Alright. This is my first HP fic, So I'd appreciate honest opinions.
I'm kind of tired of all of the HPDM fics out there that turn harry into a woman just so he can Shag Draco. It's irritating to me, especially with all of the wonderful Fem stories out there. So I thought I'd give you a story that's somewhat more realistic. I'm used to writing yaoi, so again, positive criticism, anything helpful; that's what I want. I hope you enjoy Chapter 1, guys!
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter, as I am unfamiliar with most British terms. SORRY :|
Harry sat in his bedroom, staring up at his fan as it turned slowly, every other spin straining and letting a somewhat irritating creak resound through the bedroom. In her cage in the corner of the room, Hedwig hooted softly as she slept. Harry couldn't restrain a smile at the soft noises, comforting him. This is what he'd been doing every since the start of summer. Each night, he would lay down on his bed and just stare, thinking. Thinking about sirius, whose death had hit him hard, but Harry had long ago accepted it wasn't his fault. He thoguht about Dumbledore, too. The old man had been as sort of a grandfather his first three years, and a mentor until his death. Harry had been considerably upset after the MoM incident, mostly because alot of people had worked it out in their head that if Dumbledore had told Harry of the prophecy before, that tragedy might've been avoided. But again, it wasn't the old man's fault. After all... He was just looking out for him.
It was a week before his 17th birthday. A week before The Order would show up and whisk him away from the Dursleys. Granted, they hadn't been as violent this summer, but it was still unpleasant, waking up to the shreiks and whines of the animals that called themselves a normal family. For most of the summer, Harry had been outside. He'd started doing small work for people around the neighborhood, mostly heavy lifting and mowing. A little gardening here and there, along with cleaning and taking care of animals and children. All of the heavy work had paid off somewhat. His musculature had improven, not being overly massive, but a definition had appeared. He'd finally- FINALLY- hit some sort of growth spurt, now a respectable and much more preferable 5'9". It was still short for a guy, especially when compared to Ron, but Harry was just glad he could finally reach the top cupboard in the pantry.
At that moment, Harry was content with his life. Right then, he wasn't really thinking of his destiny, or the wizarding world. For that summer, he was just a normal teenage boy, if only one with questionable parents and somewhat strange abilities that he pretended 'Normal' guys had. As far as he was concerned, ask anybody in his neighborhood and they'd tell you they could fight off a hoard of dementors with one patronus, travel through time, and survive the impossible.
A large thunder crash echoed through his room, drawing a wince. The weather had been dreading, dark storm cloud coming and going throughout the day. Harry knew it would atleast rain sooner or later.
"Boy! Get down here!" Came Aunt Petunia's high voice. Without a word, but with a sigh, Harry slid out of his bed and through his open door, padding down the stairs and stopping in the hallway. The Dursleys were all three holed up on the couch, their attention to the Tele like a saint in church, the religious way they watched Television still disturbing Harry.
"Go get the tarp and ladder from the shed. The hole's still in the roof from Dudley hitting that amazing homerun and I don't want water on my carpet. GO!"
Harry nodded wordlessly, inwardly ramming his head against a wall. Surely they could've given him the task BEFORE the rain started. He grabbed a too-big jacket from the coat rack and slipped the hood onto his head, heading out the door.
The wind was stronger than usual, the trees around the house tilted almost onto their side in the force. Harry grimaced, running over to the shed. It took him a moment to find the ladder and tarp in the dark, but, after tripping over every possible shed-protected object, he managed to escape with nothing more than a bruised ego and a blush.
Perhaps he went about tarping the roof in a completely WRONG sort of way. Perhaps the way he climbed the ladder was just a bit too resentful, and stomping accross the roof was just a bit too much of a bad idea. Harry sighed and flipped the tarp out of it's fold, laying across the hole above his Aunt and Uncles room. Digging nails from his pocket, he set the first one on the far corner of the tarp, ready to hammer away.
OF course, the tarp had other plans. The wind picked up at that moment, and the drifty material rose up into the air. In his attempt to catch the runaway tarp, Harry himself got caught in the slapping wind, falling backwards. His arms flailed left and right in his attempt to stop the gravity, but...
After nearly an hour of yelling for his Aunt, she had come out to see him laying in the flowerbed, leg bent at an unnatural and surely painful angle. They had reluctantly taken him to the hospital, Petunia nagging at him the entire way, saying he'd replant those marygolds no matter how much pain he was in. Harry had of course agreed, expecting nothing less. As if he could've started flying midair to protect his Aunt's precious flowers.
The doctor had put a cast on his leg, the left tibia being broken. After advising Harry to stay off of it for the next 6 weeks, he smiled and sent the normal american family on their way.
"Get out there boy! If those flowers aren't presentable by this afternoon, I'll have your head!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."
4 Days later found Harry laying on his bed, reading a swiped home decor magazing he'd gotten from the bathroom when an owl knocked on his window. He looked up at the little brown bird, recognizing the tiny owl as pig.
Gingerly, he stood, keeping pressure off of his foot as he hopped over to the window to let in the small brown thing. Pig hooted and dropped the letter into Harry's hands before flying around the room, looking completely retarded.
I hope you're well. I apologize for not writing you, pup, but it's been a rough couple months. The full moon was two days ago, and I'm still a little out of sorts.
The Order told me there had been a Death Eater attack near Surrey yesterday. Are you alright? You aren't hurt, right? I would come get you myself, but again, The Order says that could give away your location... If Voldemort doesn't have it already.
Please be careful. Stay inside. Don't talk to anyone who isn't from the Order.
Harry reread and reread the letter. Stumbling backward and falling onto the bed, he heard the paper rip slightly under his harsh grip. Death Eaters. Death Eaters outside of Surrey, right outside where Harry was 'Hiding'.They knew. They knew where Harry was and were coming for him. Harry's breath increased immediately, a hand coming up to clutch at his irratically beating heart. He wasn't ready to fight Voldemort, not after last year, not after the year before, even.
'Shut up, Harry... It's not like they can get past the blood wards.'
Yeah. There were always the blood wards. There must've been a reason went on and on about them. They'd protect him... right?
The night before he was officially 17, Harry lay on his uncomfortable bed with his leg propped up on a pillow. He was staring at the ceiling, as he had done every night prior, when a tapping came from his window.
Sighing, and expecting an owl, Harry stood and shuffled over. He sleepily reached out to open the drapes, when a cool hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
Not expecting it, Harry gave a small scream, jumping backward and inadvertantly helping the intruder into his bedroom. The man landed on the floor as Harry hobbled away, trying to get his wand from under the pillow. The man, however, had a different plan, and grabbed Harry by the hair, jerking him backward.
"No no, little Lion. You come here." He sneered, wrapping a tight, restricting arm around the boy. Harry gave a frustrated cry as he struggled to no avail. "You can't get away, Harry. Just take your medicine like a man."
Being pushed to the floor, Harry felt weight on his chest the moment his back hit the carpet. The man, we'll call him Dolohov, grabbed Harry's jaw and forced his mouth open.
"Swallow, like a good little boy." He sneered, pouring an acidic yellow potion into his mouth. Harry tried to spit it out, but Dolohov forced him to swallow.
"The Dark Lord sends his regards, Potter, but not officially. Hopefully this'll land me in good graces..." He muttered, partially talking to himself. Harry coughed and tried to glare up at the man, but the pain in his head was distracting. The room started spinning, and Harry felt the weight dissappear.
"Good night, Golden Boy." He heard as the world went black.
The world came into focus slowly, brimming with the fog Harry was sure his mind had created for the sole purpose of taunting him. He groaned as he realized he had not propped up his leg, and the groan turned into a terrified gasp as what happened the night before caught up with him. What had that potion been? Why the hell wasn't he dead? Sitting up quickly, he looked around his room from his position on the floor. Nothing really seemed out of place. Standing, he hopped over to the loo, intent on relieving himself.
He stood in front of the commode, unfastening his pants and poising to start, but instead of piss, a scream came out.
"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Shit! Augh! What the Fuck?" He screamed, pulling his pants back up. His hands pulled and felt around his entire body, frantic.
"Shit, no, this can't happen. This can't EVER happen. Merlin, no." He ranted under his breath, afraid if his volume increased he would have a breakdown. Running toward the mirror, Harry stopped and stared at his reflection with hesitance.
His hair was the same, a messy, untamable flop of midnight on his skull, shifting in new directions when he moved, just barely brushing his shoulders and eyes. His face was softer than before, made even more so by his newly wide and bright eyes, blackened around the edges by lashes. The only visible change underwent by his torso was the curve of his waist, and the ease it went into his wider hips.
More noticable, of course, was the lack of his familiar anatomy, and the gain of small, definite breasts. They were there just enough to be noticed.
"Oh God... Oh God." Harry breathed, sinking to the floor. "What the hell did he do?"
Most men don't really know this, but along with womenhood comes certain difficulties. First thing being the monthly cycle.
After Harry had brought himself off of the floor, his state of shock dissapating, he had gone to his bed to sleep his depression of the situation away. He hadn't yet fully processed what had happened, and stayed in a very fervent state of denial, avoiding the restroom at all costs.
A short 4 days into the 'situation', Harry had awoken for some reason. He felt something as he shifted and looked down to find a small blood stain on his pants. This of course, led to panic.
"Oh Fuck! Why am I bleeding?" He cried, wanting to check, but not wanting to see himself, somehow feeling like a pervert for looking. After much mulling he had gone into the bathroom to search for the 'wound'.
"Why the hell is it bleeding?'
After a few moments, because our Harry isn't entirely clueless, he realized what it was, having head Hermione griping about it. He blushed, but embarrassment was overthrown by the devastation of what this reminded him.
He wasn't Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Golden Boy, Boy anything anymore...
He was a girl. That was that.
Not showering, Harry found, was possibly the most disgusting thing he had ever experianced. He avoided having to take off his clothing, not wanting to see. Vernon had forbid him from leaving his room until he washed, leaving him hungry but just as unable to mentally handle the changes. He had been wearing the same thing for about 15 days, putting off the inevitable.
"Boy! Those freaks are here!" Came the scream from downstairs, sounded out by the footsteps coming up the stairs toward his door. Harry's eyes widened just as the door opened to reveal one happy Remus Lupin, and a very irritated Severus Snape.