Harry Potter and the Obvious Solution

Disclaimer: We don't own them, okay? Would you please stop rubbing it in?

Author's Notes: Now comes the really fun part…muahahahaha! Ha. This is mean, we know…poor Harry…but it's so fun!


Chapter 3: The Transformation

Harry woke on the first morning of term feeling a bit off. He felt a bit…top-heavy. He didn't understand why. And…wait…was his hair long? And silky and wavy? Something was definitely wrong here…

Ron got up and walked over to Harry's bed. "Harry mate, are you up yet—WHOA! Harry, your hair is long!"

"I know that, Ron. Perhaps you can tell me what's going on?"

"And your voice is higher. Harry, you sound like…a girl."

No. nononononononono—

"Hey Harry!" Seamus had walked over to see what was going on. "Harry, mate, are you cold?" He had a rather predatory grin on his face.

"What are you talking about, Seamus?" Harry sat up, and Ron and Seamus' jaws dropped. "Can you guys please tell me what's going on?" Harry, having gone to bed the night before as a boy, was dressed only in pyjama pants.

Seamus said, "Cor, Harry, did you grow those overnight?"

"Grow what? Ron—"

"Look down, Harry," Ron said. He had a strange mix of horror, awe, and lust on his face. Harry looked down. His screams shook Gryffindor Tower.

Ron now looked completely shocked. "Harry, are you…all there?" He looked down meaningfully. Harry fumbled with his pants and looked. The Boy-Who-Lived promptly fainted dead away.


When Harry came to, McGonagall was leaning over him, looking shocked. "Potter, do you…feel alright?"

"Professor, I'm not a girl. I'm a boy. A BOY!"

"There, there, Potter, we'll get you to Dumbledore, I'm sure he can sort this out." She handed Harry a dressing gown and sharply told his roommates to turn around. When he was dressed, he followed McGonagall to Dumbledore's office.

"Professor, Potter's here to see you," McGonagall said, and Harry shuffled into the room, looking mortified.

"Harry, whatever is the—MERLIN'S BEARD!"

"It was probably a Sex-Change Potion," McGonagall told Dumbledore, as Harry wailed. "I can't think of anything else that would do this."

Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. "Evidently Lord Voldemort took the prophecy a bit too literally."

"I always said that man was too fond of the piña colada."

Harry sat numbly as the two professors exchanged theories. He was a girl. A girl. Why the bloody hell would anyone do this to him?

"Professors, why the bloody hell would anyone do this to me!"

"Language, Potter!"

"Apparently, Harry, Lord Voldemort thought that if you were a girl, you wouldn't pose a threat."

"WHAT! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"Quite. Now go get dressed and go down to breakfast, Harry, everything will be sorted out."

Harry looked at Dumbledore pleadingly before walking out of the office.


As Harry walked towards the Great Hall, he heard Dumbledore's magically amplified voice—"Attention, attention." Harry froze. Oh, no. No, no, no! "One of our students has undergone a…transformation, of sorts. It would be appreciated if you would treat this student as you normally would, as he has not undergone this transformation willingly."

Harry silently said a prayer for his dignity as he walked into the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table, eating his breakfast. I wonder who it is, he thought. Bet someone accidentally transfigured a first-year into a pig or something…that would be hilarious…he looked over to the doors as a very pretty girl walked into the Hall. The grey school trousers hung low on her hips, the button-down shirt strained across her chest, and her robes dragged along the floor. She looked very familiar…

He realised it at exactly the same time as everyone else. Everyone in the Great Hall gasped as one, and the grin on Malfoy's face got steadily wider and wider. Bloody hell…is that POTTER? Oh, this is gold, this is brilliant…Draco fell to his knees and thanked God for this amazing opportunity to annoy the living hell out ofThe-Boy-Who-Lived.

Meanwhile, Harry sat down between Ron and Hermione and started to bang his head on the table. "I am dead, you guys. I am dead, I am dead, I am dead…"

"Oh, cheer up, Harry," Hermione said. She had been forewarned of his transformation by Ron. "Being a girl's not so bad."

"I'm NOT a girl, Herm! And by the way, I borrowed your shoes."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well, none of mine fit!" Harry said defensively.

"I'm going shopping with you this weekend, Harry," Hermione said decidedly.

"Herm, for the last time, I am not a girl. I am not buying girl's clothes."

"Oh, it'll be fun, Harry. And if nothing else, you need a bra."

"Wh—what? Excuse me?" Harry spluttered. "I do not need a bra!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"Harry, dear, they've got minds of their own. And you can, ahem, tell the temperature sometimes. Like when a person is cold. Especially through a white shirt." She looked meaningfully down at his chest. Harry also looked down, cursed, and crossed his arms.


On the way to Potions, Harry overheard Seamus and Dean talking. Overcome by a bizarre instinct to listen in on the gossip, Harry hung back and eavesdropped.

"Seamus, I really don't like the way you were flirting with Harry today."

"Oh, come on, Dean, you know I don't swing that way. And besides, I like to flirt. It's in my nature."

"Well, I don't like it! Can you please, just…stop?"

"Okay, okay. But only for you. But listen, how could I stand by and watch Harry turn into a girl and not annoy him about it?"

Harry groaned and walked away, trying to suppress the girlish voice in his head saying, there's definitely something going on there…

Malfoy saw Harry walking towards the Potions classroom and seized his chance.

"Hey, Potter—"

"Not, now, Malfoy."

"Aw, what's wrong? PMS?"

"I said not now."

"You're looking perky today. Does that happen when you're angry too?"

"SHUT UP!" Harry yelled shrilly, resisting the urge to kick him in the balls as he walked into Potions. Then he heard a voice from behind him say, "Jesus Christ, look at that arse!" Harry growled menacingly and sat down.

Snape walked towards his Potions class in the dungeons. He had missed breakfast this morning doing a report for the Order, and was not looking forward to the added fatigue of teaching rowdy sixth-years. And he was certainly not prepared for what he saw when he walked into the classroom.

"POTTER!"

"Yes, sir?" Harry replied sullenly.

"P—Potter, is that you?"

"Yes, sir," he said through gritted teeth, bracing himself for the onslaught of sarcastic comments. But to everyone's surprise, Snape simply muttered, "Excuse me, class," and rushed into his office.

After Snape had locked the door, he sat heavily in his black leather chair, which had been custom designed by Terrence Conran—lovely fellow—anyway!

Why didn't the Dark Lord TELL me he was going to use the potion on Potter! Oh dear Lord…I'll get blamed…I'll get the sack…I'll get arrested! Wait…no one knows I made this. That's right! Just keep your cool and deny everything. Right! Deny everything…and have a good long talk with that tasteless Parselmouth the Dark Lord. I mean, come on. Chintz? It went out years ago!

Snape swept back into his classroom, completely composed, and began his lesson.


Author's Notes: Crouching Tigerlily: Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha. Vunderful darling! I loves! Me loves! WE loves! Ah, the joy of Harry-anguish.

LadyVerse: well, that was fun. believe me, I share the same sentiment as my distinguished colleague, Crouching Tigerlily. I think I like Snape the most! yay, evil!