Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe or anything in it.
The Discovery.
A young boy, no a young man, was sitting alone in a dark musty room at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. This room was one he thought he would never step foot into again, but now that his purpose was fulfilled he felt that it was necessary. Being in Sirius'sroom
felt strange without the owner within its boundaries, planning a prank on the twins or laughing about past adventures with those he had lost in the first and secondwars. It was starting to feel like aheavy weight on his chest. It was so
heavy it was at times hard to breath.
One of those times was right now. Taking a deep slow breath in Harry was trying to fight the pain and anger that was rushinginto the forefront of his mind. He knew the actual war was over, but emotionally he was still very much at war. The guiltof
not being able to end it sooner and save so many lives, save the lives of the ones he thought of as family was slowly eating at him. The Weasleys and everyone else are worriedabout him, and heknows that. He justcouldn't bear to face them
after seeing them mourn over Fred and the others. His nightmares didn't help either.
He wanted to see them all, but seeing them was almost too hard. Even when he has tried just leaving the house and entering the wizardingworld peoplewould crowd around him, bombard him and congratulate him on killing Voldemort. He hated that hewas
forced to take another life, but he could see that it was a necessary evil. Hewished that he were a normal person, still a wizard, but able to walk the streets without the fear of being recognized. Thinking about that, Harry made note to look
in theBlack library for ways to disguise your self. Another thought popped in his head to maybeeven look for waysto cope with emotions and past traumas,or something like that.
Sighing Harry took one more look around the room before he got up off the dusty bed and left the room in search for Kreacher as his stomach was urgently telling him to get a move on it.
Later on Harry found himself in the aforementioned library searching for ways to disguise himself and finding silly charms and transfiguration spellsthat were not reliable enough for his liking. That is until hecame upon a passage on metamorphmagusabilities.
Skimming through the general description of the rare ability, Harry was starting to realize a few coincidences. He never needed a hair cut and there was the one time his hair grew back overnight after Petunia butchered it with kitchen scissors.
The text stated that signs of having the ability were: no trimming of the hair was necessary as the person grew up, never getting a sunburn and having what seems like alate puberty.
Harry was beginning to get excited. Reading over the section on testing the possibility of being a metamorphmagus he began to feel tingly all over and felt a stretching and rippling sensation all over his body. Quickly leaving the study, he made his wayto
the bathroom. Reaching the mirror he came to a halt. Staring back at him was ataller andhealthier looking version of himself. He looked like the rest of his former classmates instead of the scrawny and lankyversion of himself. Hisshoulders
were broader and he was more muscular everywhere. Lifting up his shirt he realized he couldn'tcount every rib anymore. Running back to the text, he continued to read the rest of the section. Near the the end he found the reasonwhy it took
so long for this ability to surface. Curses and emotional trauma can cause late development of the skill. Harry was a metamorphmagus.
This brought a brought a smile to his lips, the first in months. He was going to be able to be anyone he wanted to be. He could be a nobody. Harry was happier than he could remember being in a log time and now he could move on to finding ways to copeand
use his new ability.
