Disclaimer: I own nothing, all of it belong to J.K Rowling, I am just playing in her sandbox for a while.
Authors Note: AU: This is a gender-switch story, if its not your cup of tea you have been warned. It will deal with some mature topics, so will be rated as such. Parings, oh to be sure. If you don't like Fem!Slash once again, stop reading now. Anyway, enough of the warnings. Its not my first fanfic but its my first Harry Potter, so I hope you enjoy it. The story starts at the end of the 5th Book.
Harry James Potter felt like fate's chew toy. One year the hero of the Wizarding world, the next portrayed as the next Dark Lord. After almost losing his soul to Dementors a second time, it came as no surprise that little adventure was the high point of the school year.
"Get out of the car boy; I don't have time to waste with your freakishness." His Uncle Vernon bellowed.
Acknowledging the red-faced man with a wave of his hand, Harry reluctantly climbed out of the car. Even with all of the problems in the Wizarding world, he would rather be hit with a Cruciatus than spend another summer with his so-called relatives.
"Harry, we will be gone for two weeks visiting Vernon's sister." His Aunt Petunia did not waste any words, for example actually greeting her nephew, as he came through the door. Instead, she pointed to a notepad on the coffee table. "Those are your chores; we expect them to be completed every day. In addition, when we return, the three of us will be having a discussion on your future in this home."
Uncle Vernon snorted gleefully. "You should start packing now, boy, when you come of age I expect you out of the house, never to return."
Half listening to the rest of his uncle's threats, Harry closed the door behind them. Normally celebrations would commence with his relatives absent for the next two weeks but he really had little to celebrate. Mentally exhausted, tired of death, of fighting, of being alone, only sleep held any real interest. Crawling into bed, not even bothering to undress, he wanted nothing more than oblivion.
"And I thought nightmares about Voldemort were bad."
Sitting up in bed, Harry took one look at the clock before falling back on his pillow, disgusted. After watching Sirius fall through the veil, he expected more nightmares. Instead, his dreams had been just plain weird. Not terrifying, but different, ever changing almost as if hobbled together like some sort of strange dream collage.
Realizing the futility of going back to sleep, Harry slipped out of bed, only to find that his wish for a normal peaceful summer had already come to naught.
"Bloody hell…what now." He couldn't help whine, as he crossed the hall to the bathroom.
Standing in front of the mirror, the Boy-Who-Lived found that his hair had grown overnight. Long, black almost reaching down to his shoulder. Oddly enough, he noted, the infamous Potter hair was defeated when it gained any length.
"Weird, I look a little like Sirius." Remembering something similar occurring when he was younger, Harry didn't panic; it was just another damn thing.
Later in the afternoon, with the chores finally out of the way, Harry smiled for the first time in a while. Working in the garden must have had some sort of cathartic therapy, he decided. His grief had not vanished but it was muted under the warm summer sun.
"Must be the long hair." Harry chuckled, having decided to keep the new hairstyle. He tempted fate when mumbling something about a little change being good for him. Little did he know that thought would come to bite him in the ass a few days later.
Finding a comfortable spot in backyard, Harry pulled the first of several books that Sirius managed to sneak to him from the Black library. Subjects most definitely not covered as part of Hogwarts' curriculum. Most would be surprised at the varied topics, however, if they truly knew what he had experienced in the last five years, they shouldn't be.
"Having someone try and murder you every year is its own motivator." Harry once commented, something Sirius readily agreed after spending the better half of that year training his godson. Of course, Voldemort attempt at his life in the graveyard gave Harry's statement a little more validity.
Harry looked up with book in hand, surprised to find the sun already setting as a small owl landed next to him. "Good evening Kyu. Want some bacon; I still have some from lunch if you're interested." Smiling at the small greyish-brown owl, he placed a few small pieces in front of her before retrieving the letters.
"I see your lovely Mistress didn't waste any time writing to me." Harry mused, happily finding that his friend Luna Lovegood managed to include The Best of Runic Puzzles. A special issue released every few years by the Quibbler.
"Apparently you'll be spending the rest of your summer in Sweden. I'm jealous." Already missing the blonde haired Ravenclaw, Harry read the letter once more before writing his own.
She had been a good friend when he so desperately needed one. In a repeat of fourth year, with his fellow students believing the nonsense the Daily Prophet was pushing, Harry spent most of his free time sitting by the lake. Luna had gone out her way to hunt him down, making sure he knew that she and her father believed that Voldemort had returned. For that, he would be forever grateful.
"She was like a Valkyrie, Kyu." Remembering how Luna fought in the Department of Mysteries, Harry helped the young owl on its way home. Realizing the rest of his summer would now be much of the same, Harry reluctantly walked back into his relative's house.
The next few days passed much as he predicted, until late one night a dream brought him out of a deep sleep. Memories of passing through a room full of strange artifacts, deep inside in the Department of Mysteries, filled his head. Memories that been forgotten. Something inside that room had called to him, touched him like a lover, caressing his magic.
Outside Mundungus Fletcher, member of the Order of the Phoenix, slept peacefully as the power grid in and around 4 Privet Drive flickered then overloaded, nor did the unearthly scream preceding the flash of light that came from Harry's room wake him.
Half-awake now, memories of the strange room inside the Department of Mysteries resurfaced. Separated while fighting Voldemort's minions, Harry had passed through a room filled with items commonly found inside the British Museum. He hadn't taken more than a half a dozen steps before strange visions; much like his dreams, filled his head. Next thing Harry knew, he stood in the center of the Death Room reunited with his friends.
Pushing away those memories, at least for now, Harry opened his eyes, revealing his bedroom in perfect clarity. "Long hair and now perfect vision?"
The sound of his own voice shocked him. With a queasy feeling in his stomach, Harry sat up and sure enough, a strange weight pulled down at his chest.
"That's just fucking great." Harry fiercely whispered, now sounding much like a young girl.
Slowly reaching under his shirt, his hands cupped a female breast while the other hand slipped into his pants, finding something rather important missing. As he processed the information, part of him thought, so that's what a girl feels like, the other part panicked. The panicked part won.
Screeching like a banshee, Harry scrambled out of bed, running across the room to only trip on her own two feet. That didn't stop her, however, as she half crawled, half ran to stand in front of the bathroom mirror.
"Why does everything happen to me?" Harry cried out, getting her first glimpse at a cute looking teenage girl with thick shining dark hair, pouty lips, regal looking cheekbones and piercing green eyes. Stumbling backwards, she touched her face.
"Sweet Mauve, except for the eyes, I look like Bellatrix's daughter. No glasses and wait no scar either." Leaning forward, she found that the once red scar had healed leaving just a thin white line.
Harry's mind whirled a mile a minute before she burst into tears. This was too much. Sliding down to the ground, she rocked back and forth, for how long she did not know until she suddenly started to laugh. Not for long, mainly because it she sounded too much like Bellatrix's insane cackle.
Feeling quite numb, Harry stumbled back into her bedroom, slipping under the covers wishing and praying that it was all a dream. Hours later, after actually falling back to sleep, the call to nature became a rather pressing issue.
"I'm really going to kill the person who did this to me."
As Harry reluctantly crossed the all to the bathroom, her first thoughts drifted towards the Weasley twins who she knew were working hard on opening their joke shop. She gave them the money after all. This all had to be some sort of elaborate prank, right?
"Merlin, I have a ….." Slipping out of her clothes, she stood in shock, unable to even say the word. Deciding to get it over with, Harry sat down and started to get ready for the day.
Returning to the bedroom, with a towel wrapped around her body in the female way, Harry simply ignored the three letters sitting in the center of the room. Drying off, she quickly threw on one of Dudley's old t-shirts before joining them on the floor.
Grabbing the first, she read. "Dear Miss Alya Cassiopeia Black."
"Who in the hell is Alya Black?" Harry noticed that the other two were addressed to the same unknown girl.
"Typical, she got off with a warning for the use of underage magic and I got to stand in front of the entire Wizengamot."
Tossing it aside in disgust, Harry picked up the second letter, also sent from the Ministry of Magic. "Oh look, how nice, they are apologizing for the first letter, figures."
"Head of House; wonder what that means. Interesting, the second letter is addressed to a Milady Alya Cassiopeia Black." She mumbled.
Nervously, she picked up the last letter. "Looks to be from Gringotts, can't be too bad, right?"
The salutations filled her stomach with butterflies. "To Milady Alya Cassiopeia Black, Head of House Black, Heiress of House Potter."
"OK, bad enough." Remembering Sirius had made her his heir, plus the little addition at the end of the salutation, confirmed all of the letters were for her.
"So they want me meet with them to discuss my inheritance." Looking down at her newfound body, she had a sudden epiphany. One so great Alya almost started to bounce around the room in joy.
She was free. Free from manipulating Headmasters, free from fair weather friends and from abusive relatives. Best of all, she was free from a raving lunatic intent on killing her.
"I bet old snake face wouldn't recognize me." She giggled finding herself happily dancing about the room. "I could walk out the door and no one would be the wiser."
So many possibilities, she thought, moreover, because she was "Head of House" the Ministry didn't even care if she cast magic.
"Alright, first thing, I need some new clothing." Wearing Dudley's old castoffs was out. On her new body, they were excessively large, more like wearing a circus tent.
Almost falling head first down the stairs, finding her center of gravity off, Alya searched the kitchen for her Aunt's pile of Woman's Magazines. Grabbing the stack, she rushed back upstairs. She had some Transfiguring to do.
"Not too bad." Alya commented as she turned around in front of a full-length mirror behind the door in her Aunts bedroom. With Harry's abysmal sense of fashion, especially women, selecting outfits from the magazine seemed a rather good start. Uncomfortable or not, she couldn't help but stare at the cute girl looking back at her. If circumstances were different, Harry might have been tempted to ask her to Hogsmeade.
"Wow, that's just too weird."
With the ease in which she transfigured another outfit, Alya discovered that her metamorphosis had made her more in touch with her magic as well. She didn't think she was particularly stronger, it was just different, better.
The only thing distasteful however had been the need to transfigure several of her Aunts bras. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for Alya to realize that wearing that particular undergarment would be unavoidable.
"Make up." The young girl panicked before retrieving one of the books Luna gave her for Christmas in the hope to taming the Potter hair. "Grooming and Beauty Spells for the Common Witch or Wizard."
Alya understood the needed for everything to be perfect. She couldn't chance anyone suspecting that she was anything other than what she appeared. However, one thought bothered her quite a bit. Just because she looked like a girl, and even sounded like one, she didn't believe she acted like one.
Sitting back on the Aunt's bed, Alya tried to think who should she emulate. Luna or Fleur perhaps, even most of the girls in the DA might work however she was a Black right?
"Bellatrix is out, since we are a little short on crazy today."
Alya suddenly grinned knowing exactly who she needed to copy, Daphne Greengrass. Like many, Harry had often stopped to watch the beautiful blonde haired Slytherin walk through the halls.
While wandering about Privet Drive, channeling the epitome of a pureblood Princess, Alya set other plans in motion as well. According to Dumbledore, she had to remain at her relative's house for two weeks to charge the blood wards. Due to her newfound interest in runes and warding, Sirius had let her borrow a number of books, one of them a rather old book on blood wards.
Simply, the Headmaster had been less than truthful, as it should take days not weeks to recharge the blood wards. However, truthful or not, that no longer mattered, only that it gave her a few extra days to prepare. Eventually someone, perhaps Dumbledore himself would come to retrieve her and Alya planned on being long gone.
One thing for certain, no matter what happened afterwards; she planned never to return to Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging Surrey.
Wrapping herself in her Auror's cloak, Nymphadora Tonks worried for Harry not liking how he looked at King's Cross-station. Like her mother, Tonks considered herself a Black and although distantly related, he was family and family did not leave other family members alone at times like this.
"Where are you going, Harry?" Standing up as the door to Privet Drive opened, she reached for her wand but backed down. "Probably not Bellatrix but who is she?"
The metamorph Auror suddenly smiled. "Why you little sneak, just like your godfather, finding comfort in the arms of a beautiful woman. And by the look of it, she spent the night as well…naughty…naughty."
Grinning, Tonks quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself before stepping out of the bushes only to slip and fall. Stifling a curse, she looked around, relieved to see the raven-haired girl had not stopped walking.
Quickly catching up, Tonks stood back as the girl drew her wand to summon the Knight Bus.
"Must be someone from school. " Feeling a little better for him, she turned back around, looking forward to sharing the news of Harry's little friend.
Stepping onto the street in front of the Leaky Cauldron, Alya felt relieved. At first, she wondered who was on Harry Watch, that was until she heard someone trip and fall. Her confidence grew when Tonks didn't stop her but she still Alya remained cautious, especially as Stan Shunpike wouldn't stop staring. That was until Alya realized, the Knight Bus's conductor was actually checking her out. After that, she just felt annoyed.
"Creepy." Alya mumbled, quickly noticing some Cauldrons patrons gave her the once-over as she spoke with Tom, the owner of the pub. Understanding a little bit what women have to go through, she quickly found her room. At least if things went well, she would only have to stay at the inn for a few more days.
Feeling safer behind a few complex wards, Alya unshrunk her trunk. Seeing how little she owned, Alya knew she would need to start replacing her wardrobe. Why hadn't she gone shopping before? It's not for the lack of gold. Instead, year after year, she attended Hogwarts in ill-fitting hand me down clothing.
Alya finally understood why, she never tried to better herself. Called a freak for most of her life, it came as no surprise that part of her must have believed it to be true. So why dress better, why assert herself in class, why make new friends, really why bother?
With a cry of frustration, she slammed the lid of her trunk, disgusted with what she had become and what it had cost her. At that moment, Alya swore that she would move forward. She wouldn't stand and let others dictate her life anymore. She would be proactive and beware those who stood in her way.