The second chapter asnwers a few reader questions as Harry wakes up in the Game of Life and faces his choices. Character sheet at chapter's end.

Disclaimer: Was Dudley shown as a dumb kid rather than just lazy when he could manipulate his parents and his teachers from an early age and had better grasp of leadership and tactics than Harry? If yes, I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to JK Rowling and this story is entirely free and for fun.

xxxx

Jazzy wanted mommy, not not-mommy. Not-mommy not like hugs. Not-mommy ignore Jazzy. Not-mommy mean. Jazzy wanted daddy, not not-daddy. Not-daddy not funny. Not-daddy not like playing with Jazzy. Not-daddy not make jokes. Not-daddy not give toy broom. Not-daddy mean. Jazzy wanted Paddy, not Diddy. Diddy cry too much. Diddy eat, burp too much. Diddy not like Jazzy. Diddy loud, messy, mean.

She was Jasmine Dursley. She was two years old. She was a perfectly normal girl.

Jasmine liked the second bedroom. It had all of Diddykins toys Diddykins was too stupid or too fat to use. It had lots of picture books. Jasmine liked both, but liked the books more. Diddykins didn't like playing with her much. She didn't like playing on her own. Mommy and Daddy were happy though. Jasmine ate all her food, was always proper, washed the dishes, dressed and undressed herself, made her bed like a good girl. And Mommy and Daddy now took Jasmine to baby ballet lessons! Jasmine was no baby but she was excited!

She was Jasmine Dursley. She was three years old. She was a perfectly normal girl.

Jasmine had a new passion; music. She'd convinced Mommy to buy her a couple toy instruments and played with them as much as she could; she liked the piano best. Dudley also had a new passion; sports. Every time Mommy took them to a party with other children, Jasmine got all the other mums to smile and clap at her performance while Dudley and Polkiss beat the other kids at sports. The other kids cried. Dudley called them losers. Jasmine didn't want to cry so she didn't tell Mommy. Mommy loved them too much and could not believe Dudley would be so good at sports. Or was it bad? Jasmine wasn't sure.

She was Jasmine Dursley. She was four years old. She was a perfectly normal girl.

Jasmine had just finished a year in school! She loved school! It was easy, she learned all sorts of things, and had friends! The other girls wanted to be Jasmine's friends because she was cuter, bolder, smarter. Dudley also liked school. The other boys wanted to be Dudley's friend because he was bigger, stronger, and uglier. He was just as bold and smart as Jasmine though; he knew what kid to target, used good tactics to "divide and conquer" as the History teacher taught them, which kids had parents with big names that might cause trouble, and which teachers wouldn't tolerate "sports" and should be avoided. Jasmine's friends wanted to be cool with the other girls like Dudley's friends were with the boys, but Jasmine had told them that would make them big and ugly like Dudley. They'd all shuddered at that and decided to be good girls, and do all their homework, play friendly games instead of evil sports, and learn music and dancing. They knew that no fat, ugly boy would ever be caught dancing.

She was Jasmine Dursley. She was five years old. She was a perfectly normal girl.

Aunt Marge had visited many times this year, with her favorite bulldog Ripper. Ripper was uglier than Dudley, nastier than Dudley, and probably dumber than Dudley. With no other dogs to bite, he'd tried to hunt down Jasmine. Fortunately, Jasmine was younger than Ripper and didn't spend all her days in Aunt Marge's fat embrace. In school she was the Skipping Rope champion by a large margin, and she was the best dancer in the lessons Mommy sent her. After a rather vigorous and fun chase every time Ripper bothered to get off its fat backside, the dog either lost interest or couldn't keep up... mostly because Jasmine wasn't stupid enough to race him in the open, and was smart enough to lead him into traps.

School was also going very well. Jasmine didn't get the best grades in class; spending all her time studying was boring. She was still fourth or fifth though. She and her friends were the best in Hide-and-Seek, Tag, Skipping Rope and other such games, and best in their year in music or dancing. They kept away from Dudley's gang, mostly because Dudley had somehow convinced most of the teachers that he was a good kid. Mom and Dad must be helping him somehow, thought Jasmine couldn't see it. It was a bit unfair... to Dudley. If Mom and Dad did everything for him, he'd never do anything for himself except for what he wanted at the moment... which was probably how he'd gotten even fatter. Jasmine didn't complain; Dudley's size was to her advantage if his gang and her friends ever clashed. Her brother couldn't hit what he was too slow to catch, and he'd probably fall head-first into the first trap she drew him into.

She was Jasmine Dursley. She was six years old. She was a perfectly normal girl.

xxxx

It was very late. Night had fallen over Little Whinging hours ago, the star-strewn sky glittering overhead. All windows were dark in Privet Drive and everyone was sleeping. Or were they? One girl, lying on her bed in the second bedroom in Number 4 had just woken up from a very vivid nightmare. It was not the first time she'd had bad dreams. In fact, they'd been getting more and more frequent lately, half-remembered glimpses of terrible things that kept her awake and sweaty far more often than she'd have liked. In those faded, jumbled images of two boys, a girl, and a war Jasmine Dursley felt at the same time more depressed and more comforted than in her every day in school or at home. The images would refuse to settle into something coherent, as if they were chopped vegetables in some great cauldron and a massive but unseen ladle stirred and mixed them every so often. And wasn't that image weird? Why a cauldron of all things? She was sure Mom had never owned such a beastly, unsophisticated piece of kitchenware and yet Jasmine was sure she'd seen one before... used it even.

She was a perfectly normal girl.

No, she didn't believe she was. Normal girls didn't have nightmates about bloody wars like a retired soldier! Jumbled as they were, those images showed things and people Jasmine felt she was intimately familiar with, and yet something told her they were alien and freakish at the same time. Scowling at the ceiling, she remembered how her seventh birthday that day had felt like one of those charades in Arts clas, empty of feeling and meaning, a lie. The nightmares from last night had intruded, and Jasmine's easy jokes with Marci, Judith, and Betty had been cut abruptly short. The cake had tasted like ashes; had it been a lie too? She'd retreated to her room as soon as her friends had left, only making a token effort to open her presents. She hadn't told anything to her parents either; they didn't cope well with strange things and had always strongly insisted they were perfectly normal. Until a few days ago Jasmine would have agreed with them, but no longer. But if she wasn't a perfectly normal girl, what was she?

She was seven years old.

But then, why did she feel much older? Why were all her nightmares about older people, and why did she feel as close to them as with her loving family? OK, Dudley was not the best brother but Mom and Dad loved them both a lot... perhaps even too much. And where had that idea come from? What did she know about smothering parents, and where had a seven-year-old even learned the idea of smothering parents? However happy she felt every time Mom hugged her or Dad ruffled her hair, she felt a strange unease every morning, in those moments when she wasn't quite sleeping but not yet fully awake. Marci, Judith, and Betty had commented several times that Jasmine looked distacted and not there in their games. How could she not be when those games felt simplistic to her now? Even her lessons were simple now. Not dancing and music, but every subject at school. From a good but not very diligent student she'd suddenly jumped to being best in class, as if the problems and essays were far below her level. Impossible as it seemed, deep down she felt as if she wasn't a seven-year-old at all.

She was Jasmine Dursley.

Was she? Was she really? She did look a lot like Mom had as a kid, she'd seen pictures. But she didn't look like Dad at all. Struggling between pride and shame, she could also admit she was more good-looking than Mom had ever been... and she was a redhead. She remembered the neighbors' whispers about her when Mom had first let her play with other kids, remembered and could now understand them that she was older. Words like "bastard" and phrases like "out of wedlock" had concrete meaning to her... far more than they should have for a seven-year-old. That realization alone was a clue too. And then, there were the dreams, those that had come long before the nightmares when Jasmine was little. Of being the boy with the magic sword who'd saved the damsel in distress from the serpent. Of being the brave knight on his loyal steed charging the dragon. Of being the young king with his shiny crown leading his knights against the foul evil wizard. Why was Jasmine a boy in her dreams? Why was her every nightmare about a young man? She tried to focus on the memories, remember the young man's face, but the invisible ladle stirred the cauldron that was her mind once more. Jasmine did not stop trying though. She was stubborn more than she was anything else and she wanted to see that face. It had been her birthday and she was entitled to a wish, damn it! Memories slipping through mental fingers again and again, she dragged the pieces of that image from the corners of her mind through sheer will. Memories that were her own and yet not churned like water in a whirlpool, but the pieces held together by her will resisted the current. Piece by piece she reconstructed the image; it felt like swimming upriver, running a marathon, and beating her head against the wall at the same time. But ultimately she won... and something foreign and unwelcome snapped and vanished from her mind.

Harry Potter jumped off his bed in the body of a girl, barely holding in a scream. It was a minute past midnight, November the first 1987.

xxxx

No, no, no, no no!

Harry tiptoed down the stairs to the bathroom with as much stealth as he could muster in this foreign body. He wanted to scream, but he wanted to wake the Dursleys even less. Slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door as silently and firmly as she... he could behind him, he turned on the light and stared at the large mirror. What looked back at him was definitely not Harry Potter.

Hazel eyes, long red hair, a less blocky, heart-shaped face. Taller, definitely taller than Harry had been at that age, but with the same wiry strength in her limbs. Far more baby fat though, and not a single sign of malnourishment or frequent punishments. And obviously female, of course; looking in the mirror had only killed Harry's last, fading hope that it would not be so, for he could feel a very important absence in this new body of his, and he didn't mean the decade or so of additional growth.

How the bloody hell had that happened? And why did he think he was Jasmine Dursley for years and years? He could remember everything; growing up as Dudley's sister, getting presents like he had, dance lessons, music lessons, making friends at school... talking about clothes, and cute things, and how stupid boys were with other girls... ugh. At least she... he had never played with dolls. He also remembered life as Harry Potter now. He hadn't up till yesterday but wasn't sure why. Something very fishy was going on, beyond this being someone's idea of a huge joke. He could accept Fate being a bitch; he'd lived it after all. But having to live and act as a girl? He'd asked Hermione how Polyjuicing into him had felt once. Just once though; his best female friend knew some mean hexes and was not afraid to use them.

Since the whole situation of him growing up with the Dursleys was the same at its core, there was a good chance this whole crazy situation was more than Fate being angry at him for trying to mess up the game by erasing his Destiny. He was beginning to think that treating the Game of Life as a joke back in Limbo had been a huge mistake on his part. It had been called the "Game of Life" and he'd found it in Limbo, for Merlin's sake! A place he'd come back from once before, getting to return to life. What if this was exactly like before, except he had come back earlier?

Jasmine Dursley's body shuddered as the spirit inhabiting it considered the implications. Harry had asked for Loving Family, and the Dursleys loved who he appeared to be. He'd erased his Chosen One status, and there was no evidence of a scar on this body's forehead. He'd asked to be Harmless and Cute, and this body was that with spades. Maybe that had something with him being a girl now? And what of the other changes he'd made? He did not remember any cases of accidental magic in his years with the Dursleys; not a single one. No color-changing or unruly hair or eyes either, as a potential born Metamorph would have. And why had he only started to think about all this a few days ago? Why had he been content to be Jasmine Dursley for the past several years? His life being easy and fun would have been a factor, but not by that much.

Harry concentrated on what he could remember feeling about the recent changes. He turned away from the mirror even; that cute baby scowl his current body had was quite distracting in a hilarious and horrifying sort of way. Hmm... something about being Jasmine Dursley... about being seven again... about being... perfectly... normal! How could he possibly have missed that? He focused on the memories where that soft voice he'd heard in the back of his mind had been the strongest, all revolving about his past several birthdays - especially this one. The memories of his past life almost intentionally slipping through his mental grasp, his actions being almost directed... that feeling of something snapping in his thoughts. Suddenly Harry did not just suspect; he knew beyond doubt. As wave after wave of anger filled his thoughts and Jasmine Dursley's face in the mirror went all red and pouty, information poured in his mind in a way that had only felt when examining the Game of Life in Limbo.

You have snapped out of a major Compulsion for the first time, specifically the Imperius Curse; your Conviction has gone up by one.

What the bloody hell?

xxxx

JASMINE DURSLEY ?

Age: 7 Gender: female ? Hair: Red ? Eyes: Hazel ?

Concept: Half-Blood Witch ?

Trouble: War Orphan

Benefits: Accidental Magic, Inheritance, Quick Recovery, Happy Family, Uncanny Awareness, Harmless and Cute, A Thousand Faces

Drawbacks: Enemy of the Dark, Unsubtle and Quick to Anger, Doing the Right Thing, I Need to Know, Trouble Magnet, Loyal Friend, Cautious

Strength: 7 Agility: 50 Endurance: 12 Intellect: 50 Conviction: 74 Presence: 50 Destiny: 0

Health: 60/60 Energy: 888/888