Shifted Dreams Ch1
AN: This is Porn with a Plot. It's a very big plot, and I have high expectations, but still. It may garner much disapproval simply for the sexual content. You have been sufficiently warned.
The Order of the Void, comprised of the Nine Overseers, is in this story. It is used in a few of my stories as a plot device, and I think I use it effectively. Please respect it as what it is: not a multi-crossover, but a single element inspired by many sources.
Alert: The above is (future) copy-paste. This is actually my first released story starring the Overseer Court, although it is not the first attempted story with them in it.
Also, something I will make clear in all my Harry Potter stories: The money system. The exchange rates between Muggle and magical are ridiculous, and I try to stay away from it. However, to give you some perspective on how the magicals view gold in my universes, let's just assume that, to them, something that costs one gold Galleon would cost about five Great British pounds. If using the current world rates, that's about seven to eight American dollars. It's not exact, but it gives you an idea. Please remember that there are 29 Knuts to a Sickle, 17 Sickles to a Galleon. Like I said, shit's bonkers.
Alert: The above is (future) copy-paste. It will be put in each of my Harry Potter fics that are released, as this is the first.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the fictional worlds that the Nine are derived from. They all belong to their respective owners, both creative and financial. I do, however, own the idea of bringing them together as a universal, cross-dimentional Overseer Court for each of the many realities. So fuck yeah, I'm awesome.
Between Books Four and Five;
Somewhat Harry Potter:
Hot. Burning. Pain. Oh, the pain. It had only lasted a moment, but what a moment it had been! Harry had been about to begin cooking dinner when Aunt Petunia called him into the next room to help her lift her sewing machine that she had dropped. When Harry had come back to the stove, Dudley had already turned the gas on, hoping to get good points for doing something Harry seemed to have forgotten, and Harry had no chance to stop the inferno when he went to light the burners. The cleaning chemicals Aunt Petunia always used and Harry's own startled burst of raw magic didn't help, either.
He felt nothing now, only reliving the memories. He was dead, he knew that. Harry Potter had died at Number Four, Privet Drive on July the thirty-first in 1995 in a massive explosion, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. What a birthday, he thought dully.
His own consciousness wasn't dying or moving on, just sitting in this dark void. Alone. With his memories. That in itself had Harry confused. Was this all there was after death? Just your own memories? Was this where Cedric had gone? His parents? If Voldemort knew, then Harry could understand why the man was so stubborn about dying. Harry's disembodied spirit resigned himself to his fate, and returned to watching his life play out. No one was going to save him, this time.
"Don't be so sure about that!"
Temple of the Nine, the Void;
Between Books Four and Five;
Somewhat Harry Potter:
Harry, if he still had a face and body, would have spun around and displayed a surprised expression. However, instead he simply willed his observation to focus on where the voice came from. As he did, he suddenly found himself.. well, under trial was the only way to describe it. His existence was contained in a round platform with a railing going around it, and in front of him were nine people he had never seen before sitting behind a curved desk on very high chairs.
He couldn't speak, but still tried to ask where he was. The voice from before spoke again, which came from the man on the far right. He had reddish hair and a scraggly beard that were both showing heavy signs of graying. He had on black robes with a rope going from his left shoulder to his right hip, disappearing under the table. "You are in the only existing place in the Void: the Temple of the Nine. I am Merlin of the Ancients, Ninth Officer to the Order of the Void."
Had Harry been able, he would have appeared gob smacked that he had just met Merlin. Instead, he simply projected the feeling through the room.
The man in the center had bright golden hair, red eyes with slitted pupils like a cat, and his yellowish skin seemed to have thin little scales everywhere. He was not wearing a shirt, and the desk obscured the rest of him. "I am Akatosh of the Aedra, First Officer to the Order of the Void, Supreme Lord of the Overseer Court. You have been called here because your death was not meant to happen. It was too early, and under circumstances that would cause your realm to crumble in the future. We have therefore ruled that you shall be sent back to prevent this from happening."
"Unfortunately," said a new, female voice, "Your body was incinerated in the explosion, which means we can't take the easy way and just put you back into it. We'll have to build you a new body, and since Harry Potter will be declared dead, it can't be that body. You'll need a new identity. Come up with one and we will handle the rest." This woman was the third from the left, and she, too, was not wearing anything on her torso. She was beautiful, with straight blonde hair and a cute face. Her breasts were just on the large side, appearing quite beautiful to Harry. "Hi, I am Venus of the Romans, Fourth Officer to the Order of the Void."
Harry was glad he didn't currently have a body, or he would have been quite embarrassed.
What they had said was beginning to sink in to him. For whatever reason, he had to come back to life, but couldn't do so in his own body. He needed a new life, and that just threw him for a loop. Who did he want to be? He had only ever been Harry Potter; he didn't know how to be anyone else!
Merlin spoke again. "There is the matter of time, here. We must send him back quickly, lest the Void realize his presence and invade these halls."
Harry tried to think quicker, and a whole slew of forms he could take went through his mind. He could be tall, he could be strong, his skin could be dark, he could have blonde hair! He could even be a girl if he wanted to, and with that a whole new set of images and combinations went buzzing through him.
The man with short, dark hair in battle armor scoffed impatiently. "Oh just make him a shapeshifter or something! We can pick a random appearance from his indecisive mind until he chooses for himself a more permanent form! Being a shifter might even allow the goblins of his world help him. Less work for us, at least!"
Venus stood, revealing that she did indeed have something around her lower body, although it seemed to be a white sheet that was tied around her waist. "I don't normally agree with Aries, but I second his proposal! The boy doesn't have the time nor the environment to choose right now."
Akatosh looked about at his fellows. "All in favor of allowing this soul to enter the body of a shapeshifter?"
Unanimously, every voice cried out, "Aye!"
Akatosh looked down at where Harry's perspective seemed to be viewing from. "Magical core of Harry James Potter, is the body of a shapeshifter agreeable to you?" Harry made a kind of thankful pulse of emotion flood the room in response. "Very well. You will be sent into a newly assembled body with the powers of a shapeshifter. Tom Marvolo Riddle must be killed, and must not be allowed to return again. This is your task, magical core of Harry James Potter. It must be completed, or all hope for your world is lost."
Merlin stood just as Akatosh did. "First Officer! One of us should accompany him as a spirit over a probationary period! If I could help him with-"
Akatosh cut him off. "No. If you go with it, things will not follow their intended route."
"What about visits, then? He is still only a boy, and is no doubt running purely on instinct right now with all that has happened!"
"Even if I allowed that, you would still cause too much of a ripple in its future, Nine."
"What if I visited him?" said Venus. All heads turned to her, startled. She smiled. "I'm sure that Merlin is right, and that the boy will need psychological help at the very least. Akatosh, you may not want to let Merlin back, but I have never caused as much of a stir as he has."
The First Officer seemed conflicted for a moment before nodding. "Fine. Venus will be allowed to visit the new shapeshifter if it wishes. But what it does up until it has chosen a more permanent form must not be tampered with, is that clear Fourth Officer?"
Venus nodded, smiling widely. "I understand Supreme Lord." She turned to Harry and winked. "See you soon."
Akatosh turned to Harry as well, and clapped his hands together, hard. The pedestal below him lit up, and without any other fanfare or theatrics, Harry woke up as.. not Harry.
Leaky Cauldron Ground Floor Lavatory, London;
August the First, 1995;
The Shifter Formerly Known as Harry:
The first thing that happened was that not-Harry woke up standing in the middle of a low-class bathroom. The second thing was that not-Harry, not prepared to have legs again, collapsed onto the floor of said low-class bathroom.
Working himself back to his feet, not-Harry checked his surroundings. A mirror told him his hair was brown, and a bit shorter. He himself was also shorter, and his eyes were that dark brown that you often mistake as black. His face was rounder, more childlike, though he seemed more well-fed than before. Obviously, his scar and glasses were gone. He was also naked.
Why in the blue hell they thought it was a good idea to leave him without clothes was beyond him, but his appearance told him that everything he remembered had happened. "A shapeshifter.. -!" he started, as his own voice scared him. Not only had he not heard it for what felt like ages, it wasn't even his! It was higher, for one. The rest that was different was just… different. How does one describe the finer points of what makes a voice? Not-Harry was letting himself get sidetracked, and focused on figuring out where he was. Even without a destination in mind, the middle of a bathroom naked was definitely not where he wanted to be. Checking the stalls, he found them empty, and he walked to the door carefully. Opening it slightly, he recognized the room beyond, but only barely. He had never seen the eatery area of the Leaky Cauldron from the bathroom door, before.
Backing back into the bathroom, he took stock of everything he knew. One; he was naked. Two; he had been dead, but was reborn into this body. Three; he was naked. Four; and this was the cool bit, he was a shapeshifter! Five; he was naked. Six; he was in the Leaky Cauldron. Seven; HE WAS NAKED!
Not-Harry stared at his reflection. He was plain. Very plain. He could sneak out without anyone noticing if he wasn't so DAMN NAKED.
Pants, he decided. Even pants would be an improvement. Just some simple black slacks, with the normal four-and-a-quarter pockets, with a zipper and a button clasp. Was that too much to ask for?!
Not-Harry adjusted the crotch on his slacks irritably and froze. He had pants on. He looked down, and there they were, black slacks, just like he asked!
Snapping his gaze back up at the mirror, he whispered, "No way…"
Focusing, he thought of a blue T-shirt. Just a normal T-shirt with four holes of appropriate placement and size.
His eyes widened as first the skin where a T-shirt would cover seemed to change colors to blue, then seemed to rise up off of his body and turn into cloth! A quick peek down his shirt told him that his skin was still there, too!
Not-Harry grinned at his reflection. He wasn't quite fond of his face, but there would be time to change it, he knew. He could change everything…
Diagon Alley, London;
August the First, 1995;
The Shifter Formerly Known as Harry:
Not-Harry stood outside Gringotts Wizarding Bank, wondering just how he was going to do this. He had no doubt that the Nine knew what they were talking about when Aries had said the Goblins could help, but that didn't make him any more sure of what to expect.
Having added a pair of trainers to his attire, not-Harry took a breath and walked into the bank. Approaching the goblin that seemed the least busy, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir?"
The goblin looked up and frowned. "Yes? How can I help you?"
"Erm, could I speak to someone private about, uh… accounts and.. bloodlines, I guess?"
The goblin seemed intrigued and wary at once. "Your name, sir?" he asked while activating a rune below his desk.
"Uh! J-Jeremy Carver! I-I don't have an account here. I was hoping to start one, but I need to uh… discuss some things first." Not-Harry quickly made up a name, mentally hitting himself for not doing so earlier.
The plaque in front of him out of not-Harry's view turned green and displayed the word 'shapeshifter'. "Someone will be right with you, Mr. Carver. Please, have a seat," the goblin told him, before calling for a specialist in magical creatures.
Waiting for a while, 'Jeremy' was soon called to a private room. Sitting across the table from a slightly brown goblin, he opened his mouth.
"Please save your breath, Mr. Carver. I am Gongril, and I know that you are not entirely human."
And promptly closed it. Then he opened it again, and said, quite intelligently, "Huh?"
Gongril smiled, showing his teeth. "You are a shapeshifter, Mr. Carver, is that not correct?"
He was surprised, but then again he shouldn't be. "Before we get to business, do you know who I really am?"
Gongril shook his head and frowned. "You are a shapeshifter, Mr. Carver. I'm sure you know the differences between your kind and a metamorphmagus."
'Jeremy' chuckled. "Actually no. I'm kind of new to this body. Not just this form, the whole body! I was dead, yesterday. Long story, and I'm probably not allowed to tell all of it, but the fact is that…" He shifted during his pause. Jet-black hair, killing curse-green eyes, and a scar on his forehead formed before the goblin's very eyes. "I need all of my assets transferred to a new account."
"Y-You realize of course that we can't take your word, shifter. If you had ever touched Mr. Potter, you could copy him right down to the blood and the thoughts!"
"Oh, really?! Wow, I didn't know that… Would Veritaserum work on shifters? I would consent to being asked who I was under its effects if the antidote can be provided right away."
The goblin sat perfectly still for a while. "Harry Potter was declared dead yesterday," he finally said. "While I cannot discuss business with someone who claims to have come back from the dead in a new body, Mr. Potter's body was never found. If you would admit, outside the Veritaserum, that you simply got away and discovered your powers, I could arrange for a test to see if you ever were Harry Potter in the first place."
Sort-of-Harry smiled. "Great! Then that's what happened. I am Harry Potter. When my Uncle's home went up in flames, I escaped and discovered my shapeshifting abilities that night."
Gongril nodded and stood. Crossing the room, he opened the door and called for two guards, two glasses of water, and a vial of the truth serum, as well as the antidote. Closing the door, he sat back into his chair. "Gringotts requires a minimum of two goblin witnesses while a third goblin asks questions when Veritaserum is being used."
Harry nodded, and a short while later everything was ready. Three drops into a glass of water, and the glass of truth was handed to him. Taking a deep drink, Gongril asked some simple questions to make sure it was working, as is the custom.
"I want you to try to lie to me. Am I a cat?"
"Are you a cat?"
"Good. Now. Are you, or have you ever been Harry James Potter?"
"I was once Harry James Potter."
"How much of you used to be Harry James Potter?"
"The soul and magical core that resides in this body once resided in Harry James Potter, as did the consciousness."
"That's good enough for the bank! Give him the antidote while I get Mr. Potter's account information."
Shortly after Harry had the antidote purge the serum from his body, Gongril was back with another, slightly taller goblin with more green in his skin. He also seemed young by goblin standards, but Harry couldn't be sure.
"Mr. Potter, you'll be happy to know that everything is ready to be transferred! Paperless, of course, though we'll need an explanation of how all of Harry James Potter's wealth and assets suddenly dropped off the grid. Also, you'll need an account opened in a new name, one that you'll use for all of your dealings with us."
The new goblin stepped forward. "I am Gargulgr. I'll be you assisting you in setting up an account with us. What name will you be using?"
Harry paused. He hadn't had much time to sort things out and decide on much. When he realized he couldn't rent a room anywhere without money, he knew to come to Gringotts, but that was about it!
"Err… would it be possible to get back to you on that?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. We should get this done as soon as possible."
Harry frowned. Thinking of a name that would only be used occasionally would probably be alright, but his own name would take a bit more experimentation in his mind.
Gargulgr pulled him from his thoughts with an idea. "If it helps, you could open a family account. It would be under one name, the family name, and only a relative would need to sign."
Harry grinned. "That's perfect! It makes things much easier for me, at least. Give me a just a moment, I'll be ready soon."
The two goblins nodded, and began writing up the papers for a new family account.
Harry thought about his last name, and, decidedly, his 'father's' name. 'Damian is probably going to be 'dad's' first name, if for no other reason than it sounds rather plain. I just can't think of a last name. Bo.. B.. Barrice? W.. Westing? Maywater? Rosewood? Hey, Rosewood. Damian Rosewood. Hi, this is my dad, Damian Rosewood. Yeah I like that, and I think I could be called Rosewood without feeling like a fool.'
His decision made, he turned to the goblins. "Open an account under the family of Rosewood and do a paperless transfer of all of Harry Potter's wealth to it."
Nearly startling them, Gargulgr nodded and marked the paper in the blank he had left. "Well then Mr. ah.. Rosewood. I will need a signature from your 'parent'. Just the name and normal ink will do in this case, I think, so long as 'he' remembers how he signs his own name in the future."
Harry nodded, and, using a particularly tight and almost unreadable cursive script, signed the form as 'Damian Rosewood', and then printed the name again in all capitals, which are often more difficult to be used to identify handwriting.
Passing the sheet back to the goblins, Gargulgr looked over it, nodding. "Very well, Mr. Rosewood, your family account will be up within an hour. I would imagine that your family will become very rich very soon afterwards." He called for a messenger to take the form to be processed, and then smiled at him evilly. "Now, Mr. Potter. I would like to know what your will, which you wrote out before the start of your first year at Hogwarts at Gringotts's own suggestion, states about what should happen to your other assets. The properties you own, mainly."
Harry smiled at the way he pushed for Harry to go along with the statement. He was a bit surprised that he owned any properties, and asked, "What properties did I own, sir? And can they not be transferred to the Rosewoods as well?"
Gongril shook his head. "Not without much paperwork, and you don't want that hanging over your head later."
Harry nodded, quiet. "I suppose I would have written in my will that they be sold, then."
Gargulgr grinned. "Very good. The properties will have been sold and added to Mr. Potter's account, which, naturally, will be transferred to the Rosewood family. The last thing we need from you is a cover story about what happened to all of Mr. Potter's gold."
Harry sighed. He was so close, but now he had to come up with a cover story. Which, for him, was impossible. Ron or Hermione were always the ones to do that kind of thing. Damn, if Hermione were here, she could have had him done by now!
The more he thought about it, the more he wished it were possible. Suddenly, something from earlier snapped into his mind. "Gongril, you said earlier that shapeshifters can copy someone completely if they've touched them before, right? Is that remembered by the body or the mind? Or, for that matter, the magic?"
Gongril looked thoughtful for a moment. "Admittedly, not much is actually known about your kind. It is possible that some or even all of the people you came into contact with are stored in your memory, but there is no guarantee that the full effect of shifting into them would be available. What were you thinking?"
Harry smiled slightly. "I have... well, had a friend that would be of so much help with this cover story. She's brilliant; would have had me out of here in no time at all! I'm wondering if I can borrow her ability to plan and use it here..." Even as he said it, 'Harry' shifted into 'Hermione'.
Light brown hair grew and curled, fluffing down 'his' back until it was identical to 'his' friend. Amber brown eyes formed in place of green, and 'his' face curved and smoothed until it was a mirror image of Hermione. The rest of 'his' body fell into place much more quickly. Filling out Harry's meager form with that of a growing young woman, 'Hermione' was eventually sitting in the chair, wearing the same black slacks and blue tee that 'Harry' had been, although the way they fit certainly showed that 'she' was in men's clothes.
The goblins waited excitedly. Shapeshifters were a rare breed indeed, and to see one shift right in front of them was something to behold!
'Hermione' sat for a moment, trying to think intelligently. It wasn't working out so well. Even if the new sensations of having breasts and... other bits weren't distracting 'her', it seemed as though copying Hermione's mind wasn't possible at the moment. Though, having never seen one before, Harry was surprised that it felt as though his manhood had been replaced by that of a girl's. Perhaps the perfect physical copy was still available?
Looking up, 'Hermione' saw the goblins waiting expectantly. Shaking her head, she said, "It doesn't seem as though I can copy her mind without meeting her again after my rebirth." Being ready for it helped a bit, although she was still a bit unnerved about Hermione's voice coming out. Giving up, she sighed. "Can't it just disappear? No busted locks, no broken security, just a mysteriously empty vault?" Now on the train of thought, new ideas quickly presented themselves. "And actually... Is there any way that, instead of selling them, the properties I own could be destroyed?"
At first the goblins looked insulted that 'she' suggest the money was stolen, but at her second question their expression changed to confusion. "What are you getting at, Mr. Potter?" Gongril asked.
'She' smiled. "What if we made it look like someone was trying to erase Harry James Potter? All of his gold gone, the properties he would have owned burned to the ground, his only relatives dead in the same explosion that caught him; it's perfect!"
Gargulgr grinned, showing his pointy teeth. "I agree! Is that what you'd like, then?"
She nodded, beaming. "It is. Now, is that all? I'll actually need to be going if I can."
Gargulgr looked over the sheets of paper where he had been taking notes. "Yes, that should be all. If you'll wait at desk number fourteen, a key to your new vault will be delivered there shortly. Have a nice day Miss Rosewood! Indeed, have a nice life!"
'She' suddenly remembered who she was disguised as and quickly changed her hair to a reddish-orange, taming it and shortening it to her shoulders. She shifted her eyes back to green, but duller, and made some minor tweaks to her face. 'The changes are coming easier and easier,' she thought. It took only a small amount of concentration and her slacks and tee were now fitted to her body.
Following the two very helpful goblins out of the room, she walked over to desk number fourteen, which was empty, and waited. A few minutes passed and a goblin soon took up seat there, holding three identical keys and a sheet of paper. "Miss Rosewood?" She nodded. "These are the keys to your family vault. More can be made at your father's request should you need them. This sheet documents your family's gold, vault number, account code, et cetera."
She nodded and tucked the sheet and two of the keys into her pocket. "I'd actually like to make a withdraw, if that's alright."
"Certainly. Gorefinger! Take Miss Rosewood to Vault two thousand, seven hundred and eighty two."
Diagon Alley, London;
August the First, 1995;
The Shifter Formerly Known as Harry:
As 'she' left Gringotts, her stomach voiced its disappointment that it had not been fed that day. Stopping at a bakery, not-Harry sat down on a bench with a package of six cinnamon rolls and a butterbeer. As she ate her snack, not-Harry thought about her predicament. 'Without more information on shapeshifters, I can't risk doing much more without a permanent body. A wand should be my next stop, but even that, I would imagine, would require at least a permanent name. Not like I could use it much. The Ministry would detect the underage magic for sure. Guess I'll have to look into how to enroll at Hogwarts.
'Actually, how do they even do that? The Ministry keeps tabs on underage magic, but how? Is it in the wand? If so, then why can't they just track the wands of criminals? Nah, probably just some general detecting instrument. But then how does that work? Does it monitor the ages of every wizard? That's a lot of wizards... Maybe it ignores anyone over seventeen. Still, that's a lot of kids to watch over. Maybe I'll look into that. Hah! I may not have Hermione's mind, but she's certainly rubbed off on me.
'Hermione... I'm in her body right now. Different face, but it's still her.' 'She' started blushing slightly as her eyes drifted to her chest. 'They're not big, but they aren't missing, either. Wow, they actually jiggle... Is that because I don't have a bra on? I've been quite aware of the way my shirt touches them for a while, are they sensitive?' 'Her' hand glided down her chest, over a breast, and rested on her stomach. 'I guess we never gave her much credit as a girl before, but wow is she a girl! I kind of like the personal seat cushion she's got, too.' Not-Harry ate her second roll and distracted herself from Hermione's decidedly feminine body.
'Back on target, I need an identity. Venus will only appear once I've made my decision, and then I can start getting some help. Okay. While my mind is clear, let's think about what I want to look like. I kind of like this color hair, but perhaps something darker. More of an auburn, a dark auburn. Brown, but red enough to be called a red-head.
'My eyes can be- ..My eyes. I can see. I didn't notice with everything going on, but I'm not wearing glasses and I can see! If I can control something like that, I wonder...' Not-Harry focused for a moment, staring at a shop window across the street. With a single command, her vision shot forward, and suddenly it was as though she were standing in front of the glass! She nearly jumped when it happened, but kept her calm and brought her vision back to normal. 'Okay, dying is officially the best thing that has happened to me yet! Alright, more on that later, back to choosing a form! Seems I'm just as distractible as before. I guess... I guess I would like to keep my green eyes, but that feels like a bad idea. This is a fresh start, totally new! Blue eyes it is, then. Deep or bright? Hm... bright blue eyes sounds good to me, but I'll need to check a mirror first. I'll need to check my reflection for all of this, actually.
'Especially the face. And actually...' 'She' looked back down at her breasts, eyes trailing over the rest of her slight curves. 'Do I want to be a girl or a boy...? This morning I would have answered 'boy' easily, but here I am, sitting on a bench in a girl's body, thinking nothing of it! Enjoying it, even! Beyond the ah... squishy bits, girls seem to be more flexible from what I felt. Or at least, Hermione is more flexible than I was as Harry. From what I've seen, being a witch in the magical world is more difficult than being a wizard, so that's a con. But then again...'
'She' continued weighing the good against the bad of choosing a female form until her last cinnamon roll was gone. With a start, she realized that she had been more hungry than she thought, and had been sitting on this bench for quite some time now. The sun was past its peak, and the crowds were getting even thicker. Not-Harry tossed her trash into the wastebasket and stood, brushing the crumbs off. Stepping into the crowd, she found the traffic flow that would take her back to the Muggle entrance and the Leaky Cauldron.
She had just broken from the chaos when she saw that the wall was closed! She was stuck in Diagon Alley! When she had come through the first time as Jeremy, she had simply followed a wizard through, but the door seemed to have closed behind her. Despairing, she turned back to the Alley. She'd have to get a wand, first.
Diagon Alley, London;
August the First, 1995;
The Shifter Formerly Known as Harry:
Once-Harry gazed around at the shop as she entered. Boxes containing wands filled shelves, chairs, packing crates, corners, and a few were even stuck up against the ceiling! All-in-all, it was pretty much the same as she remembered.
Her entrance did not go unnoticed, however; the bell above the door took care of that. Mr. Ollivander, a strange but kind old man soon came around the corner, his cheerful smile firmly on his face. "Welcome, welcome! I am Mr. Ollivander, come right in, let's see how we can help you!"
As he got closer, his face shifting ever so slightly into confusion. "Hang on, hang on... You aren't eleven!"
The shifter formerly known as Harry made a show of looking herself over and patting her body, as though making sure it was still there. "Wha- You're right, sir! I can scarcely believe it, but it seems I'm actually closer to fifteen! Possibly even sixteen!" She grinned, for once enjoying the humor that seemed to follow her as Harry.
Of course, her body, which was Hermione's, was actually sixteen, though her mind had only lived through fifteen years. 'Woah, thinking that kind of made my head hurt a bit..'
Ollivander laughed softly. "Ah, very good, I was hoping you knew! It would have been very awkward for that information to have to come from an old man you had just met! Now, how can I help you? Are you picking up an order for a sibling, or..?" he asked, leaving the question open.
The shifter frowned and put on an embarrassed face. She had actually thought ahead for this one! "Actually, sir.. I sort of.. B-broke my wand. Two nights ago, while we were getting off the train, it fell out of a hole in my pocket and g-got stepped on. Daddy got rid of it, said that only the maker would be able to fix it, and that we'd get a new one. Can I really get a new one? Does it work like that?"
Ollivander put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "It most certainly does. Come with me, please!" he said, leading her to the desk. "Normally, I'd measure you, but the chances of a wand in the same group as your old one attaching to you are slim to none, I'm afraid! Nope, we'll just have to wing it from here! Your new wand will have to settle for just your magic, heart, and mind, instead of your body as well." He smiled jokingly, "They're very vain, you see." Ollivander laughed as he walked the shelves, muttering to himself about, "Possibilities, so many possibilities!"
The shifter sighed in relief under her breath. No measuring meant for more freedom with her body later! As good as it felt, she knew that settling into Hermione's body wouldn't be the best idea.
She was snapped back to attention when the kind old man deposited about a dozen boxes onto the desk in front of her. Opening one, he handed the wand inside to her as he organised the pile. "Here. Try this one on for size. I doubt it, but the reaction might give us a clue. Just give it a swing!"
Not-Hermione flicked the wand sharply, and a stack of papers on the desk caught fire. Ollivander quickly put it out and gently took the wand back from her. "Alright, well at least we ruled out basilisk fang for a core. Try this one, then."
And so it continued. Finally, on the ninth wand, something happened. The wand seemed to hum and vibrate gently in her hand, and the tip glowed with a soft light. The wind around her picked up, despite everything else remaining quite breeze-free.
Ollivander grinned, his eyes twinkling much like Dumbledore's. "There it i-" He failed to finish his sentence, however, as the light at the tip suddenly shot off the end and impacted with Ollivander's face. A sound like a bag of powder breaking open on the floor accompanied the flash, and the result made the new shapeshifter hurry to stifle her giggles. Upon the old man's face was what looked like a bright pink paint splatter staining his skin. He blinked, and began wiping away the powder- for it was powder, and not paint- with a handkerchief. "Yes, well. I suppose I should have exercised more caution, in hindsight." He gently took the wand from her and examined it. "Let's see, twelve-and-a-quarter inches, pliable and swishy, dragon heartstring, pine woo- oh." He paused, and looked at her over his nose. "Oh my. Oh this is interesting. I daresay you may grow to do great things."
Feeling a sense of deja vu, she cheekily replied, "Do you say that to all of your customers?"
Ollivander didn't laugh. Instead he looked down at the wand in his hands, and continued. "Well, great things of a sort, at least. Do you know what this is made of? Of course you don't, I only made it last night. Not really sure why I did, but instead of using more pine or some leather for the handle, I stuck a bit of dogwood on it. Very peculiar of me of course, but then I had been drinking..."
The shifter put her hand out in interjection. "Excuse me, but did you say you were drinking? Is this wand safe? And what does another type of wood have to do with it?
Garrick Ollivander waved her off, and said rather hurriedly, "Oh its perfectly safe, the mere reaction it had is a sign that it functions, and beyond that the safety of a wand is largely dependant on the witch or wizard. More to the point... Most wands are only made of one type of wood. There are exceptions, of course, and this is one of them. For the main body, we have pine, an independent wood that loves to be used creatively, and is highly adaptive. The handle, however, is dogwood, which is, suffice to say, playful. Both wand woods have been known to produce outstanding spells under difficult conditions - especially when paired with a dragon heartstring core like this one, though I would advise you to keep a firm grip on it due to the nature of the dogwood. It may influence the creative pine into mischief." The wand was held up against the light as though the old man had been checking a 10 pound note for legality. "I am curious whether the loud nature of the dogwood will win out, or if the sensitivity of the pine will allow you to perform non-verbal magic?" He held the wand out for her to take again. "Regardless, it has clearly chosen you, though I wouldn't mind if you came to me after your schooling and shared your experiences with that wand over some tea."
She smiled at Ollivander and took the wand from him, though slightly overwhelmed from all of the wandlore information he had thrown at her. "Thank you, sir, I'll do that. How much do I owe you?"
After paying for the wand and thanking him again, she left the shop and, more confidently this time, made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron, her new wand tucked into her waistband. Ollivander waved her out and smiled, never once questioning the fact that he hadn't asked for her name. Some things just never come up, after all.
Several minutes later, he chuckled rather mysteriously and said to no one in particular, "Oh yes. Great things may come about from her and that wand... should she manage to tame it. I must make more of an effort to resist Goblin Ale while crafting..."
Leaky Cauldron, London;
August the First, 1995;
The Shifter Formerly Known as Harry:
Striding over to the bar, the girl approached Tom, the bartender. "Hey, can I get a room? I'll need a place to stay until school starts."
Tom eyed her curiously, and just a bit lecherously, although in hindsight it was more of a casual interest. "Where're your parents? I can't just let a minor rent a room on her own, especially if she'll be here for a month!"
The shifter was starting to be thankful for heavy crowds and the time it takes to get through them. She had an answer for this, too. "Mum's at the new house, unpacking. She's a right whirlwind, and she's kicked everyone out until she's done! Daddy left me to get supplies for school while he went to work. He'll be back here after, and I'm supposed to have a room for us."
Tom seemed assured by the story. 'Harry's' acting was quite good. "Alright then, I'll need your father's name for the logs, and a twenty Galleon up-front fee for the extended stay. A double will be five galleons a night, charged however you like, and your dad will have to come and sign for the room by tomorrow morning, is that doable?"
She nodded, smiling brightly. "Sure, thanks! He's Damian Rosewood. Yeah, spelt just like it sounds. And that's two beds, right?" She verified, keeping up the appearance of her story while she dug out twenty-five Galleons.
Tom nodded, writing in his ledger with one hand and counting the money with his other. "That's right, two beds, one bathroom, and breakfast is free, if you like. Although I must warn you, it's not very good."
Looking up, Tom was in the middle of handing her two keys. "Second floor, fifth door on the left from the back of the hall, room 3G. Enjoy your stay, Miss Rosewood!"
She thanked him and turned around, stopping abruptly as her eyes fell on the front page of the Daily Prophet. It was her- well, him, as Harry. A solemn picture of him after the Triwizard Tournament was blinking up from the paper, the headline 'Harry Potter Dies, Massive Explosion' emblazoned above it.
She walked over to the man reading it and asked, "Could I see that for a second?"
The wizard looked up at her and glanced at the front page before handing it to her. "We lost something special last night. I don't care if he was going bonkers a few months ago, a bloke like that don't deserve to be incinerated in his own home by some Muggle explosion!"
The Daily Prophet seemed keen to reference his supposed insanity, but other than that they got all the facts about as straight as they could. She nodded, handing the paper back to him. "'S a shame, alright."
The wizard shook his head sadly, turning back to the page he was on. "World lost a hero. Wasn't even seventeen..."
"What makes him a hero? I don't think anyone should be famous for something they didn't do, especially if that something is not die! He was a baby, it's not like he meant to kill You-Know-Who."
"Not talking 'bout that, girl! He stopped a corrupt professor in his first year, saved the school from some monster in his second year, helped to capture the madman Sirius Black in his third year, and won the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year! Nah, the way I see it, a few heroics done on purpose far outshine one, bigger heroic done by accident."
He seemed to declare the conversation finished with that, as his eyes went back to his paper. Not-Harry was slightly lost in thought as she went up the stairs and made her way into the room Tom had given her and her 'dad'.
That wizard was right. Even though everyone always called him the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry earned his fame quickly after discovering it. It made some of his attitude a bit out of line, and spoke even more volumes about his modesty and humble personality.
Flopping onto the nearest bed, she stared at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything at once. It was a few minutes before she grew bored and slightly depressed and hopped off the bed, searching for something else to do. Seeing the mirror next to the wardrobe in the corner, she decided to get this whole appearance mess over with.
Sitting on the second bed, she stared at her reflection. 'Okay. First, that red-brown hair I thought of.' Her hair changed, brightening into a dark auburn color from the black it once was. 'Good. This is getting easy. Bright blue eyes, next.' The dull green irises faded-shifted-into bright blue, like shallow pools of the sky. 'Hm, brighter. I want to startle people when I look at them!' And so the sky in her eyes lit up, nearly shining as though a light had went on behind them. 'I guess... a bit darker skin? Like, a permanent light tan. At the very least not pale.' Her skin tingled slightly as it changed, gaining a darker tinge for her disguise.
Looking down at her body, she frowned. 'There's that choice again. I didn't think it would be so difficult! Anything else will need a gender in mind, so I can't exactly put it off...' She fell backward onto the bed, groaning in frustration. Even that reminded her of something a girl would do.
Any further thought was stolen from her by a tapping at the window. Looking over, her heart skipped several beats. "Hedwig!"
The snowy white owl was waiting patiently outside the window as the shifter nearly tripped over herself to open it. Hedwig flew inside to alight on the headboard of the nearest bed, hooting happily.
The indecisive girl leapt onto the bed, kneeling and smiling brilliantly at the owl. "Hedwig, how did you find me?! I'm dead, in a new body, and there wasn't even any trail for you to follow if I wasn't! Oh, you brilliant girl, you!" she exclaimed, giddy. Her fingers were petting all of the owl's favorite spots in congradulations.
Hedwig puffed out her chest proudly, enjoying the praise her Master was giving her, nipping one of her fingers affectionately.
That somehow reminded the shifter of the situation. "Oh, I must look so strange to you, but again: how did you find me? I'm so sorry, I hadn't even thought about what you would do when you came back to the house and found it gone! Everything was just so chaotic; I'm sure a lot of things would have occurred to me once I settled down."
Hedwig hooted softly, nipping at her Master's hand. The message was clear: Don't worry about it.
The shifter continued petting and praising Hedwig for a while before the mirror once again caught her eye. Gazing at her reflection, she scooted across the bed to sit on the edge. "Hedwig came back. She found me, even with how things are. Voldemort's back. He'd be able to find me, too. Not sure how, but just watch, Hedwig. He won't sit by and trust that I'm dead. He won't be satisfied until he kills me himself, and that means he'll try to... bring me back or something. And when he can't, he'll know I'm not dead. Voldemort's the kind of man who holds a grudge past his own revenge. He'll follow me past death to make sure I'm gone."
Hedwig barked in agreement, and Not-Harry was silent for a while. When she spoke again, she sounded sure of herself. Unnoticed to her, changes were beginning to happen to her form in response to the emotion. "I can't hide from him, not even as somebody else. You've shown me that, girl." Her hair moved down her neck, reaching a few inches past the middle of her back. "It doesn't matter who I am to him, he'll always call me Harry, and he'll always despise me." Her frame shifted, bending into an even more flexible form. "He'll blame every misfortune in his life on me, just like I do with him. He's made us intertwined, put us on a path that keeps leading to each other." Her eyes got slightly larger, and her eyebrows thinned. Her cheekbones softened, rising slightly. "If I'm going to face him, I might as well feel confident. More studying, I'll need every spell and tactic I can get." She was picking up steam, now, in both her speech and her transformation. Her nose changed abruptly, forming a little button in the middle of her face. "Set goals, and then achieve those goals! Feel confident in your ability." Her body changed again, expanding and shrinking into size. Her chest and butt were now quite noticeable, though her breasts were still not large. Her body overall was slim, although the bottom half was slightly more full than the rest. "The Nine sent me here to get rid of him, that's my task. Forget what anyone else might say, that is my job at the moment, and damn it all, I'm going to get it done! Not just because I have to, but because I should, and I can!" She was on her feet now, although she didn't recall standing up.
She grinned victoriously at absolutely no one, proud of herself for coming to terms with the situation, and taking charge without the prompting of someone else. From the brief silence came a clapping sound behind her, and she spun around, wand suddenly at the ready.
She lowered it quickly in favor of a blush, however. Sitting in the armchair next to the small table was Venus, still wearing only the skirt of cloth. "Very very well done! I daresay you've rallied the wallpaper quite thoroughly!" She stopped clapping and smiled, genuinely proud. "Jokes aside, that was like four very important decisions you just made all at once! Oh, come here!" Venus stood and embraced the young shapeshifter, embarrassing, confusing, and arousing her all at once. Pulling away, Venus looked her over and said, "Love the look, by the way! You'll have no problem recruiting supporters, that's for sure!"
Seemingly for the first time, the shifter noticed her most recent changes. Snapping her head to the mirror, she turned, and admired the form her subconscious had chosen. "I guess some part of me had to have good taste."
"Indeed. I am so glad that you have solved the question of your appearance and, indeed, your gender. Your decision to work harder at learning magic and your conviction to stop the monster formerly known as Tom Riddle are being praised at the Temple as we speak!
"So," she began, as though exchanging gossip. "What's your new name?"
Almost as though it had been there the whole time, and simply waited for the opportunity, the girl's choice presented itself immediately. "Danielle. Danielle Rosewood."
AN: And that's that! Chapter One! Holy shit! This was... easy. Writing hasn't been this easy in a long time. Sorry about the lack of porn, but, as Ollivander lamented, some things just never come up. I fully intended to put in at least one masturbation lemon near the end when I started writing, but instead the monologue/form choosing kind of flowed out and took its place.
Not sure when updates on anything, including this, will be out, but rest assured that I am, indeed, back! I can tell you this much, of the stories that are out, I am actively pursuing the next chapter in Forever Changed, Naruto: Spectral Power, True Partners: Uzumaki and Uchiha, and now this one. The rest are kind of just... sitting there, waiting for me to want to have anything to do with them. I've been heavily distracted by totally new stories, watching Doctor Who again (and again and again), and connecting with my soul mate. Have you guys ever met your soul mate? I highly recommend it!
So, I'm clocking this chapter at 8,353 words! Tune in next time!