The Disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived
\\\\*~{( AN )}~*/ Disclaimer -
They all fully belong to J.K. Rowling and her affiliates.
This first bit in italics is taken directly from third chapter in the fifth book, 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix'.
Updated 2016-03-10: Changed some minor things and fixed some errors. The next chapter is going slow, have written half of it but I gotten stuck, so it may take a while longer.
Updated 2016-06-10: Just fixing up some grammar.
Updated 2018-03-08: Rewrote some parts here and there.
\\\\*~{( AN )}~*/ Chapter 1 - Realizations
I've just been attacked by Dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here. Harry copied these words on to three separate pieces of parchment the moment he reached the desk in his dark bedroom. He addressed the first to Sirius, the second to Ron and the third to Hermione. His owl, Hedwig, was off hunting; her cage stood empty on the desk. Harry paced the bedroom waiting for her to come back, his head pounding, his brain too busy for sleep even though his eyes stung and itched with tiredness. His back ached from hauling Dudley home, and the two lumps on his head where the window and Dudley had hit him were throbbing painfully. Up and down he paced, consumed with anger and frustration, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists, casting angry looks out at the empty, star-strewn sky every time he passed the window. Dementors sent to get him, Mrs. Figg and Mundungus Fletcher tailing him in secret, then suspension from Hogwarts and a hearing at the Ministry of Magic - and still no one was telling him what was going on. And what, what, had that Howler been about? Whose voice had echoed so horribly, so menacingly, through the kitchen? Why was he still trapped here without information? Why was everyone treating him like some naughty kid? Don't do any more magic, stay in the house . . . He kicked his school trunk as he passed it, but far from relieving his anger he felt worse, as he now had a sharp pain in his toe to deal with in addition to the pain in the rest of his body Just as he limped past the window, Hedwig soared through it with a soft rustle of wings like a small ghost. 'About time!' Harry snarled, as she landed lightly on top of her cage. 'You can put that down, I've got work for you!' Hedwig's large, round, amber eyes gazed at him reproachfully over the dead frog clamped in her beak. 'Come here,' said Harry, picking up the three small rolls of parchment and a leather thong and tying the scrolls to her scaly leg. Take these straight to Sirius, Ron and Hermione and don't come back here without good long replies. Keep pecking them till they've written decent-length answers if you've got to. Understand?' Hedwig gave a muffled hooting noise, her beak still full of frog. 'Get going, then,' said Harry. She took off immediately. The moment she'd gone, Harry threw himself down on his bed without undressing and stared at the dark ceiling. In addition to every other miserable feeling, he now felt guilty that he'd been irritable with Hedwig; she was the only friend he had at number four, Privet Drive But he'd make it up to her when she came back with the answers from Sirius, Ron and Hermione. They were bound to write back quickly; they couldn't possibly ignore a Dementor attack. He'd probably wake up tomorrow to three fat letters full of sympathy and plans for his immediate removal to The Burrow. And with that comforting idea, sleep rolled over him, stifling all further thought. But Hedwig didn't return next morning. Harry spent the day in his bedroom, leaving it only to go to the bathroom. Three times that day Aunt Petunia shoved food into his room through the cat-flap Uncle Vernon had installed three summers ago. Every time Harry heard her approaching he tried to question her about the Howler, but he might as well have interrogated the doorknob for all the answers he got. Otherwise, the Dursleys kept well clear of his bedroom. Harry couldn't see the point of forcing his company on them; another row would achieve nothing except perhaps make him so angry he'd perform more illegal magic. So it went on for three whole days. Harry was alternately filled with restless energy that made him unable to settle to anything, during which time he paced his bedroom, furious at the whole lot of them for leaving him to stew in this mess; and with a lethargy so complete that he could lie on his bed for an hour at a time, staring dazedly into space, aching with dread at the thought of the Ministry hearing. What if they ruled against him? What if he was expelled and his wand was snapped in half? What would he do, where would he go? He could not return to living full-time with the Dursleys, not now he knew the other world, the one to which he really belonged. Might he be able to move into Sirius's house, as Sirius had suggested a year ago, before he had been forced to flee from the Ministry? Would Harry be allowed to live there alone, given that he was still underage? Or would the matter of where he went next be decided for him? Had his breach of the International Statute of Secrecy been severe enough to land him in a cell in Azkaban? Whenever this thought occurred, Harry invariably slid off his bed and began pacing again.
On the third night after Hedwig's departure Harry had decided it was time for to disappear, since no one seemed to care him, so why should he care about them. He started pack all his meagre possessions into his trunk. He then put his invisibility cloak, and straddled his broom, as he had planned fly out the window. He hoped by doing this under cover of the night, it would be enough shake off any spies Dumbeldore had left watching him. And as he could neither floo nor apparate, nor did he know how create a portkey, so all that was really left to him was his broom.
Harry had spent a lot of time since Hedwig left thinking and reflecting on his life so far, and on his relations with the people around him. And after much afterthought, he had come to quite a shocking, at least to him, conclusion. As Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, he really didn't have any future. As earth shaking as that revelation was for him, it did make a great deal of sense for a lot of stuff, at least now that thought about it logically.
In retrospect many of the decisions of people around, especially the Headmaster's, had become suspect or made little or no sense, at least were his well being were considered. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like things were placed in such a way that even if by a small chance did survive Voldemort, he would still have no freedom.
Either way, he still had way too many bad memories of being Harry Potter in general. The boy who was always being stared at for being a freak. Or the Boy-Who-Lived in a cupboard under the stairs of his relatives home for ten years, until he went to Hogwarts and was stared at like some kind of side show. Or the Boy-Who-Was-Accused by most of the school because he can with speak snake and commanded one to not harm another student. Not to mention the tournament last year.
They treated him like the greatest thing since Merlin one moment, while next he was treated like the greatest villain since Morgana. But the worst thing was, when they had been proven wrong, they neither acknowledge it or even apologised. Instead they just went back to how things were before, as if nothing had happened, or as if he had no right to an apology. The really sad thing was that, Harry could, without a problem, see them doing it again and again.
Then there was Dumbeldore, who had supposedly left him with his relatives for his own protection. Apparently the wizened old wizard had done so that Harry wouldn't be corrupted by fame. Instead he grew up alone, hated, beaten and starved. And he really had no reason to trust the magical world at large either. That along with many other thing was the reason why, Harry Potter, the-Boy-Lived, had to disappear. He didn't know how, or what he would do after that, as he had never really thought of the future like this before. But one thing Harry was absolutely certain about, was that he didn't plan on being a puppet or a pawn to anyone, nor would he be anyone's martyr or sacrifice. Although for any of that to become possible, he first needed to become stronger and more powerful, and for that first and foremost the boy named Harry Potter would need to die.
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As Harry stood before Leaky Cauldron a big yawn escaped from his mouth, as he had yet slept tonight, so he was quite tired. He had flown for several hours now, he landed in an abandoned back-ally in London, pulling off his cloak having decided to walk the rest of the way to the Leaky Cauldron. While on the flight he had come with a plan, it was a brilliant one too, at least so he thought it was. But it would only work if people saw him entering the Cauldron, and later walking down the Alley. Although he knew he would have would little to time spare before Dumbeldore would found out. When that happened the Headmaster would probably send someone to bring him back to his relatives. Harry sure hoped he would have enough time to enact his plan.
The inside the pub was dark and shabby, with a bar and a number of tables in the shadows of the corners with few people scattered here and there. Harry walked up to the bar talked with Tom, asking how much was needed to rent a room. He was an old quite balding man, resembling a toothless gummy walnut. He was was the landlord, innkeeper, and barman of the pub. Harry proceeded to hand over the needed amount, he had even paid extra to have someone sent up and wake him early next morning.
The next day after having traditional full English breakfast, consisting of tea, fryups and buttered toast. Harry then walked around Diagon Alley for while to let people know he was there. He looked at wand holsters at Ollivander's, browsed through a couple books at Flourish & Blotts, looked through the merchandise at the Apothecary, bought some owl treats to Hedwig from Eeylops Owl Emporium. After a short stop for some refreshments at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour,
Harry was now on his way to Gringotts Wizarding Bank, to initiate the next phase in his plan.
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Walking up to an unoccupied teller Harry waited until the goblin finished what he was writing and looked up.
"Hello, I wish to speak with the Head Manager for the Potter Account," Harry asked politely.
"Certainly Mr. Potter," The goblin replied as he signalled for a goblin.
A younger goblin arrived, one that looked familiar to Harry. The reason for this was obvious once the goblin teller spoke.
"Griphook, Mr. Potter wishes to see the Head Manager for the Potter account. Please escort him accordingly," The goblin teller instructed the young goblin.
Nodding, Griphook turned to Harry. "If you would follow me please."
After a short journey Griphook led him into the room.
"Mr Potter to see you, Goldbrick."
"Thank you Griphook. It is a pleasure to meet again Mr Potter. You have grown considerably since our last meeting."
"Thank you Goldbrick. I wish I had the pleasure of remembering our previous meeting but I assume it occurred while my parents were still alive."
"Indeed. Your father had brought you with him to discuss some business and set up your trust vault. I trust that vault has been acceptable?" The goblin gave a small smile.
"It has been more that acceptable. Now however I wish to learn more about the Potter account as a whole, was wondering if parents left a will. I was also wondering if could help with little request of mine."
"Your parents' will was frozen, in a term, by your magical guardian. He did not wish for it to be read until you were of age. And I have been sending statements to your magical guardian since your parent's untimely demise. Has he not been passing them on to you"
"Who is my magical guardian?" Harry asked. "And no, he has not. Although he would probably have a suitable explanation for why not."
"Albus Dumbeldore took over the job as your magical guardian after your godfather was arrested," Goldbrick said. "And what is this request you want help with."
"That was actually news for me, I may have to change some of my plans," Harry looked angry. "But that is for later, first I want to change the locks on all my vaults, then I want your help in drafting a will for me. I also want your help with publicly killing Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. And if possible I want it to look like it was Death Eaters who did it."
"Ah. I see," the goblin chuckled. "You decided you would be better off without all of the staring. "
"Exactly," Harry said with a nod of agreement. "I have had enough, and my relatives are not the type of people a sane man would give custody of a magical kid."
"I also want it untraceable, no paper trail. Also this is to be kept completely confidential and I shall make it well worth your time as manager of my accounts."
"I completely understand, Mr. Potter," Goldbrick nodded in approval. "When an where would you like this to happen?
"If I get chose it would in the middle of Diagon Alley, while I'm on way back to Leaky Cauldron," Harry said thoughtfully.
"That could arranged," Goldbrick said with a grin. "But first lets look over your affairs and create your will."
\\\\*~{(I)}~*/
It was far past noon when Harry Potter was seen leaving Gringotts, and strolling down Diagon Alley window shopping here and there. Then all of suddenly several black robed figures wearing mask appeared, and started to throw curses at him. While he seemed had been quite surprised, Harry did managed to raise a shield in time, but it only managed to stop the first few curses before it then shattered. Although it did seem to buy him enough time to start fight back.
Smoke, dust and explosions filled the air as more and more, spells and curses flew around.
As the echoes of the various blasts died down, and the all the dust and smoke around the battlers had settled. One of the robed attackers then began muttering something, pointing their wand at the sky. A colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue, then appeared. They watched, as it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke high about the Alley, as the robed figures disappeared with a crack.
When they were gone the bystanders looked towards the centre. There was torn clothes, lots of blood and unrecognisable pieces of flesh and after a few seconds the last piece of the horrible still life that would forever be etched in the minds of the Wizarding world, added itself when something landed on top of the small pile. The burnt and broken pieces of a holly wand with a Phoenix feather core.
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At same time the everyone in the Diagon Alley looked in shock at remains of one their heroes. Harry currently having medical check up as his scar had flared up in pain once again. What they had found out was most disturbing, a piece of the dark lords soul was latched behind his scar. But before the goblins could remove it, Harry asked if it possibly to absorb it and gain the knowledge that the piece held.
Along conversation was then in a language he never heard before, in back of his mind he wondered if this was the goblins own language.
"There is a potion, that may work," Goldbrick said hesitantly. "But I wouldn't recommend it. It's an unstable potion with unpredictable side-effect. So far no one have managed to get through it, without triggering some kind of change."
"So something may change," Harry said with slight tone nervousness in his voice. "I was planning to change my appearance either way. With the Boy-Who-Lived dead I would a new face in any case. Hopefully my is the thing that changes then"
"Just so you know the not all side-effect have been purely physical," Goldbrick continued. "Some of the worst side-effects that have been document have purely mental, or a mixture of both."
Harry gulped a little, as felt his determination waver a bit.
"But it maybe you even worse for you, since the potion will free the trapped soul, and it will be up you to absorb it. And I warn should if we suspect you have lost battle and dark one gained control of your body, you will be eliminated without mercy. So if you are prepared and really want too do it, I won't stop you. Just remember you have been warned. "
"I understand," Harry said solemnly. "Now lets do this before I completely lose my nerve."
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After once again warning him and making sure this was what he wanted. Goldbrick lead Harry into heavily fortified jail cell. Once healers had been called, and guards stationed both on inside and outside of the cell. Harry was given goblet full of shimmering, simmering, potion. That kept on randomly sending its diamond sparks in all directions.
Harry gulped as look at potion, it anything but inviting, this was he last chance of regret. All he had to tell Goldbrick he had changed his and hand back potion. Gather his courage he emptied the goblet in one sweep.
It was like as if he had drunk lava. It took a moment for the potion a moment to fully establish itself in his body, but when it did it struck with full force. It was easy to see the moment the potion entered Harry's blood stream, as he suddenly started screaming in agony. Harry screamed and screamed as waves of pain tore through his body. His eyes clenched close as he collapsed to the ground. It felt as if his insides were on fire. He thought for a second he may rupture his throat just from the screaming.
Right on cue, as white hot pain once again tore through his body and destroyed his thought processes, all his body's pain receptors where firing into overdrive, and he let out a heart-rending scream. Harry's body began to float in mid-air, and was then suddenly engulfed in a dark energy, that had started emanate from his scar. To everyone watching him, Harry was bathed in a darkness so black and so deep that it seemed to suck the light out of its surroundings, and hid him completely from view.
\\\\*~{(I)}~*/
Harry was lost in a sea of pain, unaware of the outside world. Inside Harry's head a very tricky conflict was waged. The potion had triggered off nothing less than a full-on war between Harry's own soul, and the fragment accidentally emplaced by Riddle inside of him. Released from its usual bonds by the potion, the dark lord's soul which was finally free, wanted to destroy his native one and take his body for its own.
If the blood magic of his mother's sacrifice had been functioning properly, a victory by Voldemort's soul fragment would have been impossible. As it was, however, that sheltering protection had been so weakened by Petunia's hate that it was only enough to drive off the first few initial assaults, delaying the dark lord's triumph over Lily's child.
The 'initial charge' of Lily's sacrifice had been largely used up in Harry's first year, destroying Quirrel. What was left was enough to flummox the surprise attack by Voldemort's soul and turn it into a protracted struggle. But that was scarcely any guarantee of victory as Harry's mind had to learn to defend itself on no warning, finding itself thrust into battle where it had to fight for it's very survival from behind steadily disintegrating shields.
Harry himself was ill prepared for conflict. Having been maltreated and abused his entire life, he did not have a strong sense of self to rely on. On the other hand, he was not fighting against Tom Riddle's whole soul, only a portion of it, and a small portion at that. Plus, Harry's soul had a home turf advantage, in that this was HIS body, and its magic core responded to HIM!
However, he was hampered seriously enough by other issues that would not have been enough of an advantage. Harry was vastly inexperienced in the field of mental combat, and Voldemort was a pure expert.
But Harry, being stubborn, refused to give in to Voldemort. He refused to let him win. Not without a fight anyway. This resolve showed immediately. As his disintegrating shields firmed up, and he started to counter attack sending multiple spikes of light straight through the dark energy and then curling around to capture it while others started tearing it apart.
As Voldemort's soul fragment dissolved under the attacks by Light energies upon it, the personality of it was utterly vanquished, while the skills and abilities simply went fluid and became absorbed by the victor, in this case Harry, making him, at last, Voldemort's equal in a very magical way.
And, it was through this odd experience that equality was achieved.
The boy had done a substantial amount of growing up, mentally speaking, as part of their conflict. Underdeveloped places in Harry's mind had been a favoured target of the dark lord, as weaker than all others. The only effective counter for those attacks had been to develop those weak points until they were as strong as the others, even if he'd had no other option but to copy the pattern for those developments out of Voldemort's own mind.
Just like an ordinary war takes immature farm boys and turns them rapidly into men, the close and intense nature of the conflict had caused Harry to develop far more rapidly than normal.
His survival had mandated such development. It had not been optional, there had been no room for weakness, and no mercy from his enemy in that fight. There was nothing too dirty for Voldemort to do, no tactic dishonourable if it gave him the slightest advantage. So Harry's mind had been forced to fortify itself in every particular, and now he was, truly, the dark lord's equal.
Harry had his enemy's power, but he had also gained Tom Riddle's memories, recalling people, places and objects unknown to him before. It gave him some insights having seen into the dark lord's character, but also revealed Tom's secrets.
Although, while their skills and abilities were equal, their circumstances in life certainly were not. Voldemort had enacted several dark rituals to empower him to greater than ordinary levels, granting him additional abilities. He also preferred Dark magic over Light, so many of his skills were things that Harry could not ever bring himself to do. His horcruxes were one such advantage, something that Harry wouldn't ever bring himself to duplicate.
However, Voldemort was also presently a wraith without a body.
Harry had a body, which would seem to grant him an advantage. But, as if to compensate for that, there was Voldemort's cadre of followers, and the so-called Light side working so very hard to keep Harry under tight control, effectively imprisoning him.
Aside from followers, the Dark Lord and Harry's circumstances were, while not being identical, almost surprisingly equal. Both had substantial restriction placed on their actions, and neither had access to most of Riddle's powers at the moment. Harry, because he would not use them, and Voldemort because he could not.
It was dawn before Tom Riddle's soul fragment was entirely dissolved, and a white light flooded the room, as the last traces of dark lord's soul fragment disappeared. The light then started to fade rapidly, until a dark haired figure suspended in mid air within the light became visible. The light vanished entirely and the figure collapsed to the ground.
The goblins moved forward quickly to check the figure, casting several diagnostic charms.
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Harry woke with a groan, his voice unrecognisable, his head was throbbing, and he felt exhausted and sweaty. Everything seemed to be spinning. He tried to remember where he was, but it was all a blur. He opened his eyes but then quickly shut them again to block out the bright light shining in his face. He could feel a rough material under him that felt like some kind of rug. Slowly, he opened his eyes again to find the light was gone and was replaced by a rough stone ceiling.
Harry sat up, ignoring the pain in his aching body and looked around. It took him some to recognize where he was, and longer to remember why he was there.
'Must have fainted,' Harry thought looking around.
"How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice unrecognisable
"Not very long, Mr. Potter," one of the goblins replied.
Harry then looked down on his body, still covered in just a thin sheen of sweat from exhaustion, and saw that his already several sizes to big clothes ( as they had been Dudley's old cast-offs ) had fell off his now much smaller frame, leaving him to fully view what changes the potion had done to him.
Seeing how his body was now shaped he initially grabbed at the perky breasts he certainly didn't have before. Eyes widening and what he saw made him turn bright red. Then his face paled and he reached down lower, his eyes widened to comical levels of wide at what he felt. He looked horrified as he saw that 'little Harry' was gone and replaced by something he had only heard about. There was now a patch of mint green pubic hair and what appeared to be a vagina.
"I have a…" Harry said not finishing the sentence.
"A vagina, Mr. Potter," another of the goblin helped him somewhat amused at his reaction. "It's called a vagina."
"I'm a girl?" He whispered, as he looked back at the goblins.
"I'm I afraid so, Mr. Potter," one of the goblins answered.
But the goblin didn't get any further as Harry did the only thing any man would have done in that situation. He fainted.
\\\\*~{(I)}~*/
A gentle fragrance wafted by, filling his nose with its soothing scent. It smelled so familiar, but he found himself unable to discern what it was. Whatever it was, it vaguely reminded him something, but what was it...
A dull, throbbing pain registered, breaking off her train of thought. Slowly opening his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, Harry groggily got up into a sitting position. He was lying in a bed in a room he did not recognize, which should have rang several alarms in his head, but he was oddly unable to bring himself to mind.
'O-oww…' he winced, reaching for his head. 'Huh? Blankets… Where is this…?'
The moment she brought up the question, several scenes flooded into his mind, brutally reminding him of the previous day's events. He remember taking the potion, and the unbelievable pain that had followed. He vaguely remembered the battling a piece of Voldemort for his body. He then waking up, only pass out when had found out he was a girl. Yeah, he become a girl. A GIRL!
Then as pieces were finally starting to fall together another thing hit him. He had faced a teacher possessed by Voldemort, a bloody Basilisk, a hundred Dementors, a dragon, even Voldemort and he had never fainted. But show him a vagina and he fainted. Okay, so maybe it was because it was his vagina but still. As he was too wrapped up in his inner monologue he didn't hear a door open and a goblin entered the room.
"Ah, good you're awake," one goblin said when they saw him. "So how are you feeling today, Mr. Potter? Any aches or pains?"
"Not at the moment, except for a throbbing headache," Harry could hear a unfamiliar voice reply, though it was higher in pitch and sounded feminine, he realised it was coming from him , or should it be her now. Harry winched after that realization. "Where I'm I by the way, this doesn't look like the infirmary."
"My name is Ironfist," one the goblins said. "You are currently in the secure wing in the Gringotts infirmary. And your headache is understandable as all the memories of that the soul fragment had is yours. Everything the dark knew, heard, felt, seen, all of his skill, everything he had up that Halloween is now yours. So a headache was expected."
"Secure wing?" Harry asked confused.
"It's a special part of the infirmary built and warded for containment, and therefore cut off from the rest Gringotts," Ironfist explained. "As we were not sure what consequences of releasing the dark ones soul would have, we had to some precautions. You will be detained here until I declare healthy of both body and mind. This also to ensure that you're safe both for yourself and for those around you."
"Fully understandable," Harry conceded. "So what now?"
"Now lets start with your physical check up, shall we," Ironfist said. "Follow me."
Harry climbed out of bed, and sat on the edge with his bare feet dangling. He stretched a few more times to get the last kinks out of his bones. Before he hopped down off the bed landing on his feet. It seemed odd being smaller than he was used too. However, it didn't really bother him. He felt fitter than he ever had, and so much stronger. He then followed the goblin to a room where the walls covered by large mirrors. As he was being measured and weighed, he took time to get a really good look at his new self.
While he knew that his body had changed, but now that he saw it, Harry just couldn't help to stare at his new reflection in awestruck disbelief. It was as if someone had taken his basic features and streamlined them, while at same time made them softer and more feminine. There were only just very a faint resemblance left of the boy that he just recently had been.
His body had become much smaller, and now sported a pair of budding lower B-cups which were soft, but firm. His body was lithe and slender, with well proportioned hips and more narrow waist, that still left him with a slightly curvy figure, with long, toned, feminine arms and legs, along with a toned flat stomach. His now tan mocha skin, which had now become impossibly soft and completely smooth, but were also firm and velvety. All scars, wrinkles, blemishes and deformities had disappeared from his body.
His hair was straight and spiky, which now was distinctive mint green in colour, and almost reached his shoulders, with bangs framing his face. His hair had also become also noticeably fuller, and even his his eyelashes grown a bit.
His eyes had gotten bigger, rounder, and his irises had gotten wider, while his pupils gotten more narrow. Their colour had also changed from bright emerald green, to bright, beautiful orange, and they were quite entrancing, if he may say so himself.
His new smaller and lithe form, along with his the exotic and unique features, gave him an almost fae like appearance. He wasn't certain, but even looked younger, but could just be a trick of the eye. Either way, he now looked like he were somewhere around thirteen, or even younger.
"Is it just me or have I somehow gotten younger?" Harry asked, after having studied his reflection for a while.
"You're still biologically fifteen, even if you physically don't look like it," Ironfist answered. "All of your hormones levels unstable, but is to be expected. Since your body just recently changed it's still adjusting to those changes in how it now works."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked with trepidation.
"As you may know, women have a monthly cycle so their hormone levels keep changing," Ironfist replied factually. "Females get hit with this during puberty. You on the other hand, gonna have everything at once. So you're going to have your off days when things get out of your control. But once your hormone levels have settled, your monthly cycles will start, and you will get periods like any other female. You're you aware of the monthly cycles that females have, aren't you?"
Harry just muttered something unintelligible in response, as a deep blush blossomed on his face and half way down his chest.
\\\\*~{(I)}~*/ TBC \\\\*~{( AN )}~*/
So what do you think, good, bad or just plain boring? I dying to know.
I'm just saying this now, I have no idea how long it would Harry to reach London from the Dursleys. Geography was never my strong point, and knowledge regarding the lay of the land in the UK, next to zero. So if someone correct me, be my guest, and go ahead.
Also snatched part of the battle that Harry had with Voldemort's soul, from the fic 'Partially Kissed Hero' by Perfect Lionheart. s/4240771/1/Partially-Kissed-Hero
If it is anything else you wondering, or want to correct, just leave a review.
That's all for now. Till next time.
/ Ryuuohjin
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