For a young wizard who had grown up in a small cupboard under some stairs and surrounded by people who found joy in making him miserable, Hogwarts was a dream come true. But the class that was held deep in the gloomy dungeons was the one thing that made Hogwarts less of a haven and more of a hell, and today in particular was shaping up to be an even worse class than usual.
Sweat beaded on his scarred forehead as Harry James Potter frantically stirred his cauldron with one hand, stretching out his other in an attempt to grab his powdered boomslang skin. It was just out of his reach, and as he momentarily took his eyes off of his cauldron to to focus on grabbing the powder, a bit of liquid slopped out, narrowly missing his hand. Harry jerked away as the desktop sizzled, glaring at the offending cauldron and muttering a long string of colorful swears that he'd learned from Ron as Snape stalked by.
"Potter! 10 points from Gryffindor, watch your mouth," he sneered then turned to peer at Harry's potion, a difficult feat due to the smoke the wooden desktop gave off as the liquid boiled over the cauldron's lip.
The greasy professor's sneer widened into a malicious smirk.
"Your potion is ruined Potter. It's supposed to be green, not orange; the dittany should have been added ten minutes ago. Perhaps if you had listened to my lecture, you would have understood the time sensitivity of this potion."
Perhaps next time I'll see how far I can shove my wand up your arse. Leave it to the most full of shite professor since Lockhart to assign a NEWT-level potion on the first day back.
Before Harry could attempt to fix the smouldering mess dripping onto the floor, Snape had flicked his wand and it vanished.
"You may return your remaining ingredients while the rest of the class finishes up. You will receive a 'D' on today's assignment. Be grateful that it isn't a 'T'." And with that, Snape swept off to bully Neville, whose potion was looking only slightly better than Harry's.
Harry scowled and gathered his supplies, continuing his constant stream of curses at the greasy git and, upon catching sight of his rival's smirk, Malfoy as well. He was so lost in his idle schemes of slipping them poison that he neglected to watch where he was going and his foot caught on the leg of a desk displaying a variety of potions, causing hundreds of crystal vials to crash down onto him.
Harry cried out in as his skin was sliced by the tiny shards and Snape swooped over, brandishing his wand and muttering an incantation that cleared away the glass and left a potion-soaked Harry sprawled on the floor. He groaned and began to sit back up only to collapse again, muscles seizing violently as skin bubbled.
Ron and Hermione started forwards in terror but were jerked back by Snape, to narrowly avoid a puddle of the spilled concoctions that had caused such a violent reaction in their best mate.
"There's nothing we can do to help him without being certain that it will not cause until it's over and Madam Pomfrey arrives."
The professor quickly sent a patronus to the healer, though it moved too quickly for any of the students to make out its form, and a grim silence broken only by Harry's pained moans and Hermione's sobs descended upon the still room.
After what Ron would later swear was more than an hour, Harry's twitching finally stopped and the two friends quickly broke away from Snape to pull him to his feet. As they did, the class let out a collective gasp and Ron leapt back as if burned.
Sitting in Harry's place, positively swallowed by his robes, was a beautiful young woman. She had striking emerald eyes, pearly pink lips, and long, untamed black hair. But what caught the class's attention was the lightning-shaped scar on her forehead that came into view as she ran a hand through her bangs. She straightened the round glasses that hung askew off of her fine features and surveyed the shocked faces around her, scowling.
"What's -" she cut off abruptly, looking for all the world like she was surprised by the sound of her own voice.
Hermione took the opportunity to interrupt.
"H-Harry? Is that you?" The mystery girl rolled her eyes; Hermione was immediately convinced.
"Of course it's me. What's wrong with my voice? Why-" again, Harry stopped mid-sentence as he, or rather, she, stared down in horror at the breasts that strained against the confines of her otherwise loose shirt. "Bloody hell!" she whirled to face Snape, voice strangled, "You can fix this, right? I mean, I can't just stay a girl forever. This has probably happened before, right? I'm sure you can just whip me up an antidote, right? Right?"
Hermione put a hesitant arm around her hysterical friend and glared at Snape as his expression shifted from one of concern to a smirk matching those of the Slytherins behind him.
"I'm afraid that it will be a bit more difficult than that, Potter. It isn't every day that some fool's clumsy enough to make a mess of these proportions. No, I'll have to owl St. Mungo's and see if they can offer any advice. Granger, Weasley, step away: here comes Madam Pomfrey. Don't look so forlorn Potter, I'm sure that you'll be right back to being Hogwarts' favorite little celebrity in no time. As for the rest of you, I want eight feet on why it is important for one to keep his wits about him while making potions. Class dismissed."
Author's Note: So this is the first of the revised chapters, not too different but major changes are coming up!
Much love, Miss Luxe
