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Chapter One: A Misconception

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The year: beginning of fourth year.

The setting: Potions class.

The scene: Harry Potter ground dried goat bladders with his mortar and pestle, taking care to use exactly forty-three right hand twists or else he would never have hopes of graduating this school within his lifetime without learning the bare minimum about the sacred and subtle art of potions. God, his inner voice was starting to sound like Snape. Maybe it was time to end it all before he stopped washing his hair and brushing his teeth.

As Harry eyed Neville's roiling cauldron a mere table away, contemplating what would happen if he downed the vile-looking brew in one go, two very un-ground goat bladders flew across the classroom. These landed in his cauldron with a pair of plonks and ominous hisses.

'Excellent form, sir,' Gregory Goyle said to a smirking Draco Malfoy. 'Right in the centre both times. Your hand-eye coordination is stunningly superb.'

'Of course it is, you gibbering buffoon.'

'As you say, my glorious and impeccably-dressed master,' Goyle said solemnly before returning to his book on advanced physics. Muggles, filthy as they were, did have some ingenious ideas - and Malfoy didn't care what he read so long as he didn't discuss it with him. Honestly, the ideas contained within these pages could positively revolutionise Time-Turners. He briefly allowed himself to envision travelling back to the night of his "friend's" conception and creating an untimely disturbance on the grounds of Malfoy Manor ...

'Stir your blasted potion, Greg. Snape's coming this way.'

Goyle sighed and marked his place in his book. Potions were nothing compared with mastering the infinity of the universe, but he supposed he would have to make do until he finally graduated and was free of the dangerous and outdated institution British wizards dared call a school. 'Yes, sir.'

At that moment, Harry realised he had ground the goat bladders forty-three times. More or less. Maybe. This was close enough.

He scooped a measure and dropped it into his cauldron. Now for the clockwise, anti-clockwise, clockwise turns ... Glancing to his textbook, he saw that the potion should have been 'the colour of eels under the new moon', whatever that meant - dark probably. The substance in his cauldron was bubblegum pink. He held back a groan.

He quickly proceeded to the next step, all too aware of Snape's nearing footfalls. Maybe the addition of shattered chicken eggs would darken up the liquid.

Odd red spots appeared in the brew.

Okay, if not that, then the step that involved dropping in a rabbit's foot. Hope died as the potion grew to a lovely shade of puce. More startling was the way it bubbled and frothed. The liquid surged out of the cauldron with a tremendous boom. Harry didn't have time to scream.

~o~

He woke on the floor very groggy and very fat.

Or at least his stomach was. Looking up, he saw that Snape was staring down at him with - horror of horrors - concern. And amusement. Because Snape was, at heart, an unrepentant knob. The concern was quickly covered by his usual caustic derision, of course.

'Mr Potter,' he said, 'it seems that you are in the family way.'

There was a volley of laughter. Harry could even hear Ron and Hermione trying to smother their chuckles. What was so funny? Family way? What did that even ... Wait. Oh God. No.

'W-What. No. It can't ... that isn't possible.'

A thin, nasty smile broke open Snape's lips. His dour voice continued ringing off the walls of the dungeon classroom. An amazing feat considering he hardly ever raised his voice. 'No. It isn't possible. This is likely just some abdominal swelling caused by whatever travesty you were brewing.'

Harry wasn't pregnant. The bell end was just winding him up. Thank God, uh, Merlin. As the young wizard tried to sit up, he groaned and pressed a hand to his stomach. There was an odd fluttering near his navel.

'Don't move, Potter,' Snape said. His eyes were black and fierce, wand raised over the student. 'I need to perform some diagnostic spells.'

'Why?'

'Because despite being relatively certain that this is nothing more than the culmination of your clumsy hand and lack of reading comprehension, I've never seen this sort of reaction before with this potion. Any wizard worth his weight in Galleons doesn't just move someone around after an undocumented side effect crops up.'

That did not sound good. If the greasy git was at a loss, then something had gone terribly wrong. There was something more that he didn't seem to be saying.

He was probably just biting back the worst of his comments.

With a sneer and a casual flick of his wrist, Snape's wand began to move. The short jabs grew more complex. Lights appeared in the air, forming symbols. Some looked like runes. Others were unrecognisable.

Harry couldn't read any of them. He nearly moved his head to ask Hermione if she knew, but a wave of nausea blasted through him. Several minutes were spent trying not to vomit all over himself.

Worry flickered across Snape's face, more troubling than the first time he showed it because this didn't go away.

'W-what is it, professor?' Harry said, utterly forgetting his usual rudeness toward the man. His voice sounded almost foreign to him without it.

Snape ignored the question. 'Granger, retrieve Madam Pomfrey. Now. Weasley, fetch the Headmaster. Both of you tell them that an Event That Will Never Ever Occur in My Lifetime or Any One Else's has happened.' He stared at both the students in turn. 'Those words exactly. Understand?'

Hermione and Ron nodded before they each rushed from the classroom.

'The rest of you, out into the corridor. Go.'

No one argued.

'Except you, Malfoy.'

The blond-haired boy stopped, as did his lackeys.

'I didn't ask for the rest of the dream team. Leave. Shut the door behind you, Goyle.' When that was done, the professor quickly cast several spells over Harry.

'What are those?' the boy said.

'Shut up. I must concentrate.' Snape looked to Malfoy. 'Place all the potions in stasis. Quietly.'

Malfoy did so with a sullen look firmly in place.

Something moved in Harry's swollen stomach; whatever it was pressed against his stretched robes. He propped himself up on his elbows. Horrific pain struck him hard enough to make his breath catch. 'What's happening? W-what's wrong with me?'

'You're pregnant.'

Malfoy nearly choked to death laughing. If only he would.

'You're the father, Mr Malfoy. Congratulations,' Snape said as if announcing a painful verdict.

It was, really. The students stopped shrieking in outrage once a few stinging spells were sent their way.

'How can this happen?' Malfoy said. His volume level was a touch under a banshee's wail and a hair over bloody murder.

The professor looked thoughtful. Casting a few other spells - these ones seemed to lift the pain from Harry entirely - he said, 'Likely it was due to you tossing those goat bladders into Potter's cauldron.'

'Er, you saw that?'

'And you didn't stop it!?' Harry said.

A muscle twitched in Snape's cheek. It looked as if he was holding back a smile. 'What, you don't believe pranks build character?'

'This is a bit far for a prank, wouldn't you say?'

'Judging by the spilled powder on the desk, I would say your over-ground bladders also played a part, Potter.' Looking to Malfoy, he added, 'Handling the bladders without wearing your gloves was stupidity beyond the usual levels. The introduction of foreign skin cells to such a potion ... yes, that could have done it in combination with the over-grinding ... the velocity of the throw as well ...' Snape lapsed into mumbling.

That was all Harry needed to hear, however. He twisted his head so he could face Malfoy, his green eyes flashing. 'You did this to me!'

The other boy turned as pale as his hair was. He was an aristocratic caricature of fear. 'It was an accident! I didn't mean for it to happen.' As he stuttered along, he slowly backed toward the door. He nearly tripped over a dozen desks on the way. 'I was just having fun. That's all, I swear. I didn't know that it would turn into ... this.'

'This is all your FAULT!' Harry tried getting up again. His middle protested. Everything felt as if it was shredding inside, even through the spells Snape had cast.

'It was an accident.'

'Oh, so what, you accidentally turned me into a bloated mess? You wanted this to happen.'

Malfoy's back hit the wall. 'I didn't know. I didn't know it would become this. I thought it was just all good fun.'

Snape shook his head. This was getting out of hand, quickly, and in a situation that involved male pregnancy and an instantly formed baby, that was saying a lot. He summoned a pillow and tucked it under Harry's head. 'Don't move, Potter. Please.'

'Why are you being so nice to me?' the boy said in a suspicious tone.

The Potions master didn't have a nice bone in his body. It was impossible. Just like a man becoming pregn -

Damn it.

'Bloody hell, something is wrong, isn't it?' Harry said. 'Tell me what it is, Sn - professor. Tell me. Am I going to die?'

Snape said nothing for once.

That confirmed it. Dread settled over Harry. A bit of relief mixed in there as well. There would finally be time enough to rest. 'Huh. I really am going to die. Well.' He looked to Malfoy. 'If it's a girl, name it after my mother. If it's a boy ... I've always liked the name Todd.'

'Todd?' both Malfoy and Snape said at once.

'Also, I name my godfather Sirius as guardian. My child ...' Harry grimaced as something pinched near his navel. '... or children will inherit whatever I have.' He stared levelly at Malfoy and mustered all the loathing he could manage. 'You're not getting a split Sickle of my fortune, you pointy-faced inbred bastard.' With pain in his voice, he added, 'You're my witness to that, Snape. I can't believe I'm saying this but ... I'm trusting you, understand? It's for lack of other options, so don't think this means that I'm not going out believing you're a slimy berk with a hidden agenda. You're still worth one and half of Malfoy.'

The professor nodded. Pretending not to notice the perplexed look Malfoy gave him, he said, 'I will uphold your last wishes, Mr Potter.'

With that, Harry Potter croaked on the spot because men without wombs can't give birth.

~o~

Somewhere in the British Isle, a malformed snake-snouted mockery of a baby calling itself Voldemort cackled in delight as he felt his enemy's presence fade from his mind. Across the room, Peter Pettigrew wet himself in terror.