Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; JK Rowling does. I also do not own a pimp cane. Just thought I'd let you know to make you feel a bit safer.
Warnings: contains an actual explanation for gender-bending! Ohmahgawsh! Slight possibility of slash in future, I dunno. OH! And I like pudding! That is a dangerous association, pudding-lady! D:
Important Info: Takes place in middle of 5th year(after the snake incident). It will switch POV and scene as necessary. Oh, and, uhm, this is not character-biased—you will see this in a realistic setting as possible, including people's reactions and…whatnot. OwO takes off from page 497 of Chapter 23!
Summary: Everything about the life of those in the magical community is affected by magic—from tying shoes, to home defense, to nose-picking—so it is only logical that the way babies' genders of that magical community are determined is affected by that magic constantly surrounding and affecting them… especially those suddenly forced into close contact with vast amounts of magic after practically living without it for an extended period of time…
Harry, after all he had just gone through in the past 24 odd hours—the horrific vision, the turmoil of not knowing Mr. Weasley's fate, the disastrous hospital visit, and Dumbledore sending Phineas to tell him to stay put like a good little boy—knew he would be too exhausted to fight sleep as he lay in bed, pretending he did not hear Ron's voice calling awkwardly about dinner. The troubled teen let himself drift off to a, with any luck, a normal sleep, hoping he could wake up the next morning and avoid them all…
Harry slept a deeper sleep than he thought he would, waking at 5 am instead of his intended 4. Oddly enough, after all that sleep, he felt peculiarly exhausted—when he opened his eyes, he found it difficult to keep them from shutting, almost falling right back to sleep. Ron's snores, however, reminded him of his 'avoid them all to keep them safe' plan. He lifted his arms from his prone position, growing more worried now that he saw the image of his limbs shaking in the dark room. A bad feeling rising sour in his gut, almost nauseas, he forced his protesting, throbbing body out of bed. He swayed on his feet, the sudden, alien sense of disequilibrium crashing through his body, confusing his senses. He held completely still to avoid falling and waking Ron, waiting for the moment of unbalance to pass… Fifteen seconds later, and he was horrified that he still felt off-kilter. He cautiously moved forward towards where he knew his glasses lay on the bedside table, the tilted world around him seeming to move oddly before him. Slowly, painfully, he grasped his glasses and placed them awkwardly on his face, expecting the world to some into focus- it did not. In fact, his vision seemed to worsen with his glasses. His fear increased, and he jerkily tore his glasses off, panic rising in his chest.
'What in the heck is going on?' he thought with horrendously increasing dread—could this perhaps be a side effect from his vision? He had to leave the room, balance or no. Harry clutched his glasses in his one hand, his wand in the other, and lurched out of the room and into the hall. He caught himself from tripping over the side of the banister, and something black caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He warily moved his aching head around, seeing nothing out of place… His nausea increased from the movement of his head, and he thought dazedly, 'Bathroom.'
Somehow, mostly through force of will, Harry managed to get to the nearest bathroom without waking anyone. His whole body felt battered from the short walk as he finally slid the bolt to the heavy old door shut, sinking down to the cold tile floor. He sat in silence in the musty bathroom, willing his unsteady bile and disorientation down. Two minutes passed in the dingy bathroom…five minutes… seven minutes, and his vertigo eased up enough for him to stand slowly without fear of falling.
Rising on unsteady legs, Harry grasped the edge of the cracked porcelain sink. He raised his tired face to see just how terrible lo—
"GAH!" He slapped a hand over his mouth as he stumbled backwards frantically, staring at the strange image in the spotted mirror in alarm—why was their a girl in the mirror! He blinked hard and removed his hand—the girl did the same. He waved a shaking hand—the girl did so as well. Though tired, completely disoriented and terrified, Harry knew how mirrors worked.
He approached the visage with his wand raised in his trembling fist. He looked at the girl—pale and terrified, startling green eyes and irritated lightning bolt scar bright against her pale skin and long black hair, quaking in enormous flannel pajamas-, then down at his own body. Everything was slimmer, more feminine; petite little hands and feet, skinny arms and legs. In a daze of confusion, Harry jerked at the front of his pajama top, looking down it to find- "OH GOD-" He shoved a fist into his mouth, muffling his screams of horror and did what he knew had to come next. Pajama pants and underwear met the ground, sealing his worst nightmare. He grasped his head in his hands and sank to the floor, whimpering slightly passed his firmly closed lips. He rocked there on the dirty bathroom floor, his heart and thoughts racing like a bullet burrowing through his brain. '-How cloud this be happening he was a boy not a girl it was wrong oh God what about those things on his chest they are there and was it Voldemort what if the others find out is it real and oh god oh god Oh God Oh God OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD-'
Unable to hold it back, the acidic remnants from whatever he had last consumed jumped up his esophagus, demanding exit. The sickly sweet, grayish substance spurted forth messily past his fingers and he gagged, retching helplessly. He crawled, vomiting piteously, to the grimy toilet, and lay halfway across it as he finished. His stomach muscles finally finished contracting, and he breathed as calmly as he could through his nose, not letting himself process any more until he regained some energy.
He panted, and eventually breathed evenly. He struggled, finally sat himself atop the toilet, and let himself attempt to deal with the facts here-'I know I am a-a girl now. I'm female. I can't deny it. Maybe forever, maybe(hopefully) not. Alright. I somehow turned into a girl the first time sleeping after my vision of Voldemort… He had to have done it. It's too much of a coincidence. But why? Maybe…maybe it's part of this whole 'weapon' thing—that's it! He's turning me into a weapon b-by possessing me and…well, I don't know what being a girl has to do with that, but he is a genius, so it's no wonder I don't understand.' Harry let his—scratch that, her head fall into her shaking hands, overwhelmed, 'I can't let them see me like this, it's probably part of his plan! I can't endanger the others, and I wouldn't want them to see me like this under any circumstances—I have to leave. Now.'
Harry stood on wobbly legs, bound and determined, Phineas' warning be damned. She couldn't go through her original plan, which would involve going near the others to retrieve her things—she would have to leave with what she had on her at the moment, though it would pain her to leave the few material possessions she treasured behind. This also meant no money nor change of clothes, which left her with few options as to where she could run to…
Harry shakily pulled her pajama pants and underwear back on, clutched her wand tightly, and stepped softly into the hall. Now that she had finally emptied her unsteady stomach, Harry found her disequilibrium greatly reduced, and she walked fairly noiselessly through the dark house to the kitchen. She inched around the doorframe, relived to see it empty of any of the house's frequent visitors. Harry stilled in front of the old stone fireplace, not wanting to leave but knowing what staying would mean for those she loved so dearly. It was with a stronger grip that she grabbed a handful of sparkling powder from the jar on the mantelpiece. Now, where to go…? Everyone would expect her to go to familiar yet distant places—Diagon alley, Private Drive, etc…but, what if she hid in the open, yet where no one but her could get to…? Her mind set, she tossed the powder into the low-burning fire and said clearly yet softly, "Hogwarts kitchen," and stepped through the high green flames.
Harry was quite glad that her stomach emptied itself before her floo trip, as she felt her throat muscles contract on instinct at the unnerving swirling of her body through the warm passageways of the floo network. Harry felt some skin be ground from the palms of her hands as she lurched out of the fireplace into a bustling kitchen full of elves. Of course, they'd be making breakfast for any of the insanely early risers, Harry remembered with a groan. The elves nearest him paused in their movement, and Harry, thinking of no better excuse, blurted out in his new, squeaky voice, "I-I was really hungry, sorry!"
The mass of elves grinned and pounced as one, practically burying the girl under plates of bacon and eggs. "J-Just some toast is fine!" she chocked out.
"Of course Miss!" came the answer, multiplied a dozen times over in varying shrill notes. Harry collected her stack of toast and practically flew out the door, calling breathlessly behind her, "Thank you!"
She shut the painting of the silver fruit bowl behind her and stared down at the stack of toast, realizing that she'd need something to eat eventually… Giving her head a shake, her tousled black hair flying around madly, she remembered her objective, and took off cautiously at a light run to her 'hiding place.'
She ran, and as she did so, she realized that her feet were bare against the freezing stone floor. Well, she couldn't exactly help that now could she? Luck must have been shining on her, as she did not run into a single living or dead thing on her journey. That certainly didn't stop her nerves from urging her to sprint the last corridor, though. She dashed inside the blessed room, shut the door and let out a long-held breath. She had almost made it, now all she needed to do was-
"What are you doing here?" came a miserable voice to her left, making her jump about a foot in the air. Crap, she forgot about Myrtle! The constantly depressed ghost that haunted the second floor girl's bathroom, how could she forget? Ah, she better not have run out of lies…
"Ah, uhm, Nearly-Headly Nick wanted to see you about something! He sent me since I was up so early, yeah!" she invented wildly.
Myrtle fully surprised Harry by giving a giggle and asking shyly, "Really? I'm needed?"
Though she felt a twinge of remorse for the tears she knew her fib would cause the ghost, Harry had no choice, "Yes, he says it's a bit urgent, so you'd better hurry. He's in the, uhm, Great Hall."
Myrtle giggled again and took off through the door. Harry let out another shaky breath—would she ever catch a break? She approached the last sink, the one she thought she'd parted ways with forever just a few years ago. Kneeling down, she stared at the metal snake on the pipe connected to the sink, imagining it to be alive…"Open!" came out the hiss. The wall behind the sink opened, and heaving a sigh, Harry tucked his wand, glasses, and tied-up napkin of toast under his pajama top before awkwardly climbing in the stone chute.
Another breath, and away she went, down, down, down, down… She landed in the stone chamber much as she had in the kitchen only minutes earlier—poorly and with no grace at all. This time it was her bottom and the soles of her feet that bore the grunt of her landing. She was tired, hungry, hurt, and covered in a combination of slime and vomit, but at least she—and more importantly, everyone else—was safe.
She let herself lay there for a moment, relishing the word—all of them, even those so close, were safe from her, and through her, Voldemort. She had given thought to the Room of Requirement, but the DA was using it, and she could let herself out to attack others if she wanted… Down here, no one could reach her unless they knew about the entrance and could speak Parseltongue, and she herself could not get out without assistance(like how Fawkes has rescued her the last time, when she was still a male…). In a flash of acute pain in the pit of her stomach, the realization that she was female hit her once more. How could it have happened…? Why? The questions circled her mind with no answer in sight. She knew better than to attempt to turn herself back into a male—she's probably end up transforming herself into some sort of genderless slug or something. She'd just have to face the fact the she was a female now… until she either died or someone found her. It was more likely that she would die, she thought with a grim ghost of a smile. Well, at least everyone would be safe…
Oo0o Line Break Folks Oo0o
(Scene: Grimmauld Place)
It was with a particularly cheery mood that Fred and George woke that morning—perhaps because they knew their father was going to be just fine, or the fact that Christmas was so close, or maybe because they had devised such a wonderful prank to cheer up their favorite green-eyed friend (and piss the hell out of their baby brother).
Rubber wands in hand and dungbombs in their pockets, the two early-risen red-haired devils cracked identical grins. This was going to be epic.
"CRACK!" the twins apparated in the bedroom of one little brother and one friend.
"AIIII ATTACK!" George and Fred screamed in unison, pouncing through the pitch-black onto Harry's bed. Twenty seconds of flailing their rubber wands and flinging dungbombs in every direction while Ron cursed loudly, and a realization was made.
"…Harry ain't in bed, is he George?" Fred asked flatly.
"…No he is not, Fred, no he is not." George deadpanned.
"ATTACK THE FRECKLED ONE!"
4 minutes of red-headed chaos later, and Mrs. Weasley had flung on her bathrobe to go and 'discipline' her children.
The door to Ron and Harry's shared room flew open, revealing Lucifer in an apron—or, at least that was what they later swore—"What in the world do you think you're doing, making a ruckus like this at 6 am?"
Quick to put the flames out of their mother's eyes, George spoke up first, "You see mum, Harry looked so down yesterday—"
"and we thought we'd pay him a visit—"
"To cheer him up!"
Mrs. Weasley peered around the wrecked room, stating with a slight frown, "But, Harry isn't in there – you didn't scare him off, did you?" Her eyebrows met in an angry line.
Ron, finally pushing himself up from underneath one of the twins, answered grumpily, "He wasn't here when they came in and—"
"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked sharply, "He's gone?"
Fred held up his hands, "Hey, he's probably in the kitchen trying to make himself some breakfast—he didn't eat dinner last night!"
But the dark-haired boy was not in the kitchen. Slightly worried, the bathrooms were next checked; "Maybe he had violent diahrrea?" George suggested lightly, a rap to the back of his skull soon following. Still, Harry was not found, and the four Weasleys did what they all dreaded—woke Sirius. A whole-house search for the missing boy was launched in the immense edifice, looking under every bed and in every wardrobe, yet yielded no results. Tensions rose when, at 10 am, it was determined that Harry was no longer in Grimmauld Place.
The whole house sat in the Kitchen, white-faced and practically dripping with worry.
"What if he's just in his invisibility cloak?" Ginny spoke up from where she sat, curled in her chair in much the same way she had been the night Mr. Weasley had been attacked.
Sirius shook his shaggy head slowly, sighing, "No, we went so far as to do human-detecting spells in every room. He's not in the house."
"On the roof?" Fred asked half-heartedly.
Another sigh, this time from Molly, "He would have had to exit one of the windows or the front door, and they all have spells on them to alert us when they're opened."
"Why would he leave?" Sirius asked quietly, almost as if to himself.
Sidelong glances between the Weasley children, but no answers—Harry wouldn't leave them for that, would he…? Surely not.
Sirius rose from his seat, looking time-worn and miserable, "We have to alert Dumbledore and the rest of the Order."
Molly, the only other adult in the room, rose as well, "I'll send out the message to gather a meeting, you can go alert Phineas." Sirius nodded and loped out of the room.
Molly raised her wand, "Expecto Patronum!" a bright, silver mouse leaping from her wandtip. "Send out the alert—gather for an emergency meeting." She told the little white creature, her befuddled children watching on.
END of Ch 1
A/N: Wellllll, how'd it go? OuO I have quite a few chapters written already, and they are quit… well, realistic :D I want to make this true to the HP series instead of the usual trashy gender-bender fics. Yes, a complete explanation will happen in the story down the road. Well, leave me some comments and I'll put the next chapter up tomorrow, m'kay? (will update daily until I get rid of the almost 15,000(and counting) words of already-written text).
LEAVE ME WORDS AND STUFF! D: