Harry Potter and the Newest Girl
Disclaimer: Harry and most of the other characters are the creations of JK Rowling. Harrietta, Salessandra and D'Arcy are mine.
Harry had first begun to feel funny on the journey on the Hogwarts Express. At first he'd written it off to queasiness; after that showdown with the Death Eaters and his terrible summer, he was emotionally exhausted. Add to that the pressures of sixth year, and, well, poor Harry was nearing the end of his tether. I wish I could sit with Ron and Hermione in the prefects' car, he thought to himself, I can't wait to hear all about Hermione's summer term at the Boston Academy for Witches. I wonder if she's picked up any strange American spells... Though Ginny, Neville, and the others tried to engage him in chit-chat, Harry simply wasn't interested. He was past anger and fully into depression and moodiness. When they arrived at Hogwarts, even a cheerful greeting from Hagrid, a great new sorting-song, and a tremendous feast did nothing to change his mood. And Hermione's stories weren't all that great, either. Just rubbish about the girls giving each other makeovers and watching baseball, the thorough muggality of which fascinated Ron. Harry was mostly silent, and no one seemed to notice or care.
Late that first night Harry was awakened by chest pains and a tingling sensation in his lower abdomen. He tried until three am to get back to sleep, but the pain only increased. A tortured cry escaped his lips against his wishes.
"Harry!" He'd awakened Ron and Seamus. Their faces registered shock and fear. Harry's was contorted in a grimace of pain. His scar was visibly burning a bright red.
"D'you think it's...you-know-who?" whispered Seamus.
"I dunno..." said Ron, "But we'd better get him to the infirmary!"
Ron and Seamus had half dragged, half carried Harry there. Madam Pomfrey had kept on a brave face in front of the boys, but the second they were gone she'd sent for the Headmaster. It was at Grimmauld Place that Harry awoke, and Dumbledore and Lupin were the only other people there.
As soon as the shaggy black head lifted woozily from the pillow, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Good morning."
Harry tried to reply, but found that he couldn't make any noise. Lupin smiled at him fondly. "You've had a rough ordeal, much harder than anything I've ever been through. Here, take some of this..." Lupin passed him a bit of chocolate. To Harry's horror, the hand he extended to accept it was delicate...womanly, even. Then he realized that he could see perfectly, though he hadn't put on his glasses. He gasped.
"That's right." said Dumbledore. "You've been through an extraordinary change, a very rare one indeed! You see, Harry, when under a great deal of stress, or a threat of extreme danger, some wizards' bodies will adapt, to provide them with security or a new beginning..."
But...a sex change!? thought Harry, confused and angry, who still couldn't speak. What will happen to me now? Will I still like women, or...or...will I never feel that way for Cho or Hermione or Ginny or that pretty Muggle Peggy I met over the summer ever again?
"Only a very powerful wizard has such physiological capabilities, however." added Lupin, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Until today, I'd written off the possibility-- old wives' tales, I thought-- it's not documented anywhere I've looked. You are special indeed Har--" Lupin broke off for a moment, unsure of what to call this new person.
"I think 'Harry' will do for now, Remus. Would you mind perhaps excusing us? It is time I told this young lady some more about her background."
"Of course, Professor. Enjoy the chocolate, Harry." Remus left and closed the door behind him. A moment later Dumbledore muttered a few words in his direction, modifying his memory to exclude this episode. It would now just seem a strange dream, though Remus might smart at the coincidence of having it the night of Harry's death from a strange illness.
Dumbledore cleared his throat once more. "What I am about to tell you," he started, "Is strictly confidential. You must not divulge this information to another living soul..." Harry nodded. "Well, then...You, Harry Potter, are the first wizard since the time of Salazar Slytherin to exhibit such powers. This is not a well-known fact, but Salazar began and ended life as Salessandra. A very misunderstood character, though very powerful and, at heart, good." Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and wiped away a tear. "The only reason I know this is that I am really Godric Gryffindor; born and reborn again, popping up in this place at this time, and that during other eras; like my pet Fawkes, never dying. You, Harry, are the descendant of my only child, Godfroid." Here a tear trickled down his wrinkled cheek. "It was Salessandra's fate to die in childbirth...embrace me, and know that you are the heir of Syltherin and Gryffindor both, and please look up to me as father!"
Harry's eyes were wide with surprise, but he could not have been happier to hug the old man. A new beginning! A life as a girl; a father figure to replace the ones he'd lost, one who would never be defeated, one who would never fall behind the veil of death. They could be separated only by geography and by Harry's death. The old man would be left lonely, but never Harry. It was a comforting, although selfish, thought to the young person whose life had lately become so topsy-turvy.
Dumbledore continued at last. "Oh, Harry, I thought it might be you but I couldn't be sure; I knew there was one last person on this Earth carrying my DNA, as Muggles call it, but I couldn't find out for sure who it was. I couldn't bear to have yours tested, in case I was wrong-- oh, the disappointment! But now I know! Oh, if Salessandra knew, she'd be so happy. My poor, misunderstood darling...oh, but enough of that. Who wants to hear an old man blubber so, for his long-lost love! My dear child, this is another layer to your protection from Lord Voldemort. Your scar is gone; Harry Potter has vanished, is done. You will go as Harrietta to the Leaky Cauldron and after a few weeks, if you wish, you can return to Hogwarts. Although I think very highly of Beauxbatons and of the Boston Academy for Witches both, and you would have the option of starting over there anew...yes, perhaps...it would cause less confusion for you..."
"No," said Harry. He was surprised to recover his voice, and to hear how it had changed. It was higher than before, more melodious. On the whole he liked it better. "I-- I'd like to go back to Hogwarts. There is such a thing as too much change, you know."
Dumbledore smiled sadly, remembering the death of his love; the incalculable sadness of that change had been too much to bear; as Godric Gryffindor he'd ceased. Eventually he'd returned to write the official history of Hogwarts, misdirecting future generations: another change, the erasure of their love from history. At times he regretted it. What would his only lover, Salessandra, and his long-dead son Godfroid-- lonely sparks within the lengthy darkness of his life-- have thought? But he had felt it had to be. After a long pause he replied to the pretty young girl he thought of as granddaughter. "Yes, of course, you're right Har-- would you mind if I called you Harrietta?"
The young lady was radiant as she replied, "No, not at all."
"I shall have to be off, to make arrangements for your arrival at Hogwarts. You must feign surprise about everyone you meet, and all the things you do; indeed, the way people react to you, and the way you react to people and things, will now be different." He thought of how the wizarding world had reacted to the sight of Gryffindor and Slytherin--Salessandra now, rather than Salazar-- together. It had been a very different outlook for both of them, but for Salessandra especially. He'd never entirely understood it; he certainly wasn't sure how to explain it. But by now he'd said his goodbyes, distracted as he was, and made his way to the fireplace. A last glance, a handful of powder, and he was gone. He was more full of emotion than he had been in years, and under the watchful eyes of the portraits he couldn't indulge in a good cry. It would have to wait. Besides, Harrietta's transition was most important now. He would have to send a notice to the Dursleys: Harry's death. He doubted they'd be at all upset. The Weasleys would be a different matter... he'd have to modify the memories of some of the staff at St. Mungo's to make the story work. And he'd have to prepare the professors, Minerva especially. He hadn't felt so alive in years.