There is good luck, bad luck, worse luck and the worst luck.

Good luck is randomly stumbling over the hideout of the dark wizard you've been searching for months and killing him before he has the chance to draw his wand.

Bad luck is grabbing the nearest pain relief-potion, only to find out that it was polyjuice-potion with the hair of a muggle girl the dark wizard had kidnapped and tortured to death.

Worse luck is stumbling because of your shrinking legs, falling onto the corpse of the dead wizard and accidentally completing his horcrux-ritual that way.

Worst luck is binding your soul via the horcrux-ritual to the nearest object, which happens to be the time-turner around your neck.

Catastrophic luck is all of this happening in short order and you dying as a result of the heart-attack you got from realizing what just happened.

[Chapter 1] About chosing one's name

Harry crashed into the ground face first. His nose broke with a sickening crunch and his glasses shattered, piercing parts of his face and his eyes with the shards. He lay on the ground, howling in pain, so focused on the throbbing feeling of the deep numb pain that he didn't notice the people in knockturn alley turning around, curiously looking at the bleeding person lying on the ground.

Contrary to popular believe most shoppers in knockturn weren't dark, most simply enjoyed the cheaper prices which came from many shops taking the taxation more as a guideline than a binding law. And thus Harry soon found himself in St. Mungos.

The healers quickly went to work to heal the damage done to the body. They removed the shards of glass from the eyes, repaired the iris as good as possible (trapping a few drops of blood in the process, adding a few rust-red sprinkles to the otherwise pure green of the eyes) healed the lens and retina (removing the near-sightedness as they went along), mended the broken nose, restored the scrapped of skin, tried their best to restore the discoloration of skin on the right side of the face (only to wonder why the white skin seemed to refuse treatment) and healed a few bruises. Last they used a few potions to heal internal damages and malnourishment before renervating the young lady.

The „lady" was not happy to find out that „she" had somehow ended up in the hospital. „Her" mood also most certainly did not improve when she remembered what had happened, nor did it when she saw her reflection in a mirror for the first time.

„As you can see, we were able to restore your skin, but for some reason we weren't able to repair this weird discolouration on the side of your face and your forehead - we assume that this is either the result of magical scarring, for example from magical fire, or a malfunctioning appearance-altering potion. We had to flush out all potions out of your system before giving you blood-replenishing potion and some other potions, so it could be you had those before and it's nothing unexpected for you. If it's something new we can probably heal it with a bit of surgery or precision magic, but since that's only for appearance and nothing life-threatening I'm afraid that's not covered by the basic health funding. Other than that we also noticed that..."

„AAAAAAHHH!"

The nurse jumped back at the unexpected scream, but quickly caught herself and returned to her professional facial expression.

„What's the matter? Do you feel uncomfortable? This could be..."

„I got boobs!"

„Oh. Oh yes, we did detect a bit of malnourishment and gave you a potion for that, which could help with your overall growth, though it normally shouldn't take effects this quickly. Could it possibly..."

Harry blinked a few times, not really listening to the nurse at all. Only now his brain was catching up to what the events of the past few hours (?) really meant. He had died, but he wasn't dead. He apparently had a horcrux. And judging from the lack of time-turner around his neck, it was apparently somewhere else. And since he had somehow teleported face-first into the dirt after dying, it was likely that the horcrux was somewhere in this area. That could be problematic.

„Ah, excuse me...", he interrupted the rambling of the healer in the background.

„Yes?"

„Do you... errm... How did I end up in the hospital? I'm not certain what actually happened..."

The healer paused for a bit before continuing. „A man brought you in, after he found you collapsed in Knockturn alley. Apart from the possible magical scarring we only found normal wounds of non-magical origin. If you don't remember we can't be 100% certain, but we assume you simply ran and stumbled over something and fell unluckily. Of course when we heard where you've been found we did check for other evidence of deliberate use of force, or hints towards sexual assault, but we couldn't find any of that."

The last sentence she said with what Harry assumed to be an encouraging smile, but since Harry more or less knew what had happened, he hadn't worried about the possibility of rape anyway. Not that the thought had entered his mind anyway, he hadn't fully switched over to thinking about himself in a female body yet, so the possibility seemed absurd to him at first glance.

„Oh... Okay... Yes, that seems about right."

The nurse looked really relieved after hearing this.

„So... umm... does that mean I can leave now?"

The nurse took a look at Harry's files for one last time before answering.

„Yes, the damages all were pretty easy to fix, so I don't see any reason to keep you here any longer. Do you know how to find the floo?"

Harry simply nodded, stood up and left the room. He was relieved that this whole affair had worked without any bigger problems, like them asking him who he was. He really didn't want to mention that he was Harry Potter, because that would only lead to more gossip in the newspapers over why the Boy-who-lived/-killed-Voldemort was running around polyjuiced as a little girl. And for the alternative, which was to quickly come up with an alias, he wasn't creative enough. He could obviously use the name of a classmate, but that could lead to embarrassment for them if they showed up in the hospital and noticed someone had used their name. And simply inventing a new name would most likely end with him having a name so stupid, that he'd end up laughing every time someone tried to call him by it. No, knowing himself he'd probably look around the room in panic and string together the first few words he read somewhere, which was even worse than coming up with a new name.

Good thing polyjuice-potion always wore off after an hour, right? No need to worry that the potion had already left his system somehow and he was still was stuck in this changed body and would need to adapt to this eventually. Haha, that thought was laughable.

Harry reached the floo-area of the hospital, happy to escape without being confronted with any of these problems. A green flash of fire later he stood in was back in his house. And the thick dust that covered every single surface in the house finally drove home the point that something had seriously gone wrong.