Sobs racked Harry's body as he clung to the bedsheets. Ron was above him, dimly visible through the tears. For some reaon he couldn't recall, he was still wearing his glasses; it seemed important, somehow.
At this time of night, the room was silent, but for his groans and struggles. Ron held his hand, tightly, to keep him from running away, and more than once pressed him back down into the bedsheets. Harry bit down on a convenient sheet and wondered when the pain would end.
Curse that Malfoy.
It had started on a regular day; both Slytherin and Gryffindor-who had thought that would be a good idea?-leaving potions at the same time. Somehow, Harry had tripped on his robe and knocked over Draco. After landing in the remains of several smashed ingredients, he scrambled to his feet, just in time to see Draco's hand clear his robes and point something at him. Then it all went black.
He had woken up in the Hospital Wing, none the worse off, but for a craving for pumpkin juice and pickles and a remarkably dry mouth. Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep on two chairs nearby. Madam Pomfrey was standing above his bed, looking grave.
"About time," she said. "You've been asleep for hours." She nodded toward Ron and Hermione. "These two fell asleep quite some time ago."
"What-what's happened to me?" said Harry. His mouth was dry, and his stomach felt funny.
"We're not sure. Apparently, that vial that you broke had a potion based on a certain...fluid that Mr. Malfoy had been mucking about with in class. This, combined with several other potions ingredients and the spell he cast, somehow managed to...alter your body."
Harry's heart shot up to his throat.
"Alter? How?"
"Perhaps you had better see for yourself." She drew back the covers.
Harry suddenly couldn't breathe. He put a shaking hand to his belly to confirm that it was real, that he hadn't been hit with an Engorgement Charm.
"I can't be pregnant," he whispered. "I haven't even finished High School."