Harry groaned, blearily coming to consciousness. There was something wrong, very wrong with his body. Urging his eyes open, he took in his surroundings. Bloody hell, who razed the forest? The fact that he didn't even recognize the forest came to him later. He tried to get up, attempting to move his legs. Shit. What now? He sighed, slowly lifting his head. It felt heavier for some reason, but that was unimportant.

His sight centered on his legs, buried deep into a tree. Could portkeys port you into objects? He tried moving his legs. Nothing. He tried wiggling his toes. No dice. He slowly sat up, reaching for his wand. It wasn't there. -What- His clothes were different. -How- His hair was…red?

Harry jerked fully, breath coming out in gasps, wanting to be anywhere, Anywhere but here!

He blinked.

He looked around, staring at the tree he used to be stuck in.

And he ran, stumbling through the trees and foliage.

It took him a good hour to calm down. And after running a full hour, I'm barely out of breath.

His body felt…strange. Like it wasn't his. He ran his hands through his long red hair, staring.

A musicians hands –not mine- calloused feet –not mine- slim, muscular body –not mine- and he noticed something else.

A bitter laugh escaped his throat, much higher and more feminine than it should have been.

"That's definitely not mine."

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry stared into the stream, at the girl wearing the same confused, pained expression he had. Her red hair hung messily down her back, framing her face. Her figure was slim, barely showing the curves she would grow into. Her stubborn chin and fierce brown eyes stared at him accusingly. Her entire body was toned and muscled, her stance straight; It bespoke of training. She was pretty, but not in the soft, motherly way. He kicked a rock into the stream, shattering the girl into droplets and stopping his train of thought.

He sat down with a sigh. Throughout the tournament, he began to see the Triwizard Cup as an end, a way to stop all the craziness happening to him. How the hell was he supposed to compete with 7th years? It became a goal, a symbol to him. It was a way to prove himself. It was a way to end all the suspicion, all the endless interviews and jealous stares that characterized this year…it…it was rigged. Probably by the same bloody git who snuck him in the tournament in the first place.

Well it made a fair bit of sense. The only problem was why was he in a girl's body? In fact, why send him here in the first place? Now that made no sense. If they wanted him dead they could have killed him in the tasks, and if anything he felt like he had more help than warranted during them. Moody coached him through the first, reminding him about his Firebolt. Without Cedric he would have been clueless during the second task, and even then he still couldn't have completed it without Dobby's help. And wasn't his path was a little too clear during the maze? Well, sitting around never got anything done.

He stood up, looking around. As far as he could see, everything was just a vast expanse of green. Grimacing, he looked up at the tallest trees he had ever seen. Not even the Forbidden Forest had trees this big! Well, whoever lived around here (If anyone did) must be wizards! He vaguely remembered hearing something about most towns being founded near water sources in muggle school. Maybe if he followed the river he would find people he could explain his situation to who knew the way back to Hogwarts. Why does trouble always seem to find me?

XXXXXXXXXXXX

(6 Hours later)

Harry cursed and stumbled, glared balefully at the forest. It was vast, unchanging, and simply maddening! He sighed, slumping against another of the bloody giant trees. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to orient himself. It wasn't as if he was tired. No, this girls body was fit, insanely so. He was beginning to think that she could have been running in the Olympics if she ever wanted to. It was just so different. His entire center of balance was off, and his strides were that of a (admittedly not by much) taller person, which left him stumbling along on too short legs, moving like a drunkard.

He imagined Fred and George, pointing and laughing at him, and felt a pang. What he wouldn't give to be back at Hogwarts right now, even if it meant enduring the one of the twins inane ideas of a prank. Their pranks were annoying, if harmless, and generally ended quickly with a good laugh in the commons.

The situation was beginning to look serious. He had meandered along the river for hours with no sign of anyone other than himself. Harry idly rubbed where his scar used to be. This couldn't be a tournament challenge. Challenges were full of obstacles and riddles, with magic rife in the air. The strangest thing he saw so far was a giant centipede, and it seemed more afraid of him than him of it. In fact, other than its size, it was positively mundane. No sudden bursts of flame, no paralyzing gaze, no talking, just a centipede with a growth spurt.

On a hunch he looked inwards, trying to locate his magic. He found it, still gleaming in the confines of his soul, but there was something else as well, a comforting warmth flowing through his body. It was kind of like magic, but felt more…natural. Connected to reality, not defying it. He decided not to touch that for now, Merlin knew what it could do. Slowly he felt outwards, searching for ambient magic, and felt…nothing.

He jerked in shock.

This couldn't be happening. No matter where you were, there was always some magic, no matter how little or insignificant. He hadn't noticed this before because he was too preoccupied with finding a way out of this blasted place, as well as the differences in his body. Slowly he got up, eying the forest around him with new eyes. Just where am I?

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry stared up, contemplating the stars from his leafy perch. What little he could see through the canopy was completely unfamiliar. Climbing to new branches to get a wider view just confirmed his theory. He cursed Voldemort mentally, as his female voice still gave him pause: for who else could, or would, do this to him? Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground, and let gravity take over. He landed on his back with a sigh. One things for sure, he wasn't on earth anymore. Shivering, he curled in on himself, irritably blowing his red hair from his face and grasping his knees for warmth.

He gave himself a few minutes to absorb the thought that he may never see anyone again, before shaking it off determinedly. No, he would see them again. This was probably part of plot of Voldemorts, the paranoid git. Get rid of the boy who lived (the irony was not lost on him) by sending him to a place no one knew of, in an unrecognizable body, so he could revive himself to take over the wizarding world, or whatever harebrained scheme Dark Lord's normally came up with. There was no way he was abandoning his friends to the mercy of Voldemort. Just remembering what a sliver of his spirit was capable of, the possession of Ginny, unleashing the basilisk, brought a shiver down Harry's spine.

The horrors the world would see if he ever unleashed himself were too horrible to dwell on.

Slowly, regretfully, Harry stretched out, feeling his pent up body warmth released into the air. Despite everything going on in his head, surviving the night was his first priority. Walking slowly, he cast about for available shelter. He decided to walk further away from the stream, as predators would be drawn to the river, if not to drink, then to eat those that did come for the crystalline water. And who knew how big they would be, if the insects were as long as a carriage?

A short while later while slowly walking in the dark, Harry found what he was looking for. A branch high enough that nothing could jump to, yet low enough that he wouldn't be seriously injured if he fell; it was just the right width for him to be able to curl up for some warmth and not fall off. It was suspiciously flat near the trunk, looking for all the world as if someone had took a decided to take a chunk of it off with a straightedge. Not that he was complaining of course. Harry crawled his way up, closed his eyes, and attempted to sleep, the sounds of the nighttime forest echoing eerily in his ears.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry slept fitfully, his thin clothes doing little to ward off the cold night air. He woke with a groan, cracking his eyes open and thinking wistfully of his warm school robes. He got up, stretching as much as he could on the branch. Truthfully, he was a little shocked he hadn't fallen off of the damn thing while he slept. I mean, sure he flew on something much smaller, but he did that consciously, and he tended to sleep fitfully at night. Shrugging, he stretched, working out the kinks in his back from sleeping on hardwood. It was an extremely familiar sensation, bringing up absolutely fond memories of his years in the cupboard. Lips twisting in a wry grin, Harry got up and began to make his way down the tree, cursing as he scraped himself on a low hanging branch.

As he climbed down he began to feel a familiar pressure building near his bowels. Well, that wasn't altogether unexpected. In fact, with how long he had been moving without breaks it was a wonder it hadn't happened sooner. Not to say it wasn't unpleasant, but he had been in this type of situation before, albeit not often. Yawning slightly, he made his way to a convenient bush, intent on getting this over with, just business as usual.

Then he stopped.

And remembered.

This wasn't his body.

In fact, this wasn't even his gender.

Bloody. Freaking. Hell.

XXXXXXXXXXXX