Harry groaned and rolled over, trying to shut out the sunlight, but finally gave it up. He opened his eyes and looked around his room. Dean and Seamus were beginning to stir, but Ron was nowhere to be found. That was odd, considering that his best friend was always the last one up. On some occasions, he even had to resort to using rictusempra to rouse him. He peeked out into the common room, but he wasn't there either.

"Hey, Dean, Seamus," he said, "where's Ron?"

"Who?" Seamus muttered sleepily.

"Ron."

Dean had turned over and was now looking at him. "Do you mean Ronald Weasley?" he asked with a puzzled expression.

Harry tried to hide his frustration. He knew they were still waking up, but this was ridiculous. "Yeah, who else would I be talking about?"

"How should we know where Weasley is?" Seamus said grumpily. "He's probably either in the Great Hall or the library, knowing him."

Seeing that he wasn't going to get any more help from them, he started to leave, but stopped when he saw the poster hanging over Seamus' bed.

"Hey, Seamus," he asked slowly, "why do you have a poster of the Bulgarian National Quidditch team?"

"Huh? Why wouldn't I?" the other boy said. "I love their team. Everyone knows that."

Harry frowned slightly. Was this some sort of prank? "I thought you liked the Irish."

Seamus bolted up in bed, suddenly wide awake. "The Irish?" he bellowed. "Blegh! What are you sayin' Harry? I hate them, the blasted, cheating Leprechauns!"

Harry quietly slipped out of the room, leaving Seamus still ranting about how their beaters were dirty, rotten and other choice words he didn't care to repeat. He had to find Ron and talk with him. Maybe he knew what had caused the sudden change in their dormmate.

He decided to head to the Great Hall first, since he wanted to grab some breakfast anyway. He spotted Cho Chang in the hallway and waved at her. He waited for her to smile confidently and wave back like she always did, but instead she froze and looked behind her, as if she expected to see someone else there.

As he drew closer, he could see that something was definitely different about her. She was usually surrounded by a group of people, but now she walked alone. Her long black hair, which she was always tossing tantalizingly over her shoulder, hung down limply, covering most of her face.

"Cho are you alright?"

She started violently and backed away. "Y-Yes, I'm fine," she stammered, then hurried down the hallway without another word.

He considered going after her, but eventually shrugged and continued on. It was probably some girl problem which he had no way of helping with anyway.

He finally arrived at the Great Hall. He started towards his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, but stopped short as the sound of clattering dishes and frightened cries pierced the air. He scanned the room, and quickly found the source. A group of green-robed Slytherins were terrorizing some of the younger Hufflepuff students.

Harry sighed inwardly, knowing exactly who was causing the trouble.

"Hey, Malfoy," he called out. "When are you going to learn to grow up and just leave them alone?"

But when the group of Slytherins turned around to face him, he nearly fell backwards onto the table in surprise. Instead of Malfoy and his gang, he was staring straight into the faces of Hannah Abott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillian, Zacharias Smith, and Susan Bones, all of them looking strangely unfamiliar with their green robes and menacing glares. And strangest of all was the sight of Neville standing in the center, his round face twisted with a malicious expression.

"Neville…you guys…what—what's going on?"

"That's Longbottom to you, Potter," Neville sneered.

Harry gaped at them. "I don't understand. Why are you guys wearing Slytherin robes?"

Neville broke into harsh laughter, along with his posse of Hufflepuffs. "Wow, I knew you weren't all that bright, Potter, but even for you this is a bit much, isn't it?"

One of the young Hufflepuff boys who had been sitting at the table took this moment to try and sneak away.

"Whoa, there." Neville reached out and grabbed the collar of the boy's robe. "Not so fast, brat. You haven't paid up yet."

The boy whimpered, looking as if he wished he could disappear. "B-But I already gave you all of my pocket money!"

"Shut up!" Neville snarled, giving the boy a rough shake. "You gave me stinkin' mudblood money! You expect me to use those stupid pieces of paper?"

This was enough to pull Harry out of his reverie. "Hey, Neville! I don't know if you're playing a prank or what, but you're taking it too far!"

Neville merely smirked. "And what're you going to do about it, Potter?"

Harry's body seemed to move on his own. He pulled out his wand and leveled it at Neville. "I don't want to do this, Neville, but if you don't let him go, I have no choice but to fight you."

He stood there tensely, wondering frantically what he would do if Neville didn't back down. But to his relief, the other boy merely spat at him before turning on his heel and stalking away with his Hufflepuff/Slytherin gang.

Harry knew now that something was very wrong, and his desire to find Ron became even stronger. He was about to go back to the Gryffindors when he glimpsed a head of bright red hair at the Ravenclaw table. His heart leapt as he recognized his best friend.

He hurried towards him. "Hey, Ron!"

But Ron didn't seem to hear him. He was engaged in a conversation with a pretty blonde Ravenclaw that Harry didn't recognize.

"Ron!" he tried again. "Thank goodness I found you. Listen, things are weird, just now…"

His voice trailed off as Ron finally turned towards him. His best friend, who he had known since their first year, was hardly recognizable. His hair was neatly combed, and he wore old-fashioned eyeglasses perched atop his nose. His robes were cobalt blue instead of their usual crimson, but most alarming to Harry was the look in his eyes. There was no warmth, merely a cool indifference as he inspected Harry like he was some lab specimen.

"You've been looking for me, Potter?" he asked with studied politeness. "Whatever for?"

"I…" Not Ron, too, he groaned.

"Hello, Harry," the pretty blonde girl said in a familiar voice.

He looked at her more closely, realizing with surprise that it was Luna Lovegood.

"Luna!" he said in astonishment. "It's really you?"

She smiled coyly. "Why wouldn't it be me?"

"It's just…you look so…normal."

And it was true. She wasn't wearing radish earrings or a bottle-cap necklace or any other of her usual eccentric accessories. Her blonde hair was brushed smooth, and the front pieces had been pulled back and fastened with a simple sapphire pin. She was smiling at him, and he couldn't help noticing how her lip gloss made her lips look very soft. It felt strange to admit, but she looked great.

And it was clear that he wasn't the only one that thought so. Half of the boys at the table—including Ron—were clustered around her, practically drooling as she talked and laughed with them.

"Ron, listen." He put his hand on his friend's arm. "I need to talk to you."

"Can't it wait, Potter?" Ron said distractedly. "I'm kind of in the middle of something." He sent a smitten look towards Luna.

Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure what was stranger. Seeing Neville as a Slytherin or seeing Ron ogle at Luna like she was part Veela.

"No, it's urgent," he said, dragging him to a spot away from the table. "Look, Ron, what house are you in?"

Ron looked at him for a moment, then adjusted his glasses. "Is this some sort of riddle? A trick question perhaps…?"

"It's not," Harry said impatiently. "Just answer it."

"Fine. I'm in Ravenclaw," he said, an unmistakable note of pride in his voice.

"No, you're not," Harry said, shaking his shoulders slightly. "Listen, Ron. Think hard. You're in Gryffindor, with me. Don't you remember?"

Ron looked scandalized by the very idea. "Me? In Gryffindor?" He squared his shoulders and scoffed slightly. "I don't know what kind of ruse you're pulling, Potter, but everyone knows that every member of the Weasley family has been in Ravenclaw for the past fourteen generations."

Harry looked at the Ravenclaw table. Sure enough, there were multiple red heads that he recognized with a sinking heart. Percy, Ginny—even Fred and George were all wearing blue robes.

"Now if you'll excuse me, Potter," Ron released himself from Harry's grip. "Unlike you, I am not a Gryffindor, so I don't have time to be playing around. I've got Owls to study for."

Harry let him go, waves of despair and frustration washing over him. It had to be a spell. That was the only explanation he could think of. But even if he knew that, he had no idea which one it was or how to fix it. Hermione would be able to figure out, but with everything upside down, who knew if she would still be the same girl he knew?

He raced over to the Gryffindor table, his heart pounding. He didn't see her, but he had to make sure. He tapped Parvati Patil on the shoulder. "Hey Pavarti, do you know Hermione?"

She looked up at him in annoyance. "First of all, Harry, I'm Padma. I know Pavarti and I are identical twins and all, but since we're wearing different colors—and have been for the past five years—you have no excuse. And yes, of course I know Hermione. She's my dormmate, you know that."

"So, she's in Gryffindor, then?" he asked eagerly.

It was clear from her face that she was thinking he had gone mad. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"I'm great!" he cried over his shoulder as he ran from the room. Everything was going to be ok. Hermione would definitely know what to do. Since she wasn't in the Great Hall, there was only one other place she would be.

It looked like he was going to be taking a trip to the library.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He was in such a rush that he ran headlong into another person as he was turning out the door. Harry managed to stay on his feet, but the other boy wasn't so lucky. He fell down ungracefully, sending all of the potted plants he had been carrying shattering to the ground.

Harry immediately bent down and started to help pick up the mess. "I'm so sorr—" His apology died on his lips as he recognized who it was. His eyes narrowed automatically. "Malfoy."

"Hi, Harry!" Malfoy smiled at him. Not a smirk, but a genuine smile. "Sorry for bumping into you. I really am such a klutz."

Harry couldn't have been more stunned if Malfoy had pulled out his wand and stupefied him. Draco Malfoy—the biggest git in all of Slytherin—was talking to him like a friend and wearing yellow robes. Hufflepuff robes.

"Malfoy why are you wearing—you know what, never mind," he said in exasperation.

"Ow!" Malfoy cried as a shard from a clay pot sliced his finger.

"Let me see it, Draco," a Hufflepuff girl—who he recognized as Pansy Parkinson—knelt down beside him. "I keep telling you to be careful," she said as she gently wrapped his finger with her handkerchief.

"Yeah, Draco," Crabbe joked lightly, "we're all getting tired of going to the infirmary with you, and I know Madam Pomfrey is getting tired of healing you."

"I know," Malfoy whimpered. "But I can't help it."

Harry watched this whole exchange with a sort of morbid fascination. It wasn't just Malfoy—the entire Slytherin gang had turned into a bunch of Hufflepuffs who actually seemed…nice?

Harry shuddered. What had the world had come to? He had to get to the library, and fast. He started to back away, when Malfoy called after him. "I'll see you in Herbology, Harry!"

"Uh…yeah, see you," Harry said awkwardly.

He arrived at the library without further incident and immediately started combing the aisles for Hermione. After several minutes of searching, he finally accepted that she wasn't there. He leaned against a bookshelf in frustration. He had no idea where to look next. Hogwarts was so huge, she could be anywhere.

"Excuse me."

Harry looked up to see Fred and George standing in front of him.

"You're blocking one of the books we need," they said in perfect unison.

Harry smiled weakly. At least that hadn't changed, even though their words were completely alien. He had never seen Fred and George so much as open a book before, let alone study. But seeing them gave him an idea.

He dashed up to his room and started digging frantically through his chest. Finally, he found it. The Marauder's Map. He pored over the piece of parchment until he spotted Hermione's name in the greenhouse.

But by the time he made it there, Herbology class was beginning, and Hermione's plot of soil was on the opposite side of the room. He would have to wait until they were finished.

He looked around at the other students. It was a mixed class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, although most of the Hufflepuffs were actually Slytherins. He locked eyes with Malfoy for a second, who smiled brightly at him. Harry tensed and looked away. He didn't think that he would ever be able to get used to that.

He noticed that Professor Sprout was absent, and was about to ask where she was, when Snape swept into the room. Harry was torn between screaming in horror and laughing out loud at the sight of him. Snape's usual black robes were gone—replaced by a hideous bright yellow garment. Snape had always reminded him of a bat, but now he looked more like a giant banana.

"Hello, class," he said. "Today we will be working with Fanged Geraniums, so be sure to put on your dragon hide gloves, please."

"He's our Herbology professor?" Harry asked Parvati—or rather, Padma, he corrected himself. "Then who teaches Potions?"

She looked at him strangely. "That's Professor Hagrid, of course."

"Hagrid? Then who teaches—?" He shook his head in defeat. "Actually, I don't think I want to know."

Despite his bizarre outfit, Harry had to admit that he preferred this version of Snape. Harry was so distracted that he ended up potting his plant upside down. He fully expected Snape to shame him in front of the whole class, but he simply helped him fix it and reminded him to pay attention next time, so he didn't hurt himself.

At last they were dismissed, and he followed Hermione out of the greenhouse. "Hey," he called after her. "Hermione, wait. I need your help."

She turned around and held out her hand expectantly.

He stared at her in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Favors don't come free, Potter. Now pay up."

Harry's heart sunk like a stone. This was not the Hermione he knew. But he dug into his pocket anyway and pulled out some change.

She snatched it from him and stuffed it into her robe. "So?" She crossed her arms and leaned casually against a tree. "How can I help the great Harry Potter? I've got dung bombs, fanged frisbees, trick wands, self-writing quills…you name it."

He gaped at her. "What? No, it's nothing like that. I just…do you know of any spells that could make things…weird? Like turn everything upside down?"

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. "You're asking me this?"

"Well, yeah, I mean you're the top student in our grade."

She broke into raucous laughter. "Is that supposed to be flattery, or some cruel joke, Potter? Everyone knows I'm the worst student in our class. Heck, I barely even show up unless I feel like it."

Harry clenched his fists. He wouldn't believe it. The Hermione he knew had to be in there somewhere. "Then, was there anything in Hogwarts: A History that you can think of that might help? Anything at all?"

Hermione snorted. "Hogwarts: A History? I've never read that in my life. Sorry Potter, but it doesn't look like I can help you and I've got places to be."

Harry watched in disbelief as she strolled away. Even Hermione had been affected by whatever was going on. Since it had come to this, there was only other person he could think of who could help him.

By the time Harry made it to the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office, he was completely out of breath. "Lemon drops," he gasped, not wanting to think about what he would do if the password had changed along with everything else.

But miraculously, the staircase revealed itself. He climbed the rest of the way to Dumbledore's office and knocked urgently.

"Come in," a muffled voice said through the door.

Harry stepped inside with relief, but almost drew his wand at the sight of the imposter sitting at the headmaster's desk.

"Ah, welcome Harry," the person smiled. "Please come and sit."

Harry walked forward cautiously. This person certainly looked like Dumbledore. He had the same twinkling blue eyes, the same crooked nose, the same wizened features. But his beard was gone. There wasn't even stubble; his chin was perfectly smooth.

"Professor Dumbledore, what happened to your beard?"

"My beard? Whatever do you mean, Harry?"

"I mean, you used to have—" Harry touched his own chin. "You used to have a beard."

Professor Dumbledore looked at him in confusion. "Why would I have a beard, Harry? I'm a woman."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "What…? No." He shook his head frantically. "You're a man. You're Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, sir. Please try and remember."

The headmaster drew himself up to his full height, his usually amiable blue eyes flashing with fury. "I don't know what type of tasteless joke you're pulling Mr. Potter, but that is Headmistress Alba Dumbledore, to you. I will see that you have detention for your blatant disrespect."

This could not be happening. Harry fled from the room as Headmaster/mistress Dumbledore chased after him, calling his name angrily. "Harry…Harry…Harry!"

His eyes flew open. It was dark, but he could feel someone's hand on his arm. As his senses came back, he realized that he was in bed.

"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked in a whisper. "It looked like you were having a nightmare."

Harry sagged into his mattress with relief. "Yeah," he muttered. "It was nightmare, all right."

"Was it Voldemort's mind again?" his friend asked in concern.

"No." Harry shuddered as he recalled everything he had just seen. "It was worse. Much, much worse."

Author's Note: And that's the end! I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you had fun reading it as well. Please leave a review to let me know what you think!