took the permission slip. Professor McGonagall was silent for one second. "[gentle]…Don't rush too much." With only that, she turned back to the mirror. Hermione stepped into the corridor and spent the rest of the time turning those words over in her mind. But she couldn't understand them. How could she not rush? --- The Restricted Section was on the second floor of the East Wing, away from the Great Hall. Standing before the iron bars, Hermione held the professor's signed permission slip up to the warning charm's light receptor. The bars slowly opened. In that moment, she caught a faint smell. Burnt. (What?) She stepped inside. Bookshelves lined the space. About two thousand volumes of dangerous books. The books supposedly screamed at night, but it was daytime now, so they just sat quietly on the shelves. Carefully examining the shelves from end to end, she found it. "Permutatio Corporis." An ancient manuscript written in Latin. The leather cover was sun-faded, cracked in places. It was heavy in her hands. She turned the pages. Activation conditions. Historical records. An account of the first incident at Hogwarts in the 1890s. A passage mentioning that Headmistress Everina Fitchberg had handled the situation. And— (What?) The page that should have contained the cure was completely burned away. Not just burned. Cleanly. Precisely. Just that one page. The edges showed scorch marks. Every other page was intact, but the chapter on the cure was completely gone. Only a fragmented passage remained. 'Related to the waxing and waning of the moon. Acceptance of emotion is the key.' Hermione crouched down and examined the burn marks closely. (Fresh.) Not old. This was burned yesterday or the day before—right around when the curse activated. Someone had deliberately burned just this page. (Why? To destroy evidence? Or—) She heard someone running in the corridor. Hermione quietly closed the manuscript. --- Night fell. The Gryffindor common room had a fire burning, and the red and gold tapestries swayed. Even on a night like this, this room never changed, Hermione thought briefly. She looked out the window. The Scottish night sky was black and deep. The lights of Hogsmeade village, three kilometers to the northwest, were faintly visible in the distance. The moon hung in the sky. Not a full moon. But it was growing rounder. (Related to the waxing and waning of the moon—) The fragment echoed in her mind. Hermione stared blankly at the moon and calculated. (About ten days until the full moon?) She sat in front of the fireplace and spread out copies of the manuscript. She read the remaining pages again. Her eyes stopped at the passage about acceptance of emotion being the key. (What does it mean to accept emotion? Does feeling something break the curse? But what?) The door to the next room opened slightly. "[whispers]Hermione… were you okay today?" A familiar voice, lower than usual. Her childhood friend Wilkes Ronalda. In the brief glimpse, she had long red hair that she was touching awkwardly, and she was fumbling with the sleeves of the girls' uniform. "[serious]I'm fine. I'll definitely find the solution." Hermione answered. Like she was telling herself, her voice a little stronger than usual. Ronalda started to say something, then stopped. The door closed quietly. She was alone again. Hermione returned her gaze to the page. The fireplace flames flickered. Acceptance of emotion. No matter how many times she read it, she couldn't understand. She'd never realized that a question knowledge couldn't answer could be so frustrating. Without finding an answer, the night grew deeper.