Author's Note: I'm using Grammarly (product placement) for all language-fixing purposes. I realise my writing is a strange mix of British and American English but I'm going for British since it's the original one and the one I have officially learnt.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is his own person and doesn't belong to anyone, don't try telling him otherwise.

Harry is a She!

Chapter 1

Deliberately Delirious

Harry woke up. Somewhere in the room people were talking in hushed voices. Were they the ones who woke him? No.

It was the pain. The damn, blood-boiling, bone-crushing pain that overwhelmed his senses and made his brain want to drip out his nostrils.

It was the reason he lost consciousness in the first place and now it woke him. Not for long, though. Soon he drowned in pain again and slipped into the comforting arms of Morpheus.

He lay in bed. That was the first thing he noticed. He felt all groggy and didn't want to move. There were a few blissful moments before other stimuli reached him. The heat of the pillow, the sticky wetness of his sweat and the lingering pain in his tormented body. It didn't even compare to what he went through but it still bothered him.

He moved his arm experimentally. It didn't fall off. Good enough. Emboldened, he rose from the bed onto shaky legs. There was something wrong... he couldn't quite put a finger on it but it was there. The wrongness.

"Mr Potter, back to bed, now!" Madame Pomfrey scolded him and immediately began checking his state. She asked him very weird questions, like "How are you adapting?" or "Does it feel off?" or "The shock must be overwhelming, maybe a Calming Draught?"

"What is going on?" he finally cut in. She looked down at him with concern and hesitation.

"Mr Potter, what do you remember?"

"Cedric... he..." he couldn't say it.

"Definitely a Calming Draught, then." she swiftly fed him something vaguely liquidish. "Now, the last thing you remember?"

His mind settled into an odd kind of peace. Now he could summon the memories without freaking out.

"Wormtail killed Cedric. Voldemort came back. We duelled and... something happened. My parents were there and Cedric too. I took his body back. He asked for it. And then... Professor Moody tried to kill me?" he frowned.

"An imposter, not the real Alastor Moody." she corrected. "And then?"

"I dunno, must've passed out, I guess."

She nodded. "Do you feel like something is off? Not like it should be?"

He swallowed. "What is it? Am I dying?"

"No, nothing as grave. But serious nonetheless. Take this" she handed him another Calming Draught. "and go to the shower."

He planned to do so anyway, so he listened. Having finally awakened he became suspicious and didn't actually drink the potion. He left it outside the stall just in case and began undressing.

There it was again. The feeling of wrongness. There was something off about the way clothes lay on him. Did he grow? Shrink maybe? He didn't know.

He threw the shirt away and pulled off the pants, underwear and socks in one swift motion. His muscles were still sore and he really didn't want to move any more than necessary.

He stepped under the shower and let the water envelop him. It spilt on his head, run down his neck and chest and finally down his legs.

That's when it hit him. The wrongness. It wasn't about what he felt but what he didn't.

He would've screamed if not for the Calming Draught. In fact, it made him want to drink the next one as soon as possible.

Only after the potion did he dare inspect the damage. Slowly, he bent and looked down onto himself. For his entire life, he saw only one thing in that spot. Now, there was something else. It most definitely were not his male parts. He reached down and cautiously nudged it with a finger. He felt his own touch. It was a part of him... but how?

He quickly retracted his hand. His heart pounded in his chest. His...?

He glanced into a mirror. Green eyes, lightning scar. Those were his. Carefully, he let his eyes wander further. There was the scar from the Basilisk on his right arm. The Dark-Mark-shaped wound cut into his left. He turned around. The burn from dragon fire still adorned his back. But something else was different...

No, not his chest. It was something obvious to look for, but he didn't have that. It was his silhouette. It was more... slim? He has always been scrawny. Now, it didn't show. More like skinny. And apparently, he had a waist now. He looked up to see his face. Down on his body. It was the most bizarre experience. Like his head was replaced onto another body. But it was his. Somehow.

But how?

That was the question he pondered as he continued his shower, trying not to touch his non-male bits too much.

Was it even possible to switch genders? Why hasn't he heard about it? Maybe it was an illusion? Or a variation of Polyjuice Potion. Did someone prank him? If so, why right after Voldemort's return? Was it the Twins' idea of trying to cheer him up? If so, he was going to kill them!

When he returned to his hospital bed, the Headmaster was already waiting for him.

"What is it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter," said Pomfrey. "The Headmaster was just leaving."

"Actually..."

"It wouldn't do to disturb my patient."

"As I was saying, I came to explain things to Harry."

"He only just found out! It's not the right time!"

"On the contrary, it's the damn right time for someone to tell me what the hell is going on!" Harry burst. "Or will you just give me another Calming Draught?"

"Sit down, my boy, please." Dumbledore motioned at the chair. Harry noted with relief that he hasn't been called 'my girl' or something equally weird. "My understanding is that you have just discovered your new... condition?"

Harry nodded solemnly.

"What are your thoughts on this?"

"Are you kidding? I need to have it reversed as soon as possible!"

"Well, my boy, that is the problem..."

"Don't tell me..."

"You see, Harry..."

"NO!" he bellowed. "No! You're not going to back off like that! You cannot!"

"There's nothing I can do."

"You're Albus Freaking Dumbledore! The greatest wizard of the world! Just reverse the damn spell!"

"It is not that easy."

"No? Just use a damn Finite! Like this!" he took his wand and cast the spell on himself.

It didn't work. He started casting it over and over, waving frantically. "Finite! Finite! Finite!"

"It is not going to work." Dumbledore said calmly.

"So it's Polyjuice? Then it will just wear off! Good, good..." he murmured.

Dumbledore waited until Pomfrey gave Harry another Calming Draught, then said:

"It is an effect of the ritual Voldemort used. I managed to interrogate Crouch Jr before the Dementors Kissed him. The bone of the father. The flesh of the servant. The blood of the enemy. From the father, the ritual took the base structure, foundations for the new body. From the servant, it took the matter to build it. And from you, it took the final form of the body. Our blood carries life. It determines who and what we are. It seems that you lost the part of yourself that made you the man you were. Voldemort took it from you to use as his own. In a way, he is the man you were supposed to be."

Harry stared. A long moment passed as he tried to process what he heard.

"So, you're trying to say that Voldemort stole my bits?"

"I wouldn't put it like that..."

"Oh, God! You actually mean that! Does that mean...? Oh no!"

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked patiently.

"It's literally like he's using my bits every time he...!"

"I do not think he is doing that." Dumbledore interrupted.

"It does not make it better!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs. It came out more like a screech. "I. WANT. MY. BITS. BACK!"

"I do not think the Calming Draughts are going to help anymore." Dumbledore mused.

He nearly chased the Headmaster out of the Hospital Wing. Only after three hours of waiting for 'the Polyjuice' to wear off and approximately a hundred assurances from Madam Pomfrey that she really couldn't do anything, only then did he leave the Wing himself.

Where did he go? First, he tracked down the Weasley Twins.

One of them saw him and tried to say something, but Harry hit him in the jaw before he could get a word out.

"Harry?" the other was shocked. "What's..." he got hit too. "Uncool."

"Tell me what you've done." Harry demanded.

"We 'ave don' a lot in 'ur lives." the first Twin said, massaging his jaw.

"What have you done to me?!"

"We never did anything to you, Harry. We wouldn't." the other said.

Harry scowled at them but decided not to say anymore. It wouldn't do to have it spread. Better if no one knew.

"Harry, what's wrong?" the second Twin asked, but Harry turned and left them without a word.

It took them three days, but eventually, Ron and Hermione found him. Well, maybe not found. More like they heard people complaining about him chasing them away from the Library then they facepalmed at not thinking about it earlier.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Well, Hermione, it's the Library. I'm reading."

"Then why do people say you scare them away?"

"Dunno, I guess they don't like reading." he shrugged.

"Haaarry." she pleaded.

"Whaaaat?"

"Can't you just tell me what's going on?"

He hesitated. On one hand, seriously no one should know. On the other, they were his friends. Maybe they could help him?

"Okay, I'll tell you. But not here."

They went out onto the Grounds and the Library sighed in relief.

Explaining it to anyone would be difficult, especially since he didn't want to believe it himself.

"So, long story short, Voldemort stole my bits." he said simply.

Ron started choking with laughter and Hermione just seemed puzzled.

"He did what?"

"Stole my bits."

"What?"

"My bits. You know."

"No, I don't."

"I mean, my male parts."

"I know what bits are. I meant what he did." she said in exasperation.

"Used some dark mumbo jumbo to get a new body using my blood."

"And that somehow took away your bits?"

"Yeah. And now I've got the other bits."

"You mean, female genitalia?"

"I guess so. Never seen those before, but I guess it must be it."

"You never...?" she covered her mouth to contain the shock.

"Who do you take me for? I'm not shagging girls left and right!"

"That not what I meant! There should have been a lesson at elementary school."

Harry gaped.

"A lesson when the teacher shows you their bits?"

"NO!" Hermione looked terrified at the notion. "Come on Harry! Books! Of course I mean books! There should have been a book explaining it! With pictures and stuff!"

Harry went silent. That was when they noticed Ron was still choking, now turning blue.

"We have to do the CPR!" Hermione panicked.

"Was it in a book too?"

"Don't tell me you don't know it!"

"Well, I haven't been the best student, okay?!"

"Just... just breathe into his mouth and I will press his chest!"

"What!?"

Suddenly, Ron tumbled to the ground. Hermione lay him on his back and began pressing on his chest.

"Breathe into his mouth! He needs air!" she commanded.

"How the hell do I do that?!"

"Pretend you're kissing him and breathe out!"

"I'm not going to kiss him! You do it!"

"What! Do you want him to die?!"

"You're the girl here, you do the kissing!"

"You are a girl now too! It's no excuse!"

"I've only been a girl for a few hours! I'm not ready!"

"God damn it, Harry! Just do it!"

"No!" Ron sprang up, hitting his head into Hermione's. "I'm not going to kiss my best mate!"

"Oh, thank God, Ron, are you okay?" she asked, massaging her forehead.

Thankfully, CPR is not a way to help a choking person. Also, Ron had enough experience choking on food that he could handle himself.

They spent the last days of the school year in the Library, searching for anything even remotely helpful. Unfortunately, it was not there.

Those days have been pretty awkward. Hermione tried to give Harry pointers on how-to-girl. Harry was trying not to hear it, while Ron was trying to hear it, despite Hermione's best effort to avoid him hearing anything. Obviously, they all failed. Except for Harry, he really did not hear it.

And he was soon going to regret it. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

The ride home was not nearly as awkward as the Library, provided that the Trio ignored the blindingly neon elephant in the room.

The event worth noting happened a bit later, at the platform. Afterwards, Harry would not understand why he behaved the way he did. Maybe he was just irritable from all the bullshit he had to endure lately. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe both. Maybe that's how it feels to be a female. Maybe not. How the hell was he supposed to know?

Several people were waitng for them at King's Cross, which was understandable. Some of them seemed completely out of place, which still was understandable. They were wizards after all. Some of those who waited for Harry were not related to him in any way. This was understandable since his family was bloody dead and those people acted as his bodyguards. Not that he thought they could save him, with Voldemort and whatnot, but he really did need some bodyguards, with Voldemort and whatnot.

It was all perfectly understandable.

What he couldn't understand, he couldn't even begin to imagine, was why on Earth did those morons decide it was a good idea to threaten his relatives?! It only made things worse!

"...so be good to Harry, or else..." he caught Remus say.

"What are you, nuts?!" he shrieked. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" he placed himself between Remus and the aforementioned relatives. "I live with them! You think you can threaten them! ? How do you imagine it will help?! You're not there to see what happens! You're not there to help nor to judge if it's even needed! Nor is it your place to do any of that!" he poked his ex-Professor in the chest for good measure. "Bloody wizards, have you no sense?! If you're not happy with how I live, you should've found me another home, not threaten people like a bunch of Death Eaters! What happens between me and my relatives is our business, and ours only!" With that, he stepped back and ushered the stunned Dursleys into the car.

"I... I am sorry, Harry." Remus managed to say. "If you need anything, owl me anytime."

"Not a bloody chance." Harry spat, still not quite ready to contain himself.

He boarded the car next to his cousin and they drove away, leaving Remus, the Real Moody and Mr Weasley to their thoughts.

Harry honestly had no idea what possessed him to blow up like that and later he got really embarrassed about it. Especially since his voice began to break and his screams turned into squeals. His mutation only just finished and now it was reverting!

On the other hand, it seemed like his 'family' appreciated it somewhat. Or maybe they got terrified of him since he shut down three adult freaks, who were quite intimidating. Anyhow, they got better. Not good enough to be civil to him, no. That would be too much. They just ignored him politely (or pretended to be dead, depending on your interpretation). He wasn't being shouted at. No one gave him any chores. They didn't chase him out of the kitchen and ignored him during meals. They never served him but didn't bother him for serving himself either. When he thanked for the food, Aunt Petunia nodded solemnly. Life wasn't bad.

Except when it was. Remember when I said Harry was going to regret stuff? That happens now.

He did not listen to Hermione explaining things, because he was too embarrassed to think of himself in this context. Unluckily for him, 'things' included the menstrual cycle and what to do when you get your period.

Harry clenched his jaw as his entrails clenched themselves as if trying to turn into extrails.

'Why the hell does it hurt so much?!' he thought. 'Should've read that book Hermione talked about.'

(Or that's what his thoughts would've looked like if you cut out all the internal screaming and most of the curses, which I did. You're welcome.)

Harry crawled out of bed and down the staircase (do not try this at home) and somehow managed to get into the kitchen. There was a cupboard full of medicine. He checked the labels. Some vitamins, gastric support, something for diarrhoea, constipation, diabetes, antidepressants, cough syrup, bandages, painkillers... Bingo! He took a handful of the last ones and laid back on the floor.

It was both too cold and too hot. The drugs didn't work fast enough. He was hungry. He didn't want to cook. He was uncomfortable on the floor. He didn't want to get up. The bloody painkillers didn't work fast enough! He wanted to pee. He didn't want to see his bits again. It was still too bloody weird. He wanted ice cream. His mouth was dry. He wanted Hermione to be here if only to tell her she was right. But she would help him get through this anyway, wouldn't she?

One Week Earlier:

"If you don't want to listen, fine! Don't listen! Just don't call me when you curl up out of pain, because I won't come!" she shouted and stormed out of the Library, crying.

He hated his life.

Finally, the painkillers kicked in. He was a bit drowsy, but he could move again. He had a mission now: get the book Hermione had been talking about.

He could've gone to a bookshop. He probably should've done so but it was embarrassing and he wasn't thinking straight. He figured the book should be somewhere in the house. He did go to school, after all, and he should have it somewhere, even if he did not remember the lesson. He did miss quite a lot of those.

He went back to his room and started rummaging through his things. It didn't take long, since he never had much. Obviously, he did not possess the sacred book. Next, he dove into the pile of Dudley's things that was always taking space in his not so big room. Now he was grateful for his own laziness. If he'd ever thrown out the pile, he wouldn't have a chance to find that book now. Not that it mattered, as it soon became apparent that it was not buried anywhere in Dudley's cast-offs.

Now, Harry had a thought. What if he didn't remember the lesson because he never had it? What if Hermione's school did it differently or she just studied ahead? It would mean that he would have it later, had he not gone to Hogwarts.

It would mean Dudley had it. There was a chance he did not throw it away.

Harry sneaked through the corridor, even though the house was empty. He crept up to Dudley's door and slid into the room.

It was amazing.

He has not been there since... he could not remember. But Dudley hadn't had half the things he had there now, including the new PC, the stereo system and the poster covering half the ceiling, showing some woman's many... err, facets.

Harry didn't have time to inspect any of that. He dove straight for the wardrobe, on the bottom of which he knew Dudley kept his textbooks. 'Out of sight, out of mind.' he used to say.

He pulled out a cardboard box that looked about right. Surely enough, there were old school books. Some maths, biology and other bullshit and oh my, an old SE textbook! But before he opened it, something else caught his eye.

It was a leg.

He turned away quickly. It was not right.

Yet... his curiosity was piqued.

He knew what kind of a magazine has a cover like that. There was a reason Dudley had it hidden like this. Not that Harry ever 'read' such a magazine himself. And maybe that was his problem, he wondered. He imagined Dudley would react much differently, had he suddenly turned into a girl. Most likely started messing with his 'facets'. Which probably would've been quite massive, given his current physique... Ugh. Not an image he needed.

He was getting off track. He had to make up his mind quickly, otherwise his cousin might catch him red-handed.

He didn't want to be afraid of his own body, he decided. He needed to get used to the nudity.

He pulled out the magazine and rearranged the textbooks so that no one would be the wiser. He took a look at his loot and that's when Dudley came in.

He hid both papers behind his back.

"Huh?" Dudley said eloquently. "What'ya doin' here?"

"Nothing."

"What nothing? I see you hiddin' somethin'."

Keeping them magazine behind his back, Harry put forward the SE textbook. Incidentally, it was open on a quite visual representation of Harry's current worst fear.

(Hint: It was not Voldemort.)

Dudley laughed at him. "That's what'ya came for? You can get better views in girls' locker-room!" He chortled. "You can have it. Have fun wankin' to it." And he pushed Harry out of the room. "Just don't go in here ever again."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Dud."

"Don't mention it. Seriously, I'll kill you if you do."

Harry run off at that. And that's how he stole his cousin's lewd magazine.

First thing he did after coming to his room was... fall asleep. Nothing felt more important at that moment.

When he woke up again, it was in the dead of the night. He was still a bit drowsy, but conscious enough to notice feeling all icky down... there. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and to the bathroom. Having undressed, he looked at his underwear in bafflement. What the heck was that? Where the hell did it come from?! Setting aside the dirty underwear, he got under the shower.

In the past, he wouldn't dare to do so late in the night, for fear of waking the Dursleys and angering them. Now, he didn't expect them to care. He wondered, why did they change so much? Dudley didn't seem afraid. Were they trying to be civil out of their own goodwill? He never imagined they even knew what it meant. He certainly hadn't learnt it from them.

After returning to his room, he finally opened the book of Sacred Enlightenment. Or sexual education, as the title suggested. It had to contain some kind of explanation for what he was covered with. That, or he sat on a Flobberworm. Which had to have crawled into his pants somehow... It was not a good explanation.

He leafed through it to get a general idea. There were chapters on how to use protection, how there were different sexual orientations and you shouldn't kill people for having the wrong one (but being non-straight was still not okay, it was 1995 after all). There was a discussion of when and how many children you should have. What to do in case of sexual harassment. How to speak of such things in a proper way, which mostly boiled down to: "don't".

And finally, after all that crap, there was a big underlined title "for girls only ". Apparently, boys were supposed to get out of the classroom at that point, or something. Harry didn't know, since he had never actually taken the class (and neither had I).

There he found it. The explanation. Meticulous and lengthy, it talked about the women's monthly cycle, how it was related to hormones, what role it played in reproduction, what consequences there were for the woman involved and finally describing a way to prevent it.

Namely, there was none.

"What?!" he screamed and threw the book across his room. "Fuck no!"

He heard Dudley snore loudly. Nobody reacted to his outburst. Looks like he's been trying to be quiet for no reason at all. And he's done so for years. Fuck.

It was also apparent that the sacred book, which he spent so much time getting, was bloody useless. He didn't steal from Dudley so that there would be no way! He already had a misshapen body, a funny voice, and had to sit while peeing! He was not going to just sit and take it! He was a wizard, for God's sake!

Yes. He was a wizard. He was going to deal with it the wizarding way.

"Diagon Alley, here I come!"

His sudden trip to Diagon Alley ended as soon as he stepped through the door. He simply remembered it was the middle of the night and not the right time for shopping. Having made up his mind, he went back to sleep.

When he finally got up in the morning, then he went to Diagon Alley.

He summoned the Knight Bus per usual (even though it was only his second time). He paid his boarding fee and took a seat. Stan the busman recognized him as Neville (since that's how he introduced himself the last time) and tried to make small talk, but Harry wasn't feeling talkative. They arrived in front of the Leaky Cauldron in no time.

Inside, Harry went straight for the barman.

"Mornin', Mr Potter" Tom greeted him. "What brings you here? A room, maybe?"

"No, thanks. Just passing through. But you could recommend an apothecary if it's not a problem."

"None at all, Mr Potter. Just go to the right behind Cauldrons and Kettles and take the second left. The guy there has anything you can want. Says he can even cure dragon pox, that crazy geezer!"

So Harry went there. He made sure to don his black robes, so as not to attract too much attention.

He entered the little shop and faced a man I don't feel like describing.

"Can you give me something to prevent period?" he asked in embarrassment. "It's for a friend." he added quickly.

The apothecary looked at him in surprise. "For what?"

"Period." he repeated, hoping the man wouldn't ask him why he needed to cure it.

"What in Merlin's name do you mean, young man?"

"Uhm... you don't know what it is?" he quizzed.

"No." the man frowned. "Please explain."

"Ummm... I've got this friend, you know, she's a girl. She has pains in the stomach, you know. She can't come herself, because she's overwhelmed with pain. It's this time of the month."

"Aaaaaah!" the man exclaimed. "Should've said it was the Lady's Ailment, not use some inscrutable muggle word." he disappeared behind a shelf. "Be back in a minute!"

One minute later:

"There you are." he put a few vials on the counter. "Those are the Lady's Best Friends." he pointed the first vial to the left. "A Painless Convulsion Potion. It stops the pains for a day." he passed to the next one. "A CD Solution. It helps with hygiene."

"CD?" Harry asked.

"Clean and Dry. Don't ask why, I didn't come up with the name. Neither did I create the solution."

"Why not?"

"It's not becoming of a proper wizard to unveil the Lady's Secrets. Thus, I did not." the man explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh... okay."

"Can we go on?" Harry nodded. "There we've got a Temperature Treatment, it does away with the fever."

'What fever?' Harry wondered. 'Did I miss something?'

"This is the Outlet Occludment. The Fluid Dissolver. The Twitch Accelerator and the Twitch Decelerator, for all tastes and needs. And the One-Hour."

Harry didn't understand half of what those things did, but he only asked about the last one.

"The One-Hour?"

"It makes one go through the ailment in one hour."

"Great. That's just what I need. How much is it?"

"Three Galeons a dose."

"Give me a dozen."

"Sure thing." the man packed a box full of vials. "There you go."

Harry gave him the coins.

"Thank you, sir."

"Alway happy to serve. Good day, Miss."

Harry went home and immediately drank a dose of the One-Hour. He did not even notice what the apothecary had called him. It did not seem important at that time.

"Arrrggghhhhhh!"

He made a mistake. A gross mistake. Unforgivable even.

He thought the potion would make him go through the period in an hour. He heard it. He read it on the label. He understood it and believed it to be true.

But he did not imagine it would make him go through 'all' of it at once. Three days of convultions, cramping, sweating, leaking and above all the fucking pain! All three days of suffering condensed into a full hour of living hell!

It began as soon as he downed the 'cure' . And it immediately made him forget the whole damn world. His brain just couldn't work on such overload.

Then, after an eternity of damnation, it stopped. He couldn't even curse the apothecary or his own stupidity. All he could do was lie there, panting. He didn't even remember where he was lying.

Not knowing what to do, he decided to have a snack. He pulled a chocolate bar out of his secret stash under the loose floorboard. That's when he saw it. The magazine. He pulled it out too, intending to go through with his previous resolve.

It felt kind of weird to eat a candy bar while looking through a porn magazine, to say the least. To say more...

I really should not describe the things Harry saw. Thus, I will not. I will say that at one point he dropped his half-eaten candy bar. And that his heart was pounding almost painfully (in light of his immediately previous experience it was kind of pleasant, as far as pains go). I will also say that he did not go through all of it. It made him feel a strange new sensation in his strange new parts. He was kind of afraid of that feeling. And of the fact that he liked it somehow.

All in all, it was a good thing no one had come in on him during the act.

And no, he did not touch himself during that time. Neither did he finish the snack. He did not dare do either of those things. Instead, he went out to get some air.

In the end, he decided it was good to know he was still atracted to women.

Now that Harry was not dying of pain or being delirious from painkillers, he faced another dilema. An unexpected, never encountered before, problem.

He was bored.

Or rather:

He did not know what to do.

Let's try again...

You know, I cannot describe it in one simple sentence. Let's take the longer route.

He was talking to his owl. That's how bad things were. He was mostly complaining about it. It went a little like this:

"Hedwig, are there any letters? No? Too bad. I'm bored to death. Now that Voldemort's back, I expected something would happen! Like, I'd have to do something. Or just hear something. But Dumbledore just told me to stay put, the Dursleys avoid me, not that it's a bad thing, no, but they always gave me stuff to do. Now I don't even do the garden anymore. I just don't like it, okay? Is there nothing I can do?"

And Hedwig just stared and hooted at him, being all like "Dude, you're literally complaining about having freedom. Just do something on your own. I dunno, go out and play with the kids. Or accidentally poison youself. The last time was pretty funny."

At one point it seemed like she got through to him. Or maybe he got bored of talking to an owl. Whichever you think is more probable.

One way or another, he went out to play with the kids.

He was reluctant at first. So were they. But soon enough they realised that Big D and his gang don't mess with this weird, strangely feminine guy, whom they supposedly should remember from elementary school.

I mean, he had an unnervingly high voice which didn't suit him. They couldn't guess from his face whether he was a boy or girl. And he always wore baggy clothes, so no luck there either. But he said he was a boy (in this annoying, girlish voice) and protected them from Big D, so they let him say whatever. None of them were hot on him, so it was just as well.

They mostly played basketball. They would hang out afterwards, occupying benches and fences, drinking and smoking and stuff. Harry didn't really like those things, it made him cough and choke and tasted bad, but he stuck around anyway, just to have something to kill time with.

He soon noticed there were people watching them.

It didn't seem like much at first. Just some random pedestrian. An old lady. A sick man. A little girl. They just passed by in the distance. Sat on a bench near the playground. Fed pidgeons. Read news.

But soon Harry started to become suspicious. They all had an excuse to be there, sure. But they were also watching them. Or, as he ultimately realised, him. They knew him. So they were wizards. They didn't try to kill or kidnap him. Ergo, they were not Death Eaters. Dumbledore must've sent them. Of course. Harry had to be babysat all summer, instead of doing anything remotely useful. That really pissed him off.

He briefly considered pranking them somehow. Make them feel his anger and frustration. But he got a better idea. Why not frustrate them in turn?

First, he tried losing them. It was not easy. Running around, hiding in places, changing clothes and mixing in with the crowd. His new friends thought it was some weird hide-and-seek. Then, they got into their heads that he liked fashion for some reason. At least they didn't think him crazy. No more than they already did.

Long story short, it didn't work. They must've placed some sort of tracking charm on him, which he couldn't Finite, since he was out of school and thus subject to 'Reasonalbe Restritions', my ass.

Then, he tried annoying them. He would spil coffee on them. Leave chewing gum on the walkway for them to step into. Throw banana skins around. Walk straight into them and try to steal their wands. Or walk into them and spill stinky stuffs on them. Or just walk into them to knock them over. Or pierce their balloon if they were a little girl at that time.

He started having fun with this. His new friends thought he was taking some kind of new drug. One of them even asked to have himself hooked up. Harry politely refused.

It was still not working. His annonymous admirers did not give up.

So... Harry came up with a plan.

The plan was briliant and simple.

Just tell them to fucking stop.

So he did. One time, during a basketball match, he left his friends during a break and sat on a bench next to his latest suspect.

He was really hoping he did not screw up and they were a wizard. It would be incredibly embarrasing otherwise.

"Hey, I've got a message for you to pass on."

The old lady stared at him in bafflement.

"Tell Dumbledore I'm sick of his games and bored out of my mind. So if he doesn't get me out of here, I'm going to keep bothering you in every way I can imagine. And I have a vivid imagination." Also, he was sweating like crazy from the panic.

"I do not know what..." the lady half-formed her denial when Harry cut in.

"And also, your camuflage sucks."

"Hey!" the lady cried in outrage.

He just winked and rejoined his team. They laughed at him for hitting on an old lady. He just pretended he was actually high.