This new story is a response to Final Master X2's Harry Potter Challenge. I have been wanting to do a gender change fic for a while now but have always shied away from it due to the existance of fics like Branchwraith's brilliant Season of Change and the equally wonderful offering by Nemesis13, Another Day in the Life. I just hope that I can pay tribute to the genre and that I don't screw it up too badly.

For this challenge James and Lily Potter had to be alive and the Boy Who lived had to have a sibling. Other than that and the whole turning into a girl thing I have a pretty good deal of latitude here so let's list out the active AU changes.

1. Voldemort is dead. Really dead. Deceased. He is no more. He has shuffled off his mortal coil.

For some reason I really want to start singing about lumberjacks here.

2. The Potters weren't killed and the Longbottoms weren't tortured into insanity.

3. Sirius Black was not disowned by his father and has acceded to the position of Lord Black on his parent's death.

There are others but those are the three main one's to keep in mind.

Now there will be some adventure but this is mainly a story of friendship and love. Let's face it, this is going to be shameless fluff and I am in no way going to apologise for it. Femslash is the order of the day and those of you who were dismayed by me dumping Hermione in Silent World will be glad to know that our favourite Gryffindor bookworm is going to play a major part here.

The rating is T, so if you're expecting graphic sex scenes ... well ... don't. This isn't because I have any moral objections to them it's just that I am truly horrible at writing them. Properly pants. So knowing my limitations I've decided to do what I do best and simply avoid it.

Right. Off we go then.

The Potterverse is still JKR's and I'm still working. Damn it.

DtR xx.

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Fortunate Son?

Chapter 1. Changing Man

Far above the pitch Harry potter felt the breeze against his face as he gripped his Nimbus 2000 broom lightly in his pale, slender hands and smiled with genuine pleasure. He drifted on the warm air currents in a lazy, looping figure of eight simply allowing the light wind to push him along with no extraneous effort on his part. Up here, away from the pressures of his exams and the expectations of his family, he felt truly free. Free from his loving but overbearing parents and their not so subtle hints that he should be a better student, or a better seeker, or a better son. Not that he was bad at any of those things. He just didn't excel at them. In all honesty he was simply average. His grades in school were good but not great, his performance at quidditch was decent but not exceptional and his connection with his parents was okay but not special. He was a totally average Fourteen year old boy, and while that might be okay for some, for the fabled 'Boy who Lived', it was simply not good enough. Not for his mother and father, not for his professors and not for the wizarding world in general. Not by a long way. The only people it was good enough for was his sister, Rose and his best friend Neville.

Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom had been friends since before they could walk or talk. They had grown up together in the aftermath of the great wizarding war, which had been ended by Harry's, completely unconscious and unremembered (by him at least) defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort. It was a friendship built on common ground. Two shy, quiet, mild mannered and even tempered boys finding pleasure in the simplicity of nature. Neville's love of plants and Harry's love of flowers and cute fluffy animals led the pair of them to revel in the extensive gardens around both of their homes and in their own company. Born on the same day to best friends, they had been inseperable as toddlers and had only grown closer with time. To their mothers Lily and Alice it was a source of wonder and amusement, to their fathers James and Frank it was cause for concern that the boys were not spending their time in more manly pursuits as they once had. To Harry's little sister, however, they were simply perfect. Well almost perfect. There was only one thing that she would change about them that would have made them even better.

While in class Harry's daydreaming tendancies had only got him some poor marks and the occasional detention, in the middle of a quidditch match, the consequences could be a little more serious. Well, as far as most of his Housemates were concerned, anyway. He saw a flash of blonde hair from the corner of his eye as he realised, too late, that Draco had spotted the snitch and was already half way to the fluttering, golden ball. Harry pushed the nose of his broom downwards and took off in a thrilling, intense and downright dangerous vertical dive after his opponent. It would have been incredibly impressive if he had started a bit earlier and managed to actually pass the other boy and catch the snitch but he was too late. He had got distracted, as happened all too often, and today Draco Malfoy's team emerged victorious. Slytherin had won both the match and the cup and Harry knew he was in for an uncomfortable evening in Gryffindor Tower.

"Congratulations Draco. Good game."

Harry held out his hand to the smirking blonde and was not even slightly surprised when the other boy sneered and didn't take it but smiled superciliously and remarked.

"The better man won 'Pansy'. As usual."

He shrugged and ignored the insult before turning and silently following his team to the locker room to change. His placid response and actions only earned him jeers, catcalls and cries of 'poofter' from, not only the Slytherins, but also some of his own House as well. It was nothing new. Most of the school looked at his close relationship with Neville and thought he was gay by now. He wasn't but he didn't want to correct those assumptions. Harry may not have been gay but Neville was and he wasn't about to let his best friend face that particular stigma all on his own. So he shouldered his Nimbus, took the insults and the jinxes and headed for the showers, which he knew would be deserted by now. His team mates may not give him as much grief as everyone else did but they still didn't want to shower with a suspected homo.

Freshly scrubbed and dressed in clean clothes, Harry left the locker room and was almost immediately engulfed in a warm, sweet smelling embrace. He inhaled the aroma of coconut shampoo and the light cologne of his best friend as he returned the hug just as warmly.

"Hey Nev. Miss me did you?"

"Always sweetie."

He snuggled into his taller friend and smiling, chuckled into the boy's wide, well muscled shoulder.

"You know that this kind of thing doesn't exactly help the rumours about us, don't you."

"And yet, you still continue."

"Well you're just so comfy."

"Prat."

From her position behind the stands the auburn haired, twelve year old Rose Potter watched her brother and the boy that she considered her other brother leave for the castle arm in arm and clutched her book tightly to her chest. She had liberated this particular tome from the restricted section of the library by persuading a Seventh year Ravenclaw girl to use her pass in the noble pursuit of knowledge. It had taken a while but, after a prolonged campaign of attrition, the older girl had finally succumbed to her tearful eyes, pleading looks and obvious thirst to improve her academic performance. Of course that was all complete rubbish. Rose was quite possibly the most gifted and intelligent young witch to ever pass through the gates of the famous school, even giving the great Hermione Granger a run for her money, despite the three year age gap. But she had wanted this book badly and had used every trick in her extensive mental arsenal to acquire it. She smiled a secret smile and hugged the book to her once more. Morphing the Unmorphable - The Theory and Practice of Ancient Magick.

Rose's first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had not been what you would call an overwhelming success. Even though she had been studying for years before she had arrived here and had easily aced every class that she took, nobody, not even her professors, had really warmed to the girl. The youngest Potter may have had her mother's intelligence in abundance, but she had also inherited her father's penchant for breaking the rules as well as his legendary temper. A temper which she displayed on a regular basis. After not quite three weeks into her first term even Ginny Weasley, the undisputed queen of the dreaded bat-bogey hex, had been seen to be cautiously avoiding the diminutive, green eyed fire cracker. The downside was that Rose didn't have any friends whatsoever, the upside was that nobody, but nobody, talked shit about her brother or Neville anywhere where they thought that she might overhear them. Well not after the Michael Corner incident anyway. That boy had spent nearly a week in the hospital wing having two layers of clothing and his broken wand slowly and uncomfortably removed from a very sensitive part of his anatomy. She had no regrets. The nasty great gobshite had deserved every second of his pain for humiliating Harry and Neville.

Not long now, she thought stroking the rare volume in her hands, and she would be able to help all three of them. For a little while at least.

Unknown to the Potter siblings or their friend a second pair of eyes watched the progress of the two boys across the playing field. From their vantage point in the third floor window seat, chocolate coloured eyes peered out from beneath a wild, bushy brown fringe and Hermione Granger put her elbows on her thighs, cradled her chin in her hands and sighed deeply. If only she could have that kind of courage. For any student to be so open and so out in the, frankly, backwards culture of the wizarding community was, in itself, pretty brave but for the scions of two such well known and famous families to be doing it was even more incredible. She considered, not for the first time, that she should have chosen differently when the sorting hat offered her the choice between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. As much as she wanted to get to know and befriend these two two quiet, sensitive, brave young men she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She was afraid to. Afraid of the consequences. She had heard the girls in her dorm talking and it seemed that wizards hated gay people almost as much as they hated muggles, technology and know it alls. If Hermione were to support Harry and Neville then she would be labelled, not incorrectly as it happened, with that same brush, and being a gay, muggle know it all her life would become even more unbearable than it already was. If that were possible. No, courage was definitely not her strong suit. She should have chosen Ravenclaw.

After the fiasco of the quidditch match, the disapointment of the end of year exam results and the sullen atmosphere at the Gryffindor table during the final feast, Harry couldn't wait to find his little sister and head for the Hogwart's Express. The prospect of a summer at home, relaxing in his garden and just hanging out with Nev and Rosie had never been so appealing and he was almost quivering with excitement as he climbed into the horseless carriage for the trip to Hogsmeade station.

"Hello beautiful."

"Hi Nev."

Both the Potter children responded together.

"He was obviously talking to me Harry."

"Yeah right. I am so much prettier than you, Petal."

Rose snorted in amusement at her older brother and giggled as she thought to herself that in about two week's time he would probably be right, but as of right this minute she wasn't going to let him get away with it. She punched him in the arm and stuck her tongue out.

"Arse face."

"Ladies, ladies, my mistake. What I clearly meant to say was; Hello beautifuls."

"Well that's better."

The giggling trio were soon hunting up and down the platform for a secluded and relatively empty carriage on the express train as none of them particularly wanted to have to deal with their peers today. It turned out that they needn't have worried as nobody really seemed to want to sit with either the school gaylords or interfere with them, especially if they were with their over protective, psychotic little sister. For once, it looked as if Harry and Neville were going to recieve no visitors at all. Even Draco Malfoy and his thugs weren't that stupid. Ten minutes into the journey, however, the door slid open and a bushy brunette mane of hair attached to a perfectly uniformed Hemione Granger entered the cabin and stood fidgeting in embarrassment.

"Sorry to interrupt ... um ... do you mind if I ... join you. The girls are being ... um ... I mean ..."

"Please Miss Granger. You are most welcome."

Neville looked over to his suddenly blushing best friend and gave a quick smirk.

"Isn't that right Harry?"

"Um yes. Um. 'Lo Mi'ney."

For some reason this pretty, bookish girl always reduced Scion Potter to a bumbling, stuttering fool.

While Neville was shaking his head at the mumbling, black haired boy, Hermione turned to face the other, unsmiling occupant of the small carriage. The tiny terror of Gryffindor Tower was staring hard at her and she suddenly felt the need to visit the bathroom. The silence stretched for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds.

"You can stay."

With an audible sigh of relief Hermione sat and pulled out her copy of Hogwarts - A History while the newly released Crookshanks stalked around the cabin before jumping on to the lap of a surprised, but delighted Harry Potter. He loved animals of all kinds and they were clearly just as enamoured with him. This was amply demonstrated by the ginger half kneazle purring loudly under the attentions of nice smelling, young, human male whose lap he was currently kneading before turning around, yawning comically and settling in for his fifth nap of the day.

Harry woke the next day refreshed and excited. He quickly showered before heading down the stairs and out to the garden to water his much neglected flower beds. A sense of peace descended on him as he worked diligently weeding, watering and talking to the multitude of various brightly coloured blooms. Done with school for another year, he was home at last. As he worked the sun began to rise higher and the first of the morning butterflys fliittered over and landed lightly on his nose, spreading it's bright blue patterned wings for his inspection and pleasure. Trying not to startle his small visitor Harry slowly began to smile and turned to face the glory of the new day.

Inside the kitchen James Charlus Potter shook his head in bemusement as he stared at the scene of his only son holding a bunch of flowers and talking to a butterfly. He loved Harry but he didn't understand him in the least. The boy was just so strange. He was quieter even than his mother and held not even the slightest twinge of the explosive temper that plagued both himself and, on occasion, his wife. Harry seemed to divide his time between tending to plants, playing with the various wild animals that randomly appeared wherever he was and hanging out with Neville or Rosie. He displayed little of that adventurous spirit that the young James and his friends had, preferring to stay close to home unless a trip with the potential to discover a new flower was on the cards. Still at least he loved to fly.

Nothing had pleased the former seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps and England more than seeing his two year old son chasing Sirius in his animagus form around the house on a toy broom. It had been a birthday present from his godfather and had been repaired many times over the following years. The only thing that had given James more pleasure than going flying with his son was the birth of his and Lily's daughter. He and Harry loved to fly and the two of them had spent many happy hours when he was younger just racing around the grounds laughing as they battled the oncoming wind, performing death defying stunts and facing the wrath of his frightened mother. As the boy had grown older and quidditch had become an issue James had quickly realised that, as much as he loved flying, the game held no interest for Harry. He went through the motions, learned the required moves and was even good enough to make seeker on the Gryffindor team, but there was no enthusiasm. No love. That pained him. James had dreamed of a mighty legacy of quidditch playing Potters to take the wasps to victory after victory. A dream that would never be fulfilled, he mused unhappily, as he watched the slight boy chasing a dozen butterflys across the open lawn.

"What in Merlin's name is he doing now."

"Leave him be James. He's happy."

Lily smiled at her baby boy laughing as he ran arms spread to the sky. She loved that her little Harry was so sweet and so sensitive. It was almost like having two daughters. She was well aware of what people thought about Harry and Neville and the rumours that surrounded them but the red headed, muggle born witch couldn't care less. After having thought that he was dead at the hands of that beast Voldemort, as long as he was healthy and happy her son could be in love with a turnip and she wouldn't mind. Now if only he would improve his academic performance a little in areas other than herbology and magical creatures, she would be truly happy.

Upstairs the girl who was actually born her daughter was, unknowingly, working on a way to give her mother exactly what she wanted for rest of the summer. In more ways than one. Rose had spent months finding exactly the spell she had wanted and then many more months honing it, practicing it and researching the best way to carry out her plan. It needed to be done both wordlessly and wandlessly and this had presented her with a significant challenge, even for someone as clever and as talented as her. She was still only twelve and a half, after all. But all the pain and the practice was paying off and now she was close. Very close. Rose grinned like a lunatic as she closed in on her heart's desire.

July the Thirtieth saw the Potter's modest cottage full to bursting point with friends and family for Harry and Neville's Fifteenth birthday party. The food was delicious and plentiful, the butterbeer and some stronger drinks for the more adult flowed like water and the presents were a mixture of sweet, thoughtful and, in the case of the set of weights for Harry from his father, extremely hopeful. It was a fun night for all even raising a smile or two from the dour old Frank Longbottom and, incredibly, his always grumpy mother.

A grinning Sirius Black was entertaining everyone with the description of his latest exploits in the murky world of wizarding politics and seemed to be holding all of the adults enthralled as he spun his tale of deception and pranking amongst the elite of the Wizangamot. Rose realised that if she was going to do this thing it had to be now. She silently thanked her favourite 'uncle' for his distraction and moved, unseen, to the two birthday boys quietly talking in the corner.

"Um ... Harry, Nev. I've got another gift for you."

"You didn't have to do that Petal, these were more than enough."

Her brother indicated the fluffy white bath robes, embroidered with HP and NL that her parents had picked out for him and Neville in her name.

"They were from all of us. This one's just from me. Well come on then. It's upstairs. Come on."

She shepherded the boys up the stairs and into her bedroom, taking a moment to wince slightly at her stuffed unicorns, which were still out on display and in full view of her brother and god brother. Rose muttered under her breath as she reclaimed Hornigril (her favourite pink stuffed unicorn) from a pouting Harry and arranged the three of them in a cross legged triangle around a large bowl in the centre of the room.

"Isn't that a spell magnification crystal?"

"It is isn't."

Bugger. Why did these two plant obsessed idiots have to grow a brain now.

"Yes alright. It's a spell magnification crystal but we're not going to be using it for that."

Neville squinted at the contents of the bowl and tried to remember any other possible uses of the big, mottled, yellow stone. Luckily his best friend helped him out by voicing the same concern.

"What are we using it for then?"

Harry asked with a confused look on his face.

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed in annoyance. This was dangerousy close to being out of control now and the adults might come looking for them soon. Even uncle Padfoot's stories couldn't go on all night. She decided that she was going to have to play dirty after all and resorted to the two well worn techniques that were guaranteed to get the boys to do what she wanted. She rose, stamped her little foot and turned on the waterworks.

"D ... d ... don't you ...w ... want your present? I ... I w ... worked so hard on it ... a ... and ... and ... now you d ... don't ... e ... even ... want it."

Harry leapt to his feet and pulled his (supposedly) distraught sister to him.

"I'm sorry little Petal. Please don't cry. We didn't mean to upset you, of course we want our present. Don't we Nev?"

Neville looked solemn and nodded his head vigorously. Rose smirked into her brother's robes and thanked Merlin that Harry and Nev were a pair of too trusting simpletons. Sometimes life was easy and sometimes you had to help it along a bit. She was very good at that. Once they were all seated back in front of the bowl she started again.

"Now, put both hands on the crystal and close your eyes."

"But what sort of spell is it?"

Neville was asking questions again. Damn him.

"It's going to make you look different. Um ... I mean better. Temporarily anyway"

She recovered quickly.

"What like a glamour?"

"Yes like a bloody glamour. Now put your hands on crystal and close your sodding eyes."

The boys swiftly complied. They had learned long ago that it wasn't wise to upset Rosie too much and they could tell that she was getting ratty. Besides they were curious about their present now.

The auburn haired task master smirked at them briefly and began her spell. It built slowly drawing on the magic from inside the little witch alone at first before spreading out to utilise the residue from other magical devices scattered about her room. At the closed door to the bedroom the spell's tendrils were supposed to stop. Unfortunately for the two young men grasping the crystal Rose had made a tiny miscalculation in her arithmancy. Instead of raising the perimeter to the power of two, she had raised it by the power of twenty. This was not good. This mistake in her spellwork was about to achieve something that had never been done before in the whole history of magic and the consequences would change her family forever.

The spell continued to grow drawing power from the whole cottage and all of the witches and wizards and magical items inside. It then pushed on through the gardens until, finally, it reached the ward line. The very impressive, very expensive and very powerful wards that the Potters had set up to prevent an attack from any remaining Voldemort supporters. The ancient spell drained them in seconds before rebounding back into Rose and hitting the magnification crystal.

The cottage went black and there was, what sounded like, a loud crash of thunder. Everyone inside dropped to the floor unconscious.

The youngsters woke first and looked at each other in wonder and excitement.

"I did it! I did it! Woo Hoo!"

Rose was strutting around the room with her fists in the air.

"Holy shit Harry you're a girl. Wait why's my voice so high?"

Neville ran into the bathroom and found a large mirror. He took one look at himself, vomited on the floor and fainted dead away. Harry followed what he assumed from their clothing had to be his best friend with a growing sense of dread in heart and the sound of his sister's hysterical, delighted laughter ringing in his ears.

He barely even noticed the prone form of his best friend as he stepped, gingerly in front of the full length mirror and stared at the indescribable vision that now faced him. Staring back from the glass was the most stunningly beautiful girl he had ever seen, though her lovely face was marred slightly both by the lightning shaped scar on her forehead and the open mouthed expression of total shock. His own emerald green eyes gazed back out at him from a delicate, heart shaped and very familiar face half hidden beneath voluminous, coal black curls.

"Holy shit."

Harry exclaimed softly before passing out in a heap on the floor next to Neville.

Rose looked in from the doorway and huffed. She had been looking forward to spending some quality time wtih her new sisters tonight and was not at all pleased that they had spoiled that by selfishly going and fainting.

"Pussies."

There were thumping footsteps on the stairs and her bedroom door was nearly ripped off it's hinges by an extremely worried and extremely furious red headed witch, who was now staring in disbelief at the two very unconscious and very obviously female bodies on her daughter's bathroom floor.

"Rose Lily Potter. What have you done!"

Turning to face her mother Rose put on her most innocent face and pointed to her own chest.

"Who me?"

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I'll be interested to see how you guys respond to this one. This is my first response to a challenge and I hope that I'm up to the ... well challenge.

As usual I write for me but reviews are always nice. They give me warm fuzzy feelings and make my dull, horrible job just that little bit more bearable.

DtR xx.