Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Only the original plot and original characters.


Chapter I


Harry Potter was only fifteen, or fifteen and a few months. It was the Christmas holidays and he was away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The only home he really knew. The place he was abandoned to by these magicians was never his home and he never cared for it. His 'family' hated him, and in return, he had grown too loath them.

His people had abandoned him to that purgatory, and even more forced him back under the guise of safety each year during the summer. Well, the old man and headmaster of Hogwarts did for reasons he doesn't want to share.

However, this was cruel. He had come to start enjoying the Christmas holidays. He spent them away from the Dursley's, he liked that, and they liked that. Before his eleventh birthday, they had never allowed him the simple pleasure of the holiday. He made all or most of the food, set the table, and even cleaned up after them while they ate until they were fall.

Christmas day had always been a hungry day before Hogwarts. He wasn't ever allowed food on that day, or Boxing day. They called him a lousy scrounger, and that he deserved nothing on Christmas, especially not food because he was a freak. In other words, they hated him because of his magic, something he had little control over. It was just who he was. They were jealous. Well, his aunt, his mother's sister was, of his mother so she takes it out on him.

Vernon…? Well, he can't be sure but he believed that his aunt had told lies and half-truths. Though, a part of him knew that if some were obvious half-truths, exaggerations then there was some truth. He couldn't not believe that his mother had changed, forgetting her muggle (non-magical) family. He felt a little pity that his aunt never got to reconcile with his mother in someway, mostly because then maybe she would have looked after him.

It was cruel because rather than spending the holiday at Hogwarts or with his godfather this year he was returned to the Dursleys. He had a vision that saved Mr. Weasley, his best friends' fathers' life after he had been bitten by a poisonous magical snake.

Harry and the other Weasley children had been sent off to the Order of the Phoenix headquarters at his godfathers' house. It had been okay for a few days but then Ronald, his best friend, and his twin brothers had attacked him, and calling him all sorts of crap and threw him down some stairs, accusing him of being responsible. They expected him to somehow stop a killer monstrous snake from the other side of the UK.

It was always the case with that school and most of its people, such fair-weather relationships. He had been attacked, hurt, for what, because he had a connection to the dark thing that murdered his family. They praise his first defeat, forgetting, or not caring about everything Harry had lost. He couldn't have stopped the attack even if he was there! He had had enough of these fools. They don't care about him, never have, never will.

Maybe he would be alone forever, with only himself to trust. If only there was some way to protect himself from that, to see through the lies. He even had to learn the art of protecting his mind by a greasy incompetent piece of crap who needed to seriously get out and get a life rather than tormenting the children, he is supposed to look out for as a teacher.

During the lessons the filth, Professor Severus Snape had seen his memories, seen how he was raise, but it just made him happy. He continued trying to compare Harry with his father when they are proven to be nothing alike, but maybe a vicious prank on the greasy fool will put things right, or at least bring some humour to his life.

It had taken Harry awhile to get hold of a real book on occlumency because his owl kept returning from the bookstore empty. Therefore, he called on a weird little elf he had saved. The elf had gotten him the book eventually. Would you believe it? Snape wasn't trying to teach him to block out mental intrusion rather than make it easier.

Harry wondered whether that was his idea, Dumbledore or Voldemort's. The grease ball doesn't seem to have just one master but two, and then who else could he listen too? It wouldn't matter anyway as Harry cried out in pain as he was smashed into a pile of broken crap his fat cousin Dudley had manhandled and discarded.

That was what they did. Praised and pampered their bullying pile of dung son while torturing the hero nephew. It was the way they lived. The way heroes lived. He was sick of being the good guy. The hero. Dumbledore knew what his life was like, how could he not. Then others had had glimpses into his life and just didn't believe that Dumbledore would let that happen, or that Dumbledore's excuse of him being safe from wizards was any real reason.

Harry pulled himself up shakily as blood drooled from his mouth and down his head, matting in his hair and staining his filthy hand-me-down clothes. He had wondered why he kept wearing them when he had the money to buy anything he could need, but something kept stopping him every time he tried to buy some. It left him with muggle money he cant use as he can't go into any of these shops.

It wouldn't take a genius to know that it was magic stopping him. He wanted to demand an explanation out of Dumbledore, but it all ways ended with him forgetting when he got close to the headmaster and never getting a chance. It was infuriating. Hermione, his second best friend did not even believe him.

Though, she had always been too by the book. With a love of authority. She had never had to deal with people who used their power to intimidate and control before. She had only ever met twats like Draco Malfoy who thought he had power he could abuse. However, even now he can see it. Hermione was starting to see the brighter truth. No one was infallibly good! He just hoped she realised the truth that the world sucked because people in power make it suck soon for their greed or she'll be lost under Dumbledore's chains with no key for the lock.

He loved Hermione, he really did. He can't for the life of him figure out why she might like Ronald if he had read that right, or maybe it was just Ron he was reading, and his spite rubbed off so she 'attacked'.

Harry felt like she had become a sister to him. An annoying know-it-all-but-not-really sister he would have a sexual experience with if the occasion arose, but still a sister. He had never had the chance for any other family so he tried to claim her, but she can be so blind when such a respected man says to be.

Spitting out blood Harry's vision was blurred as he looked up at the fat behemoth of an angry walruses of a man. He had a bloodied smile on his lips. He knew. He would love to tear this fat prick in two and he would feel satisfied doing it too. The man is an idiot. Now he is stronger. Harry doesn't have any power to defend himself, but two years. In under two years, Harry would be a legal adult with the money and power to rip this man into pieces.

His fat monstrous uncle paused in his assault before continuing with verbal abuse. "Let that teach you boy!" he spat out red faced with anger. "Those freaks threatening us last July and now this. Having you here to ruin our holiday!"

Harry couldn't keep in the chuckle. "Like I want to be here you fat piece of turd!" he retorted, climbing shakily to his feet. "You're an ungrateful whale of blubber!" he spat out with more blood dribbling down his chin while his uncle roared out in anger.

Vernon charged with glee mixed with his anger as he pulled back a fist. Harry laughed aloud. If only he had the marginal strength of a monster like him. He would get him, strike him back, and rip him apart.

It was an odd detached feeling that woke him to reality. He looked around at the house. The room he was in. It was a mess. Flames flicking at it. Embers flickering at his flesh, dying out, but he was whole and unburnt, watching in fascination. He could see blood pooling around him. His eyes widening as he saw pieces of burnt flesh and bone.

He knew what he had done even if the memory was hazy. He had turned into something. Something monstrous. He remembered his last wish. It was only briefly granted, but he had torn out of himself and become the monster. He remembered it from his first year at Hogwarts, young, just large enough for this room. The dragon. Beautiful in a morbid and dangerous way.

However, it was chaotic, dangerous, vicious, and many other nasty things. He remembered thinking those things when confronted with it. Harry had only been the monster for a second, but it was enough. The bedroom the Dursley's had given him in fear that first year was shattered and cracked, everything that was crushable was, including his broom and trunk.

He was naked and covered in blood. He felt noting for the monster he had murdered. Looking down at his strong body, something was wrong. He had never been so muscularly defined before, lean, strong, maybe even a bit taller, healthier. It was amazing in many ways. He was further endowed than he was, and he had thought he was gifted there before, having seen many other boys in bathrooms and the like, knew that he had been gifted something for having to deal with the crap he did.

Shaking those thoughts away as he didn't need them any time soon he continued looking around. The bedroom window was shattered and the walls chargrilled. It was a mired of improvement over the prison it normally was. He still didn't know whether it was the Dursley's prison for him or Dumbledore's, but worst, secretly believing it was both.

He felt his head ache as he staggered, unable to think straight. He knew he had to leave. With the Ministry gunning for him with their idiotic lack of belief in Voldemort's return (not even asking for proof) he could end up in Azkaban prison without a trial, and that sort of thing might be common place. He doubted Dumbledore would help, more likely convince everyone its for the Greater Good, and his protection, or whatever.

Staggering his foot touched soft fabric. He crouched down and smiled as he pulled up his unmarked Invisibility Cloak. He figured that it must be more powerful than he thought to survive whatever happened to him. He was still not sure. He felt dizzy and disorientated. He held the cloak loosely in his arms as the thought of wearing it over his sore and blistered muscles hurt right now as he felt his body slowly fixing itself. He had felt this before, but only ever briefly, when he was younger, but now it was so strong he wondered how he could have ever missed it.

"I-I need to think clearly about this!" He muttered to himself as he pulled open the bedroom door, puffing for breath. "Just like Hermione would have, except without all of the authority love…" he trailed off as his body spasm, feeling a pain like before, deep in his chest.

However, this time it was different too. His mind cleared and he cried out grabbing the right of his forehead as it stung like never before, over his scar, watering his eyes. He worried that it meant that his uncles' murder by him stopped the protections and Voldemort was coming with glee in his blackened heart.

He quickly tried to shake that off. He wasn't sure there were any real protections. He pulled his hand away from his forehead with a disgusted look at some green gunk mixed with his blood. It was odd. His mind seemed to run differently. Not faster, but more restrained than it ever did. Thoughts of how only authority figures in his life had been around, to be 'friends'.

He shook his head clear as he looked down to see small breasts and a very hairy vagina. He had only ever seen the real deal in magazines, and that one time a year back when he got 'naughty' and managed to get a good yet very brief look at Ginny Weasley in the shower. He reached down to find out that his thing was gone and replaced by all this hair hiding his vagina.

He couldn't quite understand what was going on as he felt the soft folds and moisture starting to flow slowly out of it. It took his mind a moment to jump to conclusions. His energy seemed to just return, even though he felt starving. He quickly rushed over to the broken mirror. Looking inside he could see her. Hermione Granger looking back out of him. Naked.

He could feel her mind. The thoughts she might have had in this circumstance. His, or her first thought was to run to Dumbledore. After getting dressed first of course. However, that was furthest thing from his mind. He couldn't trust that Dumbledore wouldn't try to suppress his newfound power, to control him through fear that he could take over for either the light or dark, not that he cared about either.

Looking down at Hermione's hairy area was kind of odd. "Okay, someone needs to shave downstairs. That cannot be comfortable!" she said in thought. He was surprised that he sounded exactly like her, even down to her I'm-better-than-you attitude and other mannerisms that flowed naturally enough that he knew that even her parents would be fooled.

Shaking her shaggy head of brown hair she grabbed at her chest, grimacing. It hurt, like a pinching as she watched herself morphing. Reforming. She became a he, and if not for the pain she or he would have marvelled at it.

Harry looked himself over, sweating covered with some blood, not as much as before, and tired. He thought for a moment that he was an metamorphmagus, but he knew they couldn't copy that well. It was as if he hadn't quite gotten her memories. However, he had her traits, and subconscious elements. He realised that she had no one before Hogwarts apart from teachers and family. That was why she was so insistent that authority knows best. They protected her from the school bullies and the like, but that didn't help her much.

He blushed as he remembered the feel of her soft body and quickly shook that off when he heard sirens in the distance. Harry remembered what he had just done, but felt more pity over remorse. How could he feel remorse for people like him? He hated Vernon Dursley. He hated them all, and they deserved nothing but his contempt.

Charging out of the bedroom as the door out had been charred to dust he found the stairs and climbed down, awed that the rest of the house survived. He didn't know what to do. Not really when he thought back to some of the Order members. However, he realised they were not clever enough. They ran around after Dumbledore after all.

He had to be more cunning than that. He started as he entered the kitchen. He was smarter than that, more cunning. He didn't need anything more or less. Just him. His own will to survive, and to do that he needed to disappear.

Harry felt so much lighter, inside and out that he knew that whatever magiks he had been under were gone. This was his chance wasn't it? He could just torch the place and run! He gave a bloodied grin in the hallway mirror and entered the kitchen full.

Heading straight for the gas cooker he turned on all of the hobs. Then heading into the lounge he turned on the boiler fire, warming the house. Then with any luck, he laughed. The chemicals his aunt loved so much to clean the house with will accelerate the blaze. Then he would be 'dead'. So all he needed to do was figure out how to control his new ability. If he escaped, 'dead' of course otherwise the point would be mute.

Stopping at the door, he heard people outside. He frowned as he realised he couldn't just leave the house naked and… visible. He grinned as he pulled on his Invisibility Cloak and snuck out of the side door through the garage.

It was a wonder that none of his 'watchers' had charged in yet. He bet most of them would just stand back thinking everything will be okay when it wouldn't, just because Dumbledore said so.

Harry ran as well as he could with the cloak over him. He felt freer than ever. In fact, he had never felt so liberated. He was only two streets away when he heard and even felt the boom. He could only hope that some of the ignorant neighbours who agreed with the Dursleys that he was a troublemaker with no proof, even when the odd kid told them the truth was caught and hurt.

He could admit to himself that it felt very weird being outside and naked. Even under the cloak. He had to find clothes, which was surprisingly easier than he thought. He eyed the cute girls with a grin. They had clothes, and between them he could take from them without leaving one or all naked. He had to have some honour somewhere, and he wasn't a dick like certain people he knew from school, 'friends' included.

Well he wasn't a bad guy, not really, and doesn't want to be. He pulled off the cloak in front of them causing five sets of wide eyes. "If you each hand over a piece of clothing and forget you saw me I'll not hurt you! Lets face it. This is fucked up, right!"

The girls all nodded slowly with their eyes roaming up and down him, blushing bright red in the cheeks. However, they didn't move. He couldn't help himself as he smelt them. He moved, grabbing one girl's hand. She cried out and whimpered as he pulled her to the floor, growling. He felt it. His heart pulsing, pounding in his chest until the girls were looking up at a replacer of the girl crying on the floor, naked.

Harry, or. "Megan!" he muttered her name as he let her go and felt her, his breasts. They weren't very large but supple in all of the right ways, and nowhere near as hairy as Hermione was downstairs at sixteen. He looked to the other girls with a grin. She was a gentle girl inside his head, quite the fool and too trusting. She might have actually helped him if he showed himself while she was alone.

However, he looked sinister. He had too. He was committing so many crimes muggle and mage and he couldn't dillydally around to get caught. "Okay girls!" he said in her voice, standing one bare foot on her real selves chest, pinning her down while the other girls looked to him in horror.

"I don't want to hurt any of you!" he/she said, smirking. "I don't need underwear, just something to cover myself. A top, and bottoms. I don't even need anything for my feet. I can deal with that until I can get to my bank account. Understand!?"

The girls all nodded while there friend whimpered, looking up at 'herself'. The other girls looked at each other quickly while gulping and nodding their heads. He watched as one girl pulled off her white hoodie top and handed it over shakily. Harry made skin-to-skin contact when he took it, grimacing when his body changed into that of hers. Japanese. Had a secret crush on the girl he was a moment before.

"Natika-chan!" he, she said with a smirk. "You never know. Maybe Megan-chan would like to do you too," he commented while her cheeks stained bright red. He realised that though he didn't understand Japanese, he knew a few things from her as he pulled on the hoodie and zipped it up, hiding his larger breasts.

"Now if one of you could offer up a pair of shorts or a skirt!" he said, rolling her eyes as he glared coolly as her neatly trimmed vagina was catching the breeze and he was feeling the Japanese girls love and lust for the cute brown haired Megan. He didn't want to molest the girl like a pervert or anything. He was impressed with the Japanese girls' self-control, feeling all of this and hiding it all.

He watched, rolling his eyes as another girl with short blue painted hair pulled off her hoodie and wrapped it around her waist like a skirt before pulling off her short shorts and handing them over, but there was no skin contact, she actually made sure of that, so no transformation. He realised he needed to touch someone to become them.

Harry, or the cute Natika-chan 2.0 quickly pulled on the shorts. They were a little tight on her, but he didn't mind. It was better than figuring out how to put on a skirt right now. Maybe if he gets a handle on his new and weird power.

"I guess this will do!" Harry said while her toes were rubbing against Megan's chest absentmindedly while Megan whimpered with teary eyes but didn't look like a girl who feared for her life, none of them seemed to truly fear him. He turned back into Megan, feeling a strain in her body, but grinning. "Lets hope you babes don't get to meet me ever again… later!" she said as she let Megan go and quickly skipped off, giggling.

"This ability might be very useful in the future," she commented sweetly as she had gotten further from the girls alone in the park. "Plus I got to see three hot girls naked and they were all me! I'm unsure whether that's freaky so I'll say its cool!" he muttered to himself smirking. "I'm not even completely sure whether I'm male or female. I'll admit I'm feeling a little… well a lot confused. So… I need to get to Diagon Alley!"

He stopped by a road feeling uncomfortable, as he was back in his form, confused and feeling sick. He was wearing his short shorts. They were kind of crushing his balls so he changed again. He became a cute red haired girl with chocolate brown eyes.

He grabbed at her chest feeling a pang of pain, grimacing. "How could she live like this?!" he demanded angrily. "She. She feels so alone!" he looked at himself, herself. She was only eleven. "T-this was just after the Chamber of Secrets. I-I hadn't touched her since. I just let her get on with her life. I didn't care. How could I be so cold to such a cute girl? What the fuck?! No! No! I will not be like that! I'll make it up to her for being so selfish. What if she was all talk now and she still hurts because of me!?"

He took several deep breaths. "Okay. I just have to be a great friend and love her. The way she looked at me before school when I got to Grimauld Place. How the hell could I miss that crap!" he asked himself in awe. "I suck… and not in the booby kind. She doesn't have any yet. Well she does, I would think, but not in this form!" he said squeezing his non-existent breasts and tightening the drawstrings on the shorts as she placed out her hand.


He jumped as a huge triple decker bus appeared and pulled to a stop. He almost jumped out of his skin, as he hadn't expected the bus to come without a wand to call it. He blinked several times in surprise as he was back to his normal self again and loosened the shorts. He was sure he looked stupid when the pimple-faced conductor cheerfully greeted him and helped him on-board without a clue he was wearing girls clothes.

He sat down on the front bench while the weird boy chatted away to him. "Hey. You're Harry Potter right?" the spotty conductor asked but didn't await and answer. "Na, can't be, no scar, but what's up with the blood man?" he asked as if being covered in blood was normal.

"Oh, just a spell gone screwy," he replied, trying not to let the idiot remember one critical detail while trying not to skid along the floor on the bench while the bus boomed around the country at the speed of sound, and then some. Magical people. Never heard of bolting things down!

"Right!" he agreed laughing. "I've seen that a lot. I take it mate that this is a tick trip?"

"Err, sorry," he replied sheepishly as he tried to loosen his shorts more. "I'm having a really bad day, mate. Or really good day depending on how I look at it. If you don't mind I'll have the goblins send on my fair to you, please."

The conductor laughed. "Don't worry mate. Bus says you're telling the truth," he said looking at something over his shoulder. "Just pay up within the week or you'll have to start paying weekly interest rates."

"Oh, right!" he said nervously. "Well. Whatever. How about you both take five galleons each for Diagon Alley being the next stop!"

"Deal!" the driver cried out laughing as they burst on through the traffic and Harry wondered what the hell he said that for. It was a rocket ride before he offered that kind of tip, but now. That was roughly fifty pounds in muggle money, maybe a little more. He should probably look into that.

to be continued…

A/N: this is a darker, AU version of my story Shifters where the leads are older, and placed in a more dangerous time. I hope you'll enjoy this version just as much, if not then more. The story plot lines will converge in a few places, but otherwise this is a different plot. Thank you.