A/N: I do not plan to use the M rating (we start with 12-year-old Harry), but it is there just in case I choose to use it in the future.
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. The only thing I own are my characters and the specific order of the words on this page. This applies to every chapter for the remainder of this story.
Chapter 1: The Metamorphmagus
"It bit me!" he said, showing Tom his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief.
Tom, the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron, peered under Harry's handkerchief and laughed, "Ah, a Cornish pixie. Devilish little creatures, aren't they? Love to bite, but otherwise harmless." Harry adjusted his glasses, which never seemed to sit correctly on his face, as Tom reached under the dusty oak bar and pulled out his wand. He made a quick wiggly motion at the row of room numbers painted on the wall behind the liquor shelf and watched expectantly for a change. The peeling gold number 217 glowed an angry red.
"Are you in room 217?" Harry nodded. "There appears to be an infestation in your room. No problem, I'll have it all cleared up by this afternoon."
Harry nodded his thanks and headed over to the brick wall and opened the portal to Diagon Alley. He had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron for the past week. The summer after his first year had been uneventful. Dudley was under the impression that Harry could use magic outside of school. So, whenever Dudley would look threateningly towards Harry, Harry would slowly reach towards his back pocket. Dudley would blanch and run in the opposite direction, cupping the back of his jiggling butt, where Hagrid's pigtail had been surgically removed.
At the beginning of August, the Dursley's dumped Harry outside the Muggle entrance of the Leaky Cauldron with his school trunk and a, "Don't bother coming back until next summer," as they drove down the busy cobblestone street towards the airport for Petunia's dream France vacation.
Harry mindlessly walked down Diagon Alley. It was rather empty, as most were off at work on a Tuesday morning. Walking all the way to the Gringotts, Harry was about to turn around and head back the way he came, when he noticed a small store cramped between Ollivander's Wand Shop and Porter's Authentic Trunks. Unlike the peeling paint of the stores sandwiching it, this store was brightly lit and had a newly painted sign, "Aurora's Eye Emporium." In the glass window was a poster claiming, "We Can Fix Nearly All Nearsighted Problems" in bright purple calligraphy.
Intrigued, Harry entered the shop and took a look around. In contrast to the other shops Harry had visited, it was welcoming. The floors were a light wood and the walls were painted white and covered with moving anatomical images of eyes. The store was one large room with a low partition that separated the back office area where a plump, motherly looking woman sat reading a book from the store front.
The witch looked up and smiled from her bright blue eyes, "Hello dear. Are you here to see about those dreadful glasses?" Harry nodded, immediately put as ease by the motherly presence of the store's patron.
The witch stood up and lead Harry towards an empty desk near the front of the store. "I'm Aurora, certified mediwitch of St. Mungo's Hospital. Now, let me look and try not to blink." She gently removed Harry's glasses and leaned so close to Harry's face that he could practically feel her grey curls on his nose.
Harry tried to keep his eyes open and still, but kept on shifting focus between her left and right eye. Just as he felt that his eyes would shrivel up and fall out of his head if he kept them open any longer, Aurora leaned back and told him to relax.
"So?" asked Harry eagerly, "Can you fix them?"
"Oh yes, Dear. It's no problem at all. Quite frankly, I'm shocked that your parents didn't bring you here earlier. It's a very easy fix," she informed him a matter-of-factly. "It'll be 1 Galleon and 3 Sickles."
"So, is this a hospital? Do you need my Aunt's permission or anything?" Harry asked as he dug out the correct change from his pocket.
"Oh, you're muggle-raised? In the wizarding world, you don't need your parents' permission for this kind of thing once you turn eleven," Aurora explained. "And to answer your other question, no, this is not a hospital or medical facility. Although I am a certified mediwitch, I stopped practicing at the hospital. Back in the 70s, there weren't any magical solutions for curing eye-problems. But, I noticed that the muggles did have eye doctors. So, I went and studied in the muggle world and created magical solutions."
"And wizards were fine with that?" Harry asked, surprised. In his experience, wizarding-folk were no too welcoming to muggle solutions.
Aurora laughed, "No, they weren't," she acknowledged, "But, I was the only person with the solution to their problems. Some embrace my work; others, mostly the other purebloods, don't understand why I would want to learn from muggles. They're just too close-minded," Aurora finished.
She instructed Harry to lean back into the chair, and close his eyes. "Now, you might feel dizzy for a minute, but it should wear off quickly," Aurora warned.
Before Harry could even begin to feel nervous, Aurora took out her wand a preformed a quick spell.
Harry opened his eyes in shock as he felt burning hot and then ice cold. Suddenly, his vision lurched and the world started going in and out of focus, like a camera lens trying to find the correct setting. Then everything stilled.
"Good as new," Aurora said happily, "Now take it easy to-"
Aurora was cut off by a small girl with long black pigtail braids running into the store mid-rant, "That Malfoy boy is so awful! I ought to knock him down, literally. I could do it!"
Harry scoffed. She was barely 5 feet tall. He doubted she could beat an 8-year old, much less a 12-year old.
"Eos, calm down and act your age! You are twelve years old, not a child!" Aurora scolded.
Aurora turned to Harry, "I'm so sorry about my granddaughter."
Eos, having not seen Harry when she entered, turned around, surprised. Harry watched in shock as her eyes turned from flaming red to a surprised yellow and settled for a second at the same bright blue as her grandmother's before shifting to mimic the same emerald green as Harry's eyes.
Harry gaped.
"Hey, it's rude to stare," snapped Eos, "I'm still learning to control it."
"What?" asked Harry, dumbfounded.
"I'm a Metamorphmagus. What, are you slow, or something?"
"Eos!" Aurora snapped, "Don't be rude. He's muggle-raised. He's never seen someone with your abilities. Oh, this must be such a shock."