Harry James Potter? No-I'm Athena Iris Howlett.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Ororo Monroe, also known as Storm, sat on the bed, looking at the photo in her hand. It was the only one she had of her daughter. Tears ran down her face as she looked at it. It was of her, Logan and Athena, the day Athena had been born.
"Ororo." Logan's voice sounded.
Ororo looked up to see Logan standing in the doorway of their shared room. He came in, closed the door and sat on the bed beside her, wrapping an arm round her shoulders.
"She'll be fifteen soon. That is, if she's still alive."
"Hey, of course she's still alive. And we will find her. I promise."
"But what if the person who took her from us killed her?" Ororo whispered brokenly.
"I don't think they did. I believe that our daughter is alive. We will get Athena back, and there's gonna be hell to pay when I find who took her."
Ororo nodded, and smiled at him. They had gotten together a few weeks after he had turned up at the mansion, and two months after that, Ororo had found out that not only had her magic adapted her mutation so that she had the same healing factor as Logan as well as her ability to manipulate the weather, but she was also pregnant with his child too. It had been very sudden, and unexpected, they hadn't been together all that long, but they were ecstatic over the fact that they were having a baby. And then, a day after Athena Iris Howlett had been born, she had disappeared. Logan said there was a scent he didn't recognise in the room, but other than that, they had no leads. The scent was only in that one room, and left no trail. The Professor couldn't even track her down using Cerebro.
"I just want her back, Logan." Ororo said, clutching to his shirt.
"I know Ororo. I do too. And we'll get her back. I promise, we'll get her back." Logan lifted her chin up with a finger, and kissed her. Ororo put the photo on the bedside table as Logan pushed her down on the bed, and covered her body with his.
Harry panted heavily as he crouched behind the headstone. Several graves away, he could see Cedric's foot. How could he have been so stupid? Had he not insisted they take the cup together, then Cedric would still be alive. He could hear Voldemort drawing closer. Was this it? Was this where he was going to die? In some Graveyard, cold and alone?
He closed his eyes. At least he would be with his parents again, and out of the manipulations of that old coot. He knew that he was being manipulated. It was quite obvious. After all, as one of the judges, Dumbledore could have easily declared the tournament a draw, and then begin another one.
Suddenly, a pain ripped through him. It felt as if something was being ripped off him. Something wrong. He knew the pain was a good one, but that didn't stop him crying out.
Voldemort and what currently remained of his inner circle watched as the boy who lived writhed in pain. He seemed to change. His hair grew out, and changed from black to dark brown, with pure white streaks running through it as highlights. His face became more feminine, and his skin, tanned. His body was becoming curvier too. Harry Potter was becoming a girl. Suddenly he-she- collapsed onto the ground panting. Voldemort tilted his head to one side, assessing the change as best he could.
"My Lord, what just happened?" Lucius asked.
"As of yet, I am unsure. It is most probably some sort of ploy."
Harry pulled off his glasses, noticing he now had clear vision and looked down at his body, looking for any sort of damage done by the spell. He stopped, and sucked in a deep breath in shock. He grabbed the collar of his robes and looked down. Sure enough he had breasts. "What in Merlin's name was the last curse you hit me with?" He grabbed his throat. His voice had changed, and was far more feminine. Long hair brushed to his hand and he pulled it forward to see it was long, brown, with pure white highlights.
"The last one was a cruciatus." Voldemort said.
"I'm a girl! Is gender switching some kind of side effect or something?"
"Do you want to try and switch back?" Voldemort raised his wand.
"No, I'm alright!" She said hastily, waving her hands. "I'll find another way."
"Well, I believe this nullifies the prophecy." Voldemort mused.
"What Prophecy?" Harry asked.
"Dumbledore never told you?"
"Why would the meddling old coot tell me anything like that?" Harry pulled himself to his feet, frowning. "Are we really having a civilised conversation?"
"I believe we are. I don't think you're even a Potter."
"And why would you say that?" Harry asked.
"None of your features, bar your scar, are the same. Your skin is fairly tanned, your hair is different, and so are your eyes."
"Why do I get the feeling that Dumbledore's behind this?" Harry muttered. He noticed that Voldemort was once again pointing his wand at him. "Oh, come on." He muttered, and he bolted, narrowly avoiding the killing curse. What was wrong with the guy? One moment he was trying to kill, then it was all polite conversations, and now they were back to the killing.
A/N: Sorry the start is a bit off, it didn't come out the way I planned. I promise it will get better. Please review and let me know what you think! Should I continue?