Contrary to popular belief, Harry did not care about his birthday.
How could he anyway? Hermione and Ron were wonderful friends and while he was always grateful for their gifts and words of encouragement, it really was the only thing to remind Harry that he was in fact born on a specific day like everyone else and didn't just pop into existence on his mother's whim.
Besides that, his birthday was like any other day in his Uncle's household. It still brought chores and his cousin's consistent maltreatment. After years of his family not even acknowledging it, how could he ever bother to acknowledge such a seemingly mundane day?
No, Harry's 16th birthday was the last thing on his mind on the night of July 30th. Having finished his housework for the day, Harry settled in his bed with plenty of time to spare. A quidditch book Hermione had given him for Christmas stretched out on his laps as he attempted to lull himself to sleep.
The attempt wasn't in vain as he was out not even a few minutes later.
Today had been a rather stressful day for Harry. The housework had been endless as Aunt Petunia was preparing to host some reading club in the living room. Harry, seeing the opportunity to leave the house for a few hours, cleaned vigorously and made sure he left no corner untouched. That particular choice was proving to be a mistake as his body ached and longed for an extended break.
The real stress had come not 10 minutes later when he finally got around to opening the only letter he had received so far. It was from Dumbledore and simply stated that he would have to stay at the Dursleys until mid-August instead of leaving on his birthday. It also urged him to report any changes that might occur, but Harry couldn't figure out what "changes" Dumbledore could have meant. It wasn't like he had just hit puberty.
None-the-less, Harry kept Dumbledore's strange request at the back of his head as he tried to figure out a way to do his homework without his Uncle knowing. He had planned to do it once he left with Hermione's help, of course, but now he could already feel the exhaustion he was going to have to endure from the late nights he would no doubt have to spend to finish it all.
That's how Harry found himself going to bed earlier than usual (and natural for a teen his age). It was also why he was slightly agitated when he awoke feeling sick down to his stomach at 3 in the morning.
His shoulder length hair felt greasy and stuck to the back of his head like a mosquito. Why his hair was quite a bit longer than when he went to bed, Harry didn't know. Whatever it was, it was making the room spin and giving him a nice headache to boot.
With a groan Harry sat up, aware that he felt weightless and momentarily suspended in the air. The odd feeling only got odder as he stumbled into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror Harry immediately realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. Startled, Harry brought a shaky hand to his eyes.
His eyesight wasn't perfect, the place was still a bit blurry. Still, it was better than when he went to bed. But why?
In his confused daze, Harry wasn't ready for the sudden cramp in his stomach that sent him reeling over the toilet seat. Shivering, Harry cursed the Dursleys in his mind as he quickly started dry-heaving. If he had been given food to eat he probably wouldn't feel like his throat was being torn apart. If he hadn't been overworked and had made better sleeping habits from the start he also wouldn't have gotten sick, Harry scolded himself.
The moment he felt like he was fine enough to stand, Harry reached into the bathroom cupboard to grab a bucket. A sudden rush of fatigue on top of his consistent headache persuaded Harry from going downstairs to get some medicine though. He was most likely delirious and had imagined his long hair and better eyesight, so had wisely decided to head right back to bed and sleep off the worse of his sickness.
Looking back on it now, Harry wished it could have just been the fever or the flu. At least the sicknesses would have saved him from all the pain and drama he would also have to endure in the months to come.
The next morning Harry still didn't need his glasses and his once shoulder-length hair reached up to his waist. Despite those two things and his slightly feminine features, Harry couldn't have said he changed all that much.
Uncle Vernon and Dudley had given him odd looks while Aunt Petunia only seemed a bit wary at the change. Harry didn't really let them decide on if they liked it or not as he made it a habit to stay out of their way for as long as he could so they would just not talk or even think about it. Must have worked as his summer passed on relatively quickly with the same schedule that he had followed before his magic had decided to choose which gender he was for him.
Despite Dumbledore's note, Harry didn't report just what had happened that night. Harry couldn't bring himself to, not so soon after Sirius's death and the way he had trashed the headmaster's office. Call it pride or guilt if you will, but Harry knew he wasn't ready to meet the headmaster just yet. While he was a bit annoyed the man hadn't made an effort to try to talk to him or explain the prophecy that basically said he to would die if he couldn't defeat Voldemort, Harry was also grateful the man had given him time to breathe.
He was supposed to be grieving, getting the shock of Sirius's death out of his head. Pushing the man to the back of his mind and going into autopilot was the worse thing he could have done for his health, but he also couldn't muster enough courage to face the fact that he was the cause of the man's death. He just couldn't face his problems, so he sent them away. Ignored them.
With the school year just around the corner, Harry had made sure to send a letter to Dumbledore telling him that he would like to stay at his uncle's place until the start of the school year. It was the first letter this summer Harry had ever sent to the man, and it was very blunt and straight to the point. Looking back on it, the letter must have been two sentences at most. The request was so strange Dumbledore actually sent a reply the next day asking if Harry was sure it was what he wanted.
A rather short note from Ron was also received a few days after. The boy had no doubt heard that Harry probably wasn't coming over this summer like he always did. The fact that it was by Harry's own request made everyone uneasy. Harry never replied back to either of them.
That's how Harry found himself in front of a wall he was all too familiar with, hair tied up in a ponytail with a sweatshirt he had borrowed from Dudley. It hung off his delicate frame and hid any of the feminine curves Harry could find. The sweatshirt was a light cream color with some logo from some sports team Dudley seemed to like. It was strange that Dudley would allow him to borrow it, but the boy had.
Harry didn't have a jean that fit him, so he simply wore the smallest one he could find which was still a bit big, but bearable with a belt. Pushing his trunk through the wall, Harry was thankful Dumbledore had sent him all his school supplies.
The headmaster had no doubt remembered that the two were supposed to go shopping before the term. Harry doubted the headmaster would have actually gone with him, but he would have sent a member of the order. Harry felt a pang of guilt at inconveniencing the headmaster like that and had made a mental note to pay the man back once he had the chance to go into his vault. Manning up and seeing him once the term started was also on his to-do list. To report what he should have during the summer, his change.
Looking around, Harry realized he had gotten to the station early, which was something he had never managed to do. He had been around the Weasleys for so long rushing to jump on the train seemed almost natural.
Not thirty minutes later, Harry was rushing through the doors to find a compartment, eager to get out of the eyes of a few students who had also made it early. They were staring at him, but it took a while for Harry to realize that it wasn't him being Harry Potter that made them stare, but that he looked new.
Not different, but completely new to Hogwarts. Only the wiser of the bunch bothered to remember that Harry had Hedwig with him, an owl that stuck out like a sore thumb in terms of pets. For students with a more open mind, it was easy to connect the dots. After all, Harry didn't look that different besides the hair and lack of glasses. While farfetched, Harry knew someone would guess right and for once in his life, their opinions made him nervous.
Rushing into a random empty compartment at the back of the train, Harry quickly sat down and rested his head on the window. Just what had happened that night? He didn't feel different, but it's like his instincts had changed. The inner voice in his head seemed to grow more self-conscious? Harry supposed it was bound to happen anyway, but one does not simply develop a fashion sense overnight. That creeped Harry out.
With a sigh, Harry dropped Hedwig's cage on the seat in front of him. She let out an annoyed hoot, but all Harry did was laugh at her misfortune. He couldn't help but take note that he had been isolated for far too long. Besides risking his life asking Dudley for a sweatshirt, it seemed Harry was a bit too focused on staying out of sight and out of mind from everybody in general, not just his family.
With a jolt, Harry tensed up when the door to his compartment slid open and curious brown eyes peeked inside. Joy rushed through Harry as he opened his mouth to greet his friend, but Hermione was much faster.
"I'm sorry, I thought this compartment was empty. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name? I don't think I've seen you around here before. My name is Hermione," Hermione rushed out in a single breath, something that was so typical of her Harry couldn't help but smile, though his eyes showed just how much a seemingly nice question had hurt him. Hermione hadn't recognized him.
Hermione's eyes narrowed as if sensing his emotions, causing Harry to grimace. She always had been able to read him like an open book. Opening the door a bit wider, the girl looked around the compartment with a neutral expression on her face.
Harry could only stare himself as Hedwig captured Hermione's full attention. Her poker face immediately dropped as a look of confusion overtook her features while she alternated between looking at the Harry and his pet. Harry was about to try talking again when Hermione lunged at him. Grabbing his ponytail and tugging it so his head was tilted up to the roof, the girl grabbed his bangs and lifted it. The silence in the compartment was almost defening as his lightning bolt scar sat proudly on his forehead.
"Hermione," Harry whispered, but he never got a chance to explain as the girl swiftly got up and left without another word. Harry didn't miss the look on her face; however, as she walked away.
It wasn't of anger or frustration like he had originally thought based on her reaction, but a face full of disappointment and guilt.