The Green, Greengrass Of Home
A plot bunny that won't go away… Read 'The Greengrass Is Greener On The Other Side' first, or you won't have a Scooby Doo what's happening in this spin off story! Inspired by a reviewer, I have written this tale, in order to stretch myself as a writer and further explore the side-effects of events in my previous story – though a few details will be changed, even before the story goes in a different direction to end with an alternative ending.
NB: This is NOT intended to be, in any way, a social/political story on real life. I just like writing about the effects of transformations. And in case someone wants to say, 'But the transference device can't possibly change someone's orientations on…' remember this is my story, my rules. If you don't like it, then don't read! As a fanfiction writer, I am just playing in J.K. Rowling's sandbox…
Blurb: A variation on – and expansion of - 'The Greengrass Is Greener On The Other Side'. Just how did Harry and Daphne cope during their sixth year, after changing places? And what if the outcome for them and their friends was different?
Themes: Drama, Romance, Friendships & Family.
Principal characters: (Harry Potter, Daphne Greengrass, Luna Lovegood) Tracey Davis.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the established characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Any additional characters and ideas are of my creation! No money is being made from this story.
This spin off story is broadly in line with the events of 'The Half-Blood Prince' and 'The Deathly Hallows' – though where there are differences, they will come to light in due course. For example, I have made Astoria Greengrass a year older than she is in canon.
A thank you to WolfgangNH, who has acted as beta-reader for this chapter – and who has also written several good Harry Potter stories for Fanfiction!
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Chapter One:
Getting To Know You
Tuesday, 25 August 1998:
Dear diary…
We might need to change the plan!
This morning, the five of us all received our owl post from Professor McGonagall. By the 'five of us', I mean those of us who were 'Switched' by that blasted transference device. The headmistress told us that the Ministry's attempts to get said contraption working again might or might not have succeeded – and instead of trusting it to work when we all returned to Hogwarts on the first day of term, we should try it in advance, to see if any of our closely-knit group could be returned to normal. She stated that Remus had his doubts that the machine would remain stable for long…
Most of my now-larger circle of friends have spent time together in our chosen smaller groups, so that we could meet, talk, and generally try to come to terms with everything that happened during the war. Hermione doesn't think that highly of the Ministry's approach to counselling – but admits that 'Anything is better than nothing'. We've all been affected by the deaths we've witnessed – those of pupils, loved ones, and Death Eaters. I suppose that we've all had our moments of tears – even away from the funerals of those who died too young.
Luna has been a godsend. She seems to become more and more attuned to my moods and drifting thoughts. And apart from the group sessions, where we try to support each other, we have taken other approaches too. Several of us got together to help Luna's father rebuild his home and make it studier than the last one. It was long, tiring work - but for me it felt good to be doing something constructive, instead of just lounging and feeling anger and sorrow for those who died too soon.
It could have been worse. We nearly lost Remus Lupin and Tonks. Or Dora as she prefers to be called now. Poor Teddy had already been robbed of his grandfather before he was born. But he'll grow up, knowing his parents. Thank Morgana…
I'm going off track again. But writing this down helps to clear out the clutter of jumbled thoughts in my head.
As I write this all down, I look around my white and green painted bedroom as the afternoon sunlight bathes it in a rosy glow, illuminating the chest of drawers besides my plush bed and the animated photograph of me, my sister, and my parents – a picture that was taken not long after our return to Greengrass Manor, back in May. When Voldemort died and the war ended. Our mother has her arm wrapped around my shoulder, whilst father's hand is resting on my sister's, even as she places her hand lovingly on his. We are all trying to smile for the camera. We are grateful to have all survived and to be reunited. It feels good to be back home, an oasis of greenery and calm that the two of us need after the horrors we've been through.
Our parents try to do what they believe to be the right things – such as staying neutral during the first wizarding war, and secretly supporting Harry Potter when they weighed the prospects of him becoming their future son-in-law. They love their two daughters – their two girls who have proved themselves worthy of being Slytherin witches. And we, in turn, love them.
But we can't tell them the truth.
For the younger girl in the photo, wearing a summer dress identical to mine, is actually still Luna Lovegood – wearing the face and form of Astoria Greengrass.
And her elder, pretty sister, with her long honey-blonde tresses, was born as Harry James Potter…
That's right. The transference device, which Daphne's grandparents used to swap identities, broke down when Daphne and I tried to return to our original forms, over a year ago. The real Astoria is still a young man in the form of Ernie Macmillan, Ernie is still stuck as Luna. Whilst the real Daphne is getting to grips with the fact that he may be destined to grow up to become a man. A handsome-looking man at that, I find myself thinking more so as time goes by…
And then there's me. The Boy Who Lived who, unknown to the wider wizarding world, is actually The Woman Who Won. Dear Morgana…
There I go again. Daphne and I used the transference device to swap places before the eyes of Dumbledore, Hermione, and Tracey, so that I could spy on Draco Malfoy and Astoria in my sixth year at school. I tried to soak up everything necessary from Tracey and the real Daphne on how to successfully impersonate Daphne Greengrass. How she spoke, how she wrote, her mannerisms, her dress code, how she felt about the other Slytherin pupils, the works. Dumbledore, using his Pensieve, copied some of the memories of Daphne and myself -and exchanged them, placing the new memories into our heads. In the year and a half that has gone by, I've found that it's become second nature for me to sometimes automatically think and act as Daphne…
Reading back through this diary entry proves that. A diary that is spell charmed, so that it can be read only by those I share permission with. So that our new parents never find out that their daughters are not their original children. When I was Harry, I never kept a diary or journal. After I became Daphne, it was one of the habits that Daphne and Tracey urged me to take up, in order to discipline my thoughts, as the real Daphne would – but Luna also believed it would help me to unload my already unenviable stress load. She was right. I never referred to 'Morgana' in an exclamation before I became Daphne. Now my graceful writing does not just resemble her hand, my vocabulary is mainly hers. Some of it is still mine.
It really has been a mind-boggling journey. How did this all start? Thankfully, both Daphne and I kept an occasional log of the events as they unfolded…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Wednesday, 29 January 1997:
Dear journal,
I have taken the usual precautions to ensure that no one can read this, unless they have my permission to do so. This information could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. Dear Morganna…
I am writing this down, so that I can get my mind clear again. What a crazy day it has been so far.
I remember the moment when the insanity started. The device of my maternal grandparents was humming as it stood before us, placed to one side of Professor Dumbledore's office, dials lit up. Harry Potter emerged from behind his screen, clad only in a long robe that matched mine. He was still wearing his spectacles though. I studied the face before me. The face that would soon be mine.
"I hope that you'll treat my body with respect, Potter," I muttered rather tersely. "I am placing a great deal of trust on you…"
He nodded, his throat bobbing. "Got it. I'll try to be…um, a gentleman – even as a lady," he answered.
"For the record, you two are NOT exchanging bodies. That would require an exchange of your souls between your physical shells. Instead, you are exchanging your FORMS," Professor McGonagall corrected me. Her stern gaze scrutinised me. "And you should be respectful of Mr Potter's form whilst you are 'wearing' it also, Miss Greengrass," she added.
Tracey smirked at me. She knew the way I thought all too well. Despite my nodding at McGonagall's words, I was already idly wondering what Harry Potter looked like underneath the robe… Then I chastised myself. We were about to swap physical forms! I would soon learn how much he had changed since our first days at Hogwarts. When he had looked thin and even undernourished. I had wondered at the time what kind of upbringing he must have had…
The bad side to this trade-off… Harry would gain my form. He would see how underdeveloped I was in my chest. How pale my skin could be. But Tracey was hesitant to go through with the swap, believing herself to be too fat, even though she's not. She's just a little pudgy. A few weeks of dieting would soon put her right. I may not know that much about Muggles – but I know enough that, compared to them, most witches and wizards are physically lazy and do not exercise enough. At least I try to keep myself slim and do stretching exercises each day to maintain my physique.
I catch a snigger from Tracey. I'm sure that she cheated when we drew straws…
I glanced sideways at her. Tracey stood alongside Granger and Weasley. Next to them was the stern-faced Professor McGonagall. They were the audience to the transformation that was about to occur.
I stood to one side of the machine. Underneath my long robe, my knees were knocking as I thought again of the risk that I was taking. I was about to become Harry Potter – the number one target for You-Know-Who. I had seen and heard enough of the crazy things that Potter had been involved in whilst at school – and I wanted to see this plan come to a successful resolution as soon as possible. For Potter, in my form, to use his secret resources and find out what Astoria was up to with her frequent disappearances – and what they had to do with Draco Malfoy. Then, Potter and I could resume our correct physical forms and lives once again.
I had no intention of being Harry Potter for any longer than I needed to be…
"If you are ready, Harry, Daphne…," Professor Dumbledore smiled at both of us, in the mistaken belief that it would be reassuring. "…grab hold of the rods next to you."
Potter duly adjusted his robes so that they would not hang open as he took hold of the rods at his side of the device with both hands. I did so too at my end. Then the headmaster adjusted some dials, and activated a switch…
"Now!" he called out.
There was a flash of light. My body tensed for a moment as I felt a surge of magic surge into me along my arms. The same happened to Potter too.
A moment later, it began. The magic that had been fired into me changed my shape. My skin seemed to crawl with insects. My eyes widened as I felt myself growing slightly taller. My limbs seemed to turn sturdier. The hand that I turned towards me lost its slender appearance, and I was thankful that I had thought to forgo applying any nail vanish that morning.
My already small breasts shrank, and I gave an undignified 'yelp' as I felt my hips narrow. The displaced body cells shifted around inside of me, and provided me with a flat, broad chest and a wider waist.
Then my internal parts started to change. My muscles grew a bit, along with my changing bones. My face altered slightly, and I was surprised to feel a ridge of bone grow above my thickening eyebrows and feel a sensation at the back of my skull as the bones made a subtle change there too.
Next came the part I had been worried about. I gasped as I felt my reproductive organs churn and shrink within me, robbing me of what made me a young lady. Moments later, the emerging tissue, hidden from everyone's sight – including my own – was turned inside out, and I proceeded to grow… Well, a boy's malehood.
At the same time, my lovely hair had receded. Soon the end of it was above my neck, and I felt it with my spare hand. It was strange not to have my hair draped over my back.
Potter had transformed into me whilst all this was going on, of course. I glanced back up at him, as he gave a cry and glanced down towards the area of his groin. His voice had already reached a higher pitch than what he was used to, no doubt. Meanwhile, Potter's hair had turned into my honey-blonde tresses. He had shrunk slightly, and his face was now looking more feminine, his eyebrows thinner, his facial skin looking to be smoother.
Now I was the taller out of us two.
The changes in both of us then ended as we gasped and got our breaths back. The magic surge faded from my body. At the same time, the final change took face. My eyesight slowly turned a bit blurry.
"That… felt strange," I panted. Then I paused, hearing my new, deeper voice. The voice of Harry Potter…
"No kidding…," the new girl in front of me panted with what had to be my normal voice – but a voice I had never heard from another person's perspective before, hence the difference. The young witch squinted and took off her spectacles, finding that she could now see better without them. "You'll need these now, Greengrass. Look after them. Please."
Nodding, I slipped them and took a moment for my eyes to adjust to corrected vision. For a moment, I stared back at the new Daphne Greengrass – and she looked back at the new boy, the new Harry Potter, before her. The sensation was briefly disorientating. It was like I was looking into a mirror – but the mirror image was actually the right way round, and it was alive, independent of me…
Gulping, we both turned to face our audience. Weasley looked as if he was going to be sick. Granger seemed fascinated, but unable to speak in her worried state of mind – the thumbs of her interlocked hands still pressed against the end of her nose. Meanwhile, the headmaster was watching us closely – whilst Tracey was now grinning and giving little hops on the spot in her excitement.
"Any pain or discomfort – either of you?" the headmaster asked us.
We both shook our heads.
"Good. Now go behind the changing screen that you have NOT already used, Harry. So that you can put on the fresh underwear you have both brought along, before donning your new uniform. The same for you, Mr Greengrass."
"Right…," muttered Miss Potter as she hid herself behind the screen that I had used – whilst I took the other. Once behind the folding screen, I flung off my robe and glanced down at my new form…
I winced, seeing a boy's…thingy…for the first time. As for Potter's legs… Dear Morgana! Didn't boys shave down there at this age?
Snapping out of it, I got to work, using the mirror set into the folding screen to aid myself as I stepped into a boy's trunks for the first time, before seeing to the socks, shirt, trousers, and shoes. I smirked, as I heard Potter shriek for help. To put on her bra, no doubt... Tracey and Granger argued between themselves as to who should go over, before Granger came up with the point that "Harry would be more comfortable with me helping him, right now! Er, helping her."
Getting dressed would not take me so long now, I silently mused…
Still, I paused when I picked up the red-and-yellow tie. The significance of it was not lost on me. Amongst other things, Snape would hate me on sight now, thinking that I was Potter. I knew from the headmaster that he had not been informed of this scheme – as per our joint wishes.
I thought again of Astoria.
"Honestly… The things I do for you, kid sister…," I muttered darkly as I wrapped the tie around me and adjusted it, tucking it under the collar of my shirt. Then I donned the grey blazer with its red and yellow piping at the bottom, before slipping on my new robes. I scowled at my reflection, seeing the Gryffindor shield and house colour trimmings on the robe. Finally, I adjusted my now-black hair with my hands, annoyed that I couldn't get it completely tamed.
So, it wasn't for want of trying on Potter's part that his hair was often messy…
My attention turned to Potter's wand, lying on the seat of the provided chair. I could feel it vaguely…tugging…at me, somehow.
Frowning, I picked it up. Immediately, a flow of magic surged into me, making me feel just like I did when I first touched my own wand. Like it had chosen me! But…but this was not my wand…
Eyes widening, I stepped out from behind my screen, presenting myself to the others as a young Gryffindor wizard. At the same moment, Potter stepped out from behind her screen, dressed in the full uniform of a Slytherin witch. A witch in the form of Daphne Greengrass.
She held my wand in her hand. Next to her, Granger looked…concerned. We all looked at each other, then turned to Professor Dumbledore.
"What is it, Harry?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
"It's Daphne's wand, Professor," she began, speaking in the voice of Daphne Greengrass. "It's now formed a connection to me! As if…it's chosen me…"
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Later on…
As I approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, still adjusting to my altered sense of balance, I hesitated, glancing anxiously at Granger and Weasley. Or rather Hermione and Ron, as they now wanted me to call them. Which made sense, since I was now Harry… But at that stage, it still felt normal to think of them by their surnames. One thing I was aware of was that the two of them were barely speaking to each other, for some reason. They had only agreed to be cordial now, because of the need to support me in being the new, temporary Harry.
I wondered how Potter felt about having to leave them to their bickering, given what all three of them had allegedly been through at Hogwarts so far. Perhaps Potter was happy to be out of Gryffindor Tower for a few days. But she would now have to put up with increased contact with Malfoy and Parkinson, in exchange…
"What is it now, Green-?" Weasley trailed off as he saw Granger's withering stare. "Er, I mean… What's wrong, 'Harry' ?"
"This is going to be scarier than I thought it would be… No one else on the other side of that door knows who I really am," I muttered.
"Well, that's you wanted," Granger reminded me. "But it would help if you let us tell Neville. You can trust him with your secret. It would be best to have a back-up, in case you have problems when Ron's not around."
"I'll…consider it. But your sister, Ron. If she found out I'm not really Harry…"
"She doesn't know! I happen to agree with you that she's left in the dark on this. I sometimes wonder if she's really serious about dating Dean or if she's trying to get Harry jealous," Weasley told us, looking peeved. "Look… Despite what you Slytherins think, or what you've been told about us Gryffs, we're actually a decent bunch! We'll… We'll try to watch your back as much as we can, alright?"
I inclined my head slightly. "Thank you."
"What did the headmaster want with you, when he asked you to stay behind a little longer whilst we waited outside, by the way?" Granger asked me.
"He told me not to say." The words came out of my mouth before I thought of them.
"Can't you give us a clue?" Weasley muttered.
I shook my head. I tried to think what it was Professor Dumbledore had told me…
Granger reached out her hand towards mine – then paused, seeing my raised eyebrow. She dropped it, a sheepish expression on her face. "You can do this, 'Harry'. Come on… You're an honorary Gryffindor now. You need to prove to us how brave and chivalrous you can be. We've already tested you, so that you know Harry's thoughts and reactions to all sorts of people and different situations…"
"And as you know, we've timed this so that you don't have any Quidditch practice for the next week," Weasley reminded me.
"Good. I don't really like Quidditch…," I muttered.
"Don't let me hear you say that…, 'Harry'." Weasley looked annoyed, and he shook his head. Then he stepped closer to me. "The password is 'Born Free'. Hermione suggested it to McGonagall. I don't get it, meself."
"It's a Muggle film about lions, Ron… At least Seamus and Dean thought it was funny. But then they've got some Muggle heritage…"
Rolling my eyes, I stepped forward towards the toga-attired lady in the animated portrait. "Born free," I said, wanting to get this over with.
"May we all stay that way," the Fat lady replied, before the portrait door opened up. All three of us stepped inside, with Granger going in first. I was soon struck by the warmth, red décor, and by the noise of the pupils gathered. The different sizes and ages of the boys and girls suggested to me that all seven years were present – mainly keeping to themselves in their own years it seemed, but they were also some mixing at the table where games where being played. Brown and the Gryffindor member of the Patil twins were sat on a sofa, talking animatedly about fashion – until Brown looked up and, beaming, jumped to her feet and was about to embrace 'Won-Won!'. Then she noticed Granger standing nearby and frowned.
"Oh… Are you still…hanging around together?"
"Er… When to comes to helping out Harry, yeah… Look, I'll cuddle up with you later, alright Lav? I need to head upstairs with Harry," Ron told her.
Brown giggled. "I'll look forward to that, then."
"Excuse me. I'll see you boys later…" Granger's face had turned flush in the moment before she strode over to one of the two far doors in the common room.
So that's why my new pair of…friends…were acting awkwardly around each other, I thought to myself.
Weasley led me over to the other far door, and up the staircase beyond, to the sixth-year boys dormitory. There, with no one else around, Ron directed me to my new bed and the set of drawers next to it, so that I could find and open Harry Potter's classwork books and set of used and unused scrolls. Reading through them, I groaned.
"What's wrong now, 'Harry'?" Weasley muttered.
"Potter's writing is so untidy – and his notes are so disorganised…," I answered.
Weasley suddenly perked up. "Hey! That reminds me. We need to get you to copy his handwriting so that no one realises…"
"…that I'm just a fake Harry," I growled, expressing just how I felt at that moment.
Weasley looked at me, looking uncomfortable. He crossed his arms. "I'm not exactly happy about this too, you know! I've just lost my best friend – if only for what I hope will be just a few days. I'm still trying to get to grips that Harry's now batting for the other side…"
"I don't play Quidditch! I told you I don't like it…"
"Not batting for Slytherin! I mean Harry batting for the girls!" Weasley turned red in the face. He huffed. "I hope your sister's worth all this. Finding out what she's up to, I mean."
I nodded. "So do I. If all she's hiding is some affair with a boy from another house, I'll strangle her…"
"So, you only want her to date another Slytherin?"
"No! That's not what I meant. Look… Just leave me to focus on becoming Harry, in here. All right?" I huffed, pointing to my head.
The boy nodded. His face twitched. "Suit yourself…, Greengrass." He turned and headed over to his own bed, in order to look over his own schoolwork.
Sighing, I turned to Potter's timetable and quickly looked at his class notebook. I had learnt from him that he was taking the NEWT lessons for Defence Against the Dark Arts… Naturally. And also Potions, Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration. But I discovered that his most pressing homework assignment was on Divination. A class that I had opted, along with Trace, to omit. Like Granger, we studied Arithmancy and Ancient Runes – two subjects that Potter didn't.
After half an hour, Potter's notebook on Divination slipped down from my lap as my hands, bunched into fists, shot up to squeeze my hair out of habit. My now-shorter hair…
"Weas- Ron!" I hissed. Why did Harry choose to continue to study Divination? The way Professor Trelawney teaches it… Ugh! It's useless!"
Weasley looked up from his work. "Er… I persuaded him to. From the course description, it looked easier than the other options…"
He trailed off, his mouth hanging slack. My face must have turned deadly pale.
"You chose a subject…, not because of how it might help you choose a career, but…because it looked…EASIER?" I hissed. "And got your best friend, a boy with a reputation of being a strong wizard…of having potential to do great things…, to do the same as you?"
A nervous, hesitant nod was my only answer.
I gave a short, but loud, scream of frustration.
I was already wondering - and regretting - what exactly I had let myself in for…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Wednesday, 29 January 1997:
Dear diary,
This was the second time that I've had to don a disguise, in order to infiltrate Slytherin house. Being Gregory Goyle for an hour, so that I could find out from Malfoy who the Heir of Slytherin was, was bad enough.
This felt worse.
I was still mentally grappling with a few facts. I now had a different centre of balance, thanks to my body having been changed into a that of a teenage girl. A few strands from my longer hair were dangling over my forehead, irritating me – and I tried not to think too much about…well…about my new anatomy and sharing a shower with Tracey and the other Slytherin girls.
At least Daphne had modest-sized breasts. I gave them a pinch whilst I had been behind the dressing screen to test their firmness, it now felt strange - but not unpleasant - to have a feminine chest. I had feared that my new…anatomy would have been too large, and I would become too self-conscious over it. Hopefully, none of the boys would be chasing after Daphne… Wait. I know that sounds cruel, but it was what I thought at the time. I already knew, from what Daphne had told me before the switch, that she didn't have a boyfriend. That meant I could get on with my task with less interruptions.
"The current password is 'Ophiuchus'…," Tracey Davis announced, breaking me out of my worried thoughts, as we walked down the stairs near to the Great Hall, and headed down to the dungeon level, on our way to the Slytherin common room. At that moment, we were the only people around.
"Huh?" I turned to her.
"Ophiuchus! The constellation of the serpent bearer. Snakes! Don't you remember your constellations lessons from your first year, Harry?" Davis rolled her eyes behind her oval-shaped glasses. "It was actually Daphne who suggested it to the perfects. Some of us were getting weary of passwords such as 'Tradition' and 'Purity'."
"Good for her, I guess…"
"Hey…" Tracy stopped walking and laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder, surprising me. "It won't be so bad, 'Daphne'. Not all of us are like Malfoy and his posse – far from it. Astoria won't be speaking to you, right now, thanks to her rebelling against her big sister's concern about where she keeps disappearing to. But you can trust me. And I know Theodore's a good lad. Most of the others won't bother you," she told me, her hazel eyes looking kindly at me.
"So long as I don't go far from you, I suppose it won't be too bad," I conceded.
"Well, you're in luck then, because Daphne and I are best buddies. We're practically inseparable…" Tracey hesitated, her smile fading to a look of concern. "Until now, anyway. I hope Daffy proves himself to be brave enough to be a Gryffindor for a few days."
"Daffy?" I smiled, despite myself.
"Yup…," Tracey replied, popping the 'p'. "That's what Tori and I call her now and then. Usually when she needs taking down a peg or two – or when we're just in a mischievous mood."
"Tori…? Oh! Right. Astoria! Got it…"
Seeing a pair of Slytherin boys younger than ourselves descending the stairs behind us, we got moving again. Tracey allowed me to give the password to the stone wall that then slid open to admit us. Feeling tense, I took a deep breath and stepped into the green-lit, broad room, with its grand, but rather old – and stiff – looking furniture. Fireplaces roared on either side of the common room, providing extra light and warmth to the gathering of numerous groups of pupils engaged in study or discussion. I saw no games being played. Most of the Slytherins were still dressed in their uniforms – the green lapels and snake crests of my robes matching theirs. Their white and green-striped ties the same as mine.
One outburst of laughter caught my ears. I turned and saw the small, dark-blonde haired girl that was Astoria Greengrass, hanging out with a gang of witches who looked to be the same age as her, including a Latino girl who looked relaxed and friendly. Astoria was laughing with them over some joke – but then, seeing me, her face suddenly turned stony, and she turned away from my gaze.
Tracey tugged on my sleeve. "C'mon, Daphne. We need to be ready for tomorrow's classes."
"Right," I agreed.
On the far side of the common room were two doors. Set into one was the animated portrait of a wand-bearing wizard in Tudor-like garb. His counterpart on the second door was a finely attired lady from the same period of history, also welding a wand. Taking the second door, I followed Tracey. Together, we ignored the level passageway and instead descended a stone-stepped stairwell five levels – then walked along the corridor before Tracey paused before one of several doors along the way. We paused whilst another girl walked by – then Tracey whispered to me.
"See if Daphne's wand works for you here! Press the tip to the door's ring handle and give our own password – Neapolitan."
My eyebrows must have shot up.
Tracey giggled. "You do know that Daphne is known as the 'Ice Queen' of Slytherin, don't you?"
"Um… I might've heard it somewhere… Ice Queen…" I groaned, now getting Tracey's pun. Nevertheless, following her instructions, the door opened for me. I would need to ask Tracey about getting the password changed to something less corny.
We slipped inside, just as the glow lamp in the dormitory magically registered our presence and lit up. I could now see a pleasant-enough looking room with two four-poster beds with a light green drapery.
"Just…us two?" I breathed, feeling somewhat relieved.
"Yup. All the Slytherin dormitories are tailored for two to three boys or girls. All girls down the staircase with the witch's portrait, obviously." Tracey looked at me with curiosity. "It's different in Gryffindor tower, then?"
I nodded. "Daphne now has the pleasure of sleeping in the same dormitory as Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Though we all have our separate screens to get changed behind, like here."
Tracey tittered. "I wonder how he will get on, adjusting to that set up."
I frowned. "You're rather…chipper…about this, Davis. Um… By chipper, I mean…"
She smiled. "Please. Call me 'Tracey' – regardless of the circumstances. And yes, I know what you meant." Her voice dropped, and her expression turned serious. "I'm trusting you with this secret, Harry. I'm a half-blood. Malfoy and Parkinson have already used it as an excuse to belittle me."
"Oh… Well, I can understand how that feels, Tracey," I answered. "My mum was Muggle-born. And your parents…?"
"My mother's a Muggle. Dad was open-minded enough to date and marry her, but... Well, never mind about them. Let's get you orientated, Harry. It might be best if I call you 'Daphne', or 'Daffy' at any given time, whilst you're undercover! The toilets and showers are at the far end of the corridor outside. Daphne's already advised you that you don't have to worry about having a period within the next week…"
I nodded with relief, though I must have still turned red.
Tracey giggled. "You look cute when you're blushing, Harry. Anyway, I understand that you haven't studied Ancient Runes or Arithmancy at all, sooo we need to get you up to speed with those subjects. Luckily, Daffy completed all of her homework before switching places with you. Let's get out her class books and timetable. Then, later on, I can test you again on how you should react to the political powerplays we can expect from other Slytherins…"
And so, with Tracey's bubbly manner helping to calm me down, we got to work on making me mentally prepared to be the new, temporary Daphne Greengrass.
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Thursday, 30 January 1997:
Dear journal,
I am writing this during the evening, after finally getting some peace and quiet! It has now been twenty-four hours since I became Harry Potter.
The experience has been…interesting, I suppose.
It has also been gruelling and terrifying at times!
I thought it would be easier for me – a girl turning into a boy. Getting dressed would be quicker. I wouldn't need to worry about applying make-up. Or putting up with leery boys eying me up. After all, the Slytherin boys around my age have learnt the hard way that I can defend myself with a range of hexes. Even without my wand, I'm not useless. I know where to kick when I've had to…
I wonder how Potter is getting on. Not just at playing me, I mean. But also if she is on the case at knowing what Tori is playing at. I will need to ask her. Since Granger is in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes – she can pass on messages to Potter in those classes, classes that I now can't attend. Potter and I need to meet up in secret, and we can use any one of several classrooms that won't be in use at certain times.
Today, after lessons ended, Weasley told Granger and I that he was going to spend a little time with Lavender Brown. Huffing, Granger decided in the circumstances to take me over to the Owlery. Not that either of us had letters to post. It was just somewhere where we could speak in private, away from the main buildings. We waited until a pair of fifth year Hufflepuff lads came out into the evening air, chatting between them about girls that they fancied. Then Granger and I slipped inside and removed our scarves and gloves, warming ourselves in the heat emitted by a glow-lamp fitted to a wall. I took off my new spectacles and removed them with my scarf to clear them.
"How's it going so far, Daphne?" Granger asked me, once she had cast a privacy spell for safe measure.
I bristled. "I didn't realise that boys could be such pigs! Some of them, anyway. Longbottom is not a problem – but Thomas and Finnegan and their banter… Uggh!"
Granger snorted with laughter. I glared at her.
"Sorry… It's just strange watching 'Harry' say that…" Granger swallowed back her mirth and turned serious as I nervously felt my new lightning-shaped scar.
"It doesn't hurt, does it?"
I shook my head. "It's just an impression – not a real scar. Which I guess means that even though Potter's face won't be showing a scar whilst she's me, the mark will still be there, just under the skin. I've already noticed the younger girls gasping when they look at this scar. I suppose they've been brought up on all those silly, fanciful books about him. I'm starting to see why your friend has gradually got fed up with being the centre of attention here, during the past few years…"
"That's true. What about Ron, though? Has he been helpful enough in getting you used to your…new circumstances?"
I took a deep breath and let it loose, before telling her about my annoyance with Potter's disorganised notes and Weasley's carefree attitude. To my surprise, Granger nodded.
"I've been urging them to be take their schooling more seriously for years, but I've learnt that I can only push them so far. Besides, I'm… I'm trying to stop being too pushy. I've learnt the hard way that I come across to others as too self-driven and too competitive…"
I habitually raised my hand to play with my hair, only to remind myself that it was now shorter. My nails instead struck the arm of Potter's spectacles.
"I found it strange that in our joint classes… Slytherin and Gryffindor classes, I mean. You almost always pair up with Potter or Weasley. Never the other Gryffindor girls… Why is that?" I asked her.
"Oh. Er… Because I put the other girls off with my drive to keep pushing myself to be the best I can, basically. I do sometimes team up with Parvati in other lessons. But she is usually joined at the hip with Lavender. The giggling girls of Gryffindor…" Granger rolled her eyes. "Anyway, can you please stop being so formal with names, Daphne? Surely, you've known me long enough to call me 'Hermione' by now? And it's not 'Potter or Weasley'. It's Harry and Ron. Try addressing them by their first names at all times, and maybe they won't find you too frosty!"
I paused, and then nodded. It would make a pleasant change to stop being the Ice Queen of Slytherin after all. Especially since I was now a pretend Gryffindor. "All right. I'll try. Old Slytherin habits can be hard to break, though."
"So, what's it's like – being a boy, Daphne?" Grang- Hermione smirked.
"It's not been so bad, I guess. But…" I hesitated, my cheeks turning red with embarrassment.
"What?"
"I had an accident when I peed for the first time as a boy," I whispered, wincing.
Hermione's eyes momentarily widened. "Oh…," she responded.
"Weas- I mean Ron - thought it funny when he asked me why I had yelled in the cubicle when we went to the toilets together. So, from now on, I need to follow Ron's advice and remember to hold onto the…ugh! Thing! …in order to control it!" I hissed.
"Riggghhhttt… Any other problems?"
My hand pressed against my chest. "It feels strange…not having girl breasts! Not having to wear a bra. And yet… I will admit, it feels nice to have a bit more muscle in my chest and arms."
That earned me a smile from Hermione. "I noticed that you seemed uneasy at lunchtime today, Daphne."
"I wasn't expecting to still be hungry after I had what I would normally eat!" I groaned. "I guess boys have bigger stomachs than girls. And… Well, you admonished me for putting beetroot on my plate…"
"Harry doesn't like beetroot! Luckily, you saw me shaking my head and got the hint. But Neville and Ginny were giving you strange looks." Hermione huffed. "We need to test you again with a list of things and people, and train you on how you should react to each of them. Luckily, I've started to expand on the list we ran by you yesterday… You'll have to live without beetroot for as long as you are 'Harry' . Oh, and you didn't have any sausages at dinner. Harry always goes for sausages when he's got the choice."
"But I don't like them!" I wailed.
"Ah… Well, we'll have to hope no one else is too bothered about Harry's eating habits for the next few days, then."
I rolled my eyes, sighing at Hermione's obsession with detail. But at the same time, I was grateful she was around to watch out for me.
"Try not to let Ron annoy you. He might not be pleased about having a Slytherin guest becoming his best friend for the time being – but personally I hope we can use this experience to secretly build a bridge between our houses," Hermione gushed.
I snorted. "Maybe we can. But my top priority is my sister. I'm convinced she's getting herself in trouble, and I want Pot- I mean Harry – to help me save her. Then Harry and I are going back to our rightful houses. Got it?"
"Understood." Hermione's tone conveyed disappointment. Then she spoke again. "But before we go through the list tomorrow, any further thoughts?"
I paused before I answered her question. When I had undressed, ready to go to bed last night, I had taken a moment to fully examine my body in Potter's form. I had to admit that he was in decent physical shape. A bit on the lanky side, perhaps. And I wondered how his Muggle family were treating him in recent summers, compared to how he was thin he was when he first arrived at Hogwarts. Certainly, I was glad that Potter was not as round bellied as Seamus Finnegan, for example.
If he lived to see the downfall of He Who Must Not Be Named, Harry Potter would be a fine catch for any red-blooded young witch. Which reminded me…
"Who is that dark-haired girl giving me 'the look' in the common room today?" I asked, scowling. "She made me feel uncomfortable."
"Oh. Romilda Vane. Yes… Harry mentioned something to me once about how some girls had been eying him up on the Hogwarts Express back in September. I would just keep away from her, Daphne." Hermione grinned. "We certainly don't want her finding out your secret! She might just scream."
The thought of a fangirl kissing me certainly did not appeal to me. "There's another problem. Compared to the Slytherin common room… Gryffindors are so noisy!" I protested.
"Well, not always. It's better now that Fred and George are no longer at Hogwarts…"
"It's makes a welcome change for no pupils to be playing political or social status games around me." I smiled. "But it's so bright through the common room windows when the sun is shining! We get no natural light in the dungeons."
Hermione nodded as she rubbed her hands together, keeping the blood circulating. "So that's why you squinted when we were in the common room at midday. Anything else you want to go over now?"
I habitually pursed my lips for a moment. Then I realised that my lips were now thinner, and that Potter would not do what I was doing. "Yes… Pardon me for my curiosity… But what is the deal between you and Ron at present?" I put to Granger.
"Oh… Ron's making himself look foolish by playing around with Lavender. From what I gather from Harry, Ron and Lavender don't seem to actually do much other than snuggling up together and kissing. It's stupid. Ron can do better for himself…"
"…by hooking up with you?" I put to her.
Hermione's interlocked hands froze. "I…um. Well, it's up to Ron who he kisses. I'm just his friend."
I actually gave a short laugh. "I was at the Yule Ball too, you know. I saw how he was looking at you and Viktor Krum. He was jealous. I overheard the Gryffindor girls talk about how he upset you later that night. And yet, two years later…, you still fancy Ron Weasley! You are now jealous of Lavender Brown!"
Hermione turned her face away from me – but she was still not able to hide the fact that she was turning red.
"You two need to have your heads knocked together, if you and Ron can't sort yourselves out and tell each other how you feel!" I challenged her.
I saw her lips tremble. Hermione took a deep breath, then made a show of looking at her watch.
"Gosh! Is that the time? I think… I think we need to be getting back now, 'Harry'," she told me.
I chuckled. "You're sidestepping your own problems, Hermione."
She sniffed. "Harry doesn't talk to me about how I may or may not feel about Ron recently."
"Maybe Harry does not feel comfortable talking to you about your feelings, given that he keeps seeing his best two friends bickering," I pointed out. "And I'm not the real Harry, am I? I'm an outsider to your circle, so I've less reason to hold back. As I've said, I intend to be a Gryffindor for only as I need to be."
Hermione bit her lip. I took that to mean she was thinking over my words. She didn't verbally respond, but instead cancelled the privacy spell, then walked over to the door and opened it. She checked outside and nodded in satisfaction. Still no one else around, then.
"Let's get heading back, shall we?" she declared. Just a little too eagerly. "I'll run my updated test by you tomorrow, Daphne. I want to you to think and react just as Harry will, for as long as we have you."
I sighed, knowing that the walk back would be largely a silent one...