One day, after class, a nervous Ravenclaw second year walks up to McGonagall’s desk and says that she has a question. She tries to sound casual, but her shaking hands give her away. McGonagall allows it, and the girl asks if it’s possible to transfigure yourself. Not like an animagus, or a disguise, but just self-transfiguration.
McGonagall has had this question before from students, usually hoping for an easy way to look like the glamorous witches and wizards they see in the papers. She very sternly tells the student that it’s difficult, and it’s not right anyway. The girl looks like she’s about to cry, and in a voice just above a whisper says “But I just want my outsides to match my insides. If I looked like a boy too, then maybe people would understand that I am one.”
McGonagall freezes with her hands full of papers, and the student turns to go. As she…he reaches the door, the professor calls him back. “There are ways. Madam Pomfrey would know more than I do. A series of spells at St. Mungo’s, I believe. You must be of legal age, though.”
The student stops, eyes still full of tears but now there’s also a gleam of hope. McGonagall nods briskly, and the students understands that he is dismissed and scurries away. The teacher sighs and makes a note to herself to mention this to the Grey Lady. She’s always had a soft spot for the misunderstood, and will doubtless make an extra effort to look out for the boy.