Author's Note: As Fast Frank pointed out, because I added chapter 0, all reviews before 24th September 2021 apply to the heading chapter number, not the navigation chapter number. Thanks, Frank!

Disclaimer: The month is up, Harry Potter isn't mine anymore *sob sob* Whatever am I going to do now? Oh, woe is me! Someone send emergency cookies! (chocolate and ice cream are acceptable too)

Harry is a She!

Chapter 8

Hangover Hijinks

It had been long. Too long.

She had thought that staying in one place would cause her to lose her mind. She hadn't thought what flying in circles would do. That and the goddamn screeching of the bloody seabirds!

She hadn't wanted them to come along, obviously, but flying across seas was their prowess and, besides, she couldn't stop them if she tried.

She didn't get it, did they like flying over deadly water, in wind, rain, hail and lightning, with no branch to find reprieve on? If so, they were crazy. Otherwise, they had done it to mess with her, which made them both crazy and dangerous.

Eventually, she sat on the blessed ground of the northern peninsula. The seabirds were circling above her, screeching congratulations; one flying out to one side, pointing the way.

Luckily, now that she was on the continent, there would be no more seabirds. Not a single one. Just a straight path to her relatives and a new life to begin.

It was time she meet it.

Warm. Warm and soft, all around. Except for the face. There was something silky there, tickling his nose.

Harry opened his eyes. Everything was a blur without his glasses, a brown, wavey blur. Perplexed, he reached out and touched the silky thing in front of him.

He knew that touch.

Startled, he leant back and bumped into something hard, causing a small yelp.

Slowly, he looked over his shoulders.

"It's terribly nice of you to wake me up, Harry, but can we go back to sleep?" the same small voice said. "I liked that dream."

There was a girl in his bed! A small girl with dirty-blond hair falling in her eyes, currently trying to get under her part of the deep blue covers.

There were so many things wrong with that sentence he didn't even know where to begin.

I do, however.

Firstly, they were in the same bed.

Secondly, under the same cover.

Thirdly, she didn't care that they were behaving very indecent and tried to go back to sleep.

Fourthly, the covers were blue.

This wasn't his bed. He wasn't even in Gryffindor anymore.

He suppressed the urge to shriek and turned back to the blur of hair in front of him. Hermione's hair.

Why on earth was Hermione's hair here? Even worse, the rest of her was there too! (Well, it would be even worse if it was her hair on its own but please forgive Harry for losing his mind in a strange situation. He tends to do that.)

Having calmed down a bit he realised his arm was squashed under her side. And now the other girl was hugging him from the back. For a heartbeat he was afraid his manhood might be digging into Hermione's back, his sleepy brain was betraying his frail heart, before he remembered not having it anymore.

Now he raked the misbehaving brain, trying to remember how in the Lord's good name did he end up in this position? And who was the second (third) girl?

"Harry, calm down, your heart is keeping me awake." he heard a murmur from behind.

Easy to say for her.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to remember: Why are we sleeping together?"

"To keep away the nargles." came a sleepy answer.

"And who's brilliant idea was it?"

"Yours, silly."

'And who are you?' is what he would've asked if he didn't value his dignity. The scraps of it left, that is. He thought them very precious.

Before he could come up with a better question, he heard her snoring lightly. Now he was really stuck. If before at Quidditch was a burrito, now... I don't know. I give up on food metaphors. If spacetime continuum was two girls in a bed, that's what Apparition would feel like. Take that, relativistic physics!

Back to the mystery. He supposed they had a few butterbeers. But not enough to knock him out, right? Definitely not enough for Hermione, she would never drink that much. She was far better at self-control, though she did do some crazy stuff last night, didn't she...

Panicking, he tried to remember if they did anything untoward that night. He remembered wanting to kiss her for some reason but he hadn't actually done it, had he? They mostly danced away the night, though he had some fragmented memories of sitting in a jacuzzi, of food trays flowing by, of Hermione's melodic laughter, of getting dizzy from all the flickering disco balls...

Had last night even happened? Silly him, of course it had. Otherwise, why would he find himself in this situation?

He didn't really know how it ended but was pretty sure they hadn't done anything untoward. After all, it was Hermione. She'd never let him do something like that. And even if she had, it would most certainly not be with a third person present!

Thus reassured, Harry lay there between the two girls, waiting for them to wake, but eventually it was he who felt too tired and drifted back to sleep.

As it turned out, they weren't the only ones that didn't make it to their own dorms that night. By the bedraggled looks of the Lions shuffling through the corridors, the entire Gryffindor Tower might have been empty.

Having been dragged out of bed by a grumpy Hermione, he made his way to late lunch, where the tiny blonde sat between them.

He wondered how to broach the subject of not having a bloody idea who on Earth was she when she pointed her fork at the High Table.

"Looks like you're not the only ones suffering from Guzzling Grogglers."

Perplexed, Harry followed the fork to the golden throne, on which McGonagall sat upright, glowering on the Headmaster, who struggled to lift his head off the table.

"Guzzler what?" he asked.

"Dumbledore is hungover." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know what she's on about?"

"Honestly, you only need eyes to know." she scowled at him. "You'd also know that if you had stopped drinking when I told you to. I imagine your memory is a sieve."

"Uh, yeah, sorry..."

"Apologise to your brain for treating it like that!" she snapped. "Lost brain cells are never replaced! And just so you know, you're the one responsible for the Headmaster's current state."

"...because I got rid of Umbridge?" he risked.

"Because you played drinking games with him."

Harry spluttered pumpkin juice all over Ron, who had just sat down and now stood again, muttering about going back to sleep.

"What! How do you know that?"

"Because I drank with you, too." she whispered with a shy smile.

Harry sat back and closed his eyes, now even more confused. He still had no idea what happened last night or who the tiny blonde was, and now also Hermione was mad at him, probably. She had smiled, but he wasn't going to take that as forgiveness granted. Too bad he didn't know what he was supposed to be forgiven for.

"Sorry, brain." he muttered.

Opening his eyes, he found the blonde looking at him amusedly.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

He shook his head.

"Nope, no banana. Sorry."

"Oh, don't be. We have a chance to meet for the first time again!" she bounced in her seat. Harry shared a stunned look with Hermione over her head. "I'm Luna Lovegood." she offered her hand, palm down.

He made to shake it, but it didn't work in that position, so he pulled it up and kissed it.

"Harry Potter, nice to meet you."

"You too, Mr Potter."

Harry saw Hermione scowl again and turn to her meal. Guess she was still mad at him, after all.

That's when McGonagall clinked a fork on her glass for attention.

"Allow me to say a few words." she stood and the Hall grew deathly silent, with the few people still drunk stopping mid-sentence.

Dumbledore chose this moment to jump upright and shout: "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" and collapse on the table again.

"Thank you, Albus." McGonagall sniffed disdainfully. "The word I had in mind was: Disgrace." she said calmly. "You've brought disgrace to the name of our school. Word is already spreading of your little... celebration tonight, all the while the Ministry is looking for a new High Inquisitor. Rest assured that the failure of Miss Umbridge did not deter them in the efforts to reform our school, and now you've given even more reason to do so."

Harry grimaced, feeling Hermione's eyes on him, afraid to look her in the face. All the while Fred and George hung their heads in shame and Luna continued to play with her vegetables.

"In the meantime, since the Headmaster is..." she looked at Dumbledore quietly snoring, his beard sprawled on the dishes. "...indisposed, I'll be taking over his responsibilities, as his Deputy. In my first act as the Acting Headmaster, I'm thereby removing all the points from all the Houses."

There was a mighty rush of clanking gems as the giant hourglasses emptied themselves.

Then, there were voices of outrage from one of the Tables.

"Yes, even Slytherin, because while the majority of you hadn't participated in the savagery, you did nothing to stop your schoolmates from vandalising the castle and its honour."

While quiet, her voice dripped of outrage and commanded attention of the Hall.

"Make no mistake, many of you would've been expelled if it hadn't been for some members of the faculty responsible for facilitating this behaviour."

Dumbledore shifted in his sleep and the Acting Headmaster forced herself not to look at him.

"All of you will be serving detention, in groups, cleaning up this mess and making repairs. Expect to receive notices by tomorrow morning. Today, just get yourselves together. Classes are cancelled, you are all dismissed."

If Harry had any doubts if last night was real, now he lost them. It was very real. And he's done goofed.

It took a week to clean up the castle and another two to find all the broken statues, traumatised portraits and puked in corners. Well, most of them, realistically speaking.

Harry, for his part, didn't feel treated any different than anyone else. Some might blame him for the crisis because he got rid of Umbridge, but they couldn't really stay mad at him because he got rid of Umbridge.

It didn't really feel like it was any single person's fault, but the most persistent sentiment was that it was Dumbledore's.

McGonagall certainly felt so.

Harry overheard her talking to Dumbledore in the Hospital Wing, while he snuck out painkillers for his latest period.

"But Minerva, it was just harmless fun..."

"Don't 'Minerva' me! You encouraged our students to act like a band of bumbling baboons!"

"It was simply dancing and some butterbeer..."

"And fireworks! And floating disco balls, transfigured dance floor, muggle bathtubs, floating appetisers, Chinese sky lanterns, Quidditch in the Hall, using trophies as drinking goblets, violating curfew, riding centaurs into the castle, tearing down tapestries to use as blankets, engaging in sexual relations with ghosts, do I need to go on?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and lay back on his hospital bed, sighing heavily. And later, after McGonagall left, Harry could hear something that he swore sounded like:

"Worth it."

Hedwig wasn't amused.

She flew towards the forested mountains and found a flock of snowy owls.

Finally!

Though, no one had warned her they would be such racistic bastards.

"Hoot." she'd greeted them.

"Hoot." they mocked. "Hoot. Hoot."

"Hoot?" she asked, trying to be polite.

"Hoot, hoot." came the reply.

"Hoot hoot hooooot?" they tested her nerves, but she tried to stay patient.

"Hoot-hoot."

"HOOT!"

How dare they, those peanut-brained hatchlings of a cuckoo!

"Hoot hoot." one of them taunted.

"Hoot hoot hoot hoot, hoot hoot." another supplied.

"Hoot hoot hoot!" a third joined.

Soon she had an entire flock hooting at her as though she was nothing more than a glorified post pigeon!

She had no time to waste for those hoopoes. They said her place was to the east with her kind, that's exactly where she'd fly. She'd show them. She'd fly so far that no owl ever flew.

"Hoot-hoot." she cursed them under her breath.

The fated day finally came and with it the new High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. It was lucky they just finished the bulk of the cleaning, though it would still take two weeks before McGonagall let up.

She was still occupying the golden throne of the Headmaster, with an abashed looking Dumbledore to her side, fresh out of the Hospital Wing.

"Don't get why he's letting her do that." Ron mumbled over his plateful of eggs and bacon.

"He can't do anything about it. Once the Headmaster has been declared unfit to perform his duties, only the Board of Governors can reinstate him." Hermione explained, more out of habit than any hope Ron would understand.

"An Imperioused Headmaster could reinstate themselves before anyone broke the curse." Harry added off-handedly.

"But an Imperioused Deputy could claim the Headmaster was Imperioused." Ron argued.

"Not to mention he feels terrible for leading the party." Hermione interrupted.

Harry only nodded, despite knowing better. It wouldn't help to correct her, nor to have to explain why he knew. Besides, he was focused on another problem.

"Reckon the Board just likes to control him." Ron mumbled.

Harry grunted in agreement. He would've liked to control the most powerful wizard too, just not this one.

Now that he was done with Umbridge, he could focus on getting his body back. The detentions took the majority of his free time, but between him and Hermione they were doing some progress on deciphering the ritual. The hard part would be actually getting Voldemort there.

There's still time, he told himself.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Madame Marchbanks."

Harry's head turned at the announcement. McGonagall was now moving from the throne to meet an older woman, who came from the double doors.

Older, huh. Ancient would've been a better word. While he sometimes thought Dumbledore moved with surprising agility for his age, it seemed a miracle this woman was moving at all. Though when the woman's gaze steeled on the approaching Dumbledore Harry didn't doubt she could hold her own.

"Albus, my boy, what trouble did you get yourself in this time?"

"Ah, the follies of youth, you see..."

"Youth which you no longer should delude yourself about having." she cut him off.

"What do we owe the pleasure, Madame Governor?" the Acting Headmaster asked. "Should we take this to my office?"

"That won't be necessary. For one, I'm not a Governor anymore, for two..." the crone put a scroll in McGonagall's hands. "...the news will be all over the castle by lunch anyway."

Now, Harry had fully turned to the conversation, along with most other students in the Hall.

McGonagall unrolled the scroll and adjusted her glasses, reading carefully. Then she actually smiled at the woman.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, High Inquisitor Marchbanks." she said warmly. "I cannot imagine a better person for the position."

"Nor can I." the woman said bluntly. "Now show me what stands for breakfast these days."

As far as Inquisitors go, Griselda Marchbanks wasn't half bad. True, she did push the Hogwarts rules over a hundred years back in time, but it still was better than anything Umbridge came up with.

Certain rules of propriety were established, but nothing that couldn't be followed by avoiding heavy language and snogging in public.

Teachers were getting reviewed all over again, though not intrusively so and were getting a fair chance to improve. The only one in danger of getting sacked was Binns, and he hadn't even noticed when Madame Marchbanks spoke to him. Curiously, it appeared that he used to be her student.

The one thing that really annoyed Harry was also the only one of Umbridge's decrees that Marchbanks hadn't changed. Namely, the uniforms.

In the week he had been absent, the toad had managed to completely change the uniform design and policy, and now he had to wear exactly the same thing Hermione did, along with all the other girls in the castle.

Hermione did complain it was a bit breezy, but nothing a warming charm couldn't fix.

When he had asked Madame Marchbanks about it, she said:

"It looks a bit liberal for my tastes, but uniformity is good. It wouldn't really be a uniform if people could wear different things."

When he asked Professor McGonagall about it, she said:

"I'm not entirely opposed to the new design, but I preferred it when students had some freedom in choice of apparel, outside of formal occasions of course. However, any changes to those regulations must go through both the Ministry and the Board of Governors."

"And neither likes us very much lately." Harry muttered.

"No, they don't." The Acting Headmaster agreed. "I promise to start the administrative process, but don't get your hopes up, Potter."

Never one to give up so easily, he decided to try wearing his former clothes anyway, rules be damned. Eventually, they had to get tired of taking points and sitting with him in detentions.

The one problem with that plan was that as soon as he decided that, his traditional robes vanished from his trunk. He suspected the Hogwarts elves, damn traitors. At least Dobby wasn't the one to do him in this time. He didn't think so.

So his only hope was McGonagall getting new rules through the bureaucracy, and in the meantime he was stuck wearing high socks and short skirts meeting at the knees, and white blouses with ribbon ties. It all looked suspiciously like something from one of the more clothed ladies in his magazine.

You might be wondering, but what about Defense? I'm glad you asked!

While they had been still cleaning the castle, they were told to self-study during that class period, which was still better than any of Umbridge's lessons.

After Madame Marchbanks took over, she announced there would be an investigation into the alleged Defence Position Curse and the spot would remain empty until the matter is resolved. In the meantime, they were encouraged to self-study and Professor Flitwick reinstated the Dueling Club.

It didn't matter much to Harry, as he always had had to self-study Defence, like pretty much any other student, what with the terrible teachers and whatnot. It did give him more time to spend in the Library with Hermione, though.

He sat down at their table, then stood and sat down again, holding the hem of the damn skirt to his legs.

"I don't know how you're doing it, Hermione." he muttered angrily.

She looked at him over the book and raised a brow.

"What, reading? It's very simple, you should try it sometime."

"Ha-ha, very funny." he shot her a glare. "Of course I mean wearing those ridiculous clothes."

"All clothes are ridiculous if you think about it..." she said distractedly, focusing on the text in front of her.

"What!" he gaped.

"What?" she got startled.

They stared at each other in stunned silence.

"Well, anyway, it's the same as with reading." she said eventually.

"All clothes are ridiculous because it's like reading?"

"I've been doing it my whole life, so it feels normal."

He blinked several times before catching on.

"So, you're gonna ignore my question?"

"What question?" she asked innocently.

"Why do you think clothes are ridiculous as a concept?"

"Oh, it's rather obvious, isn't it?" Luna said from his right.

"Where did you come from?" he asked, startled.

"Clothes are really just a fancy way to avoid the fact that we're ashamed of our bodies." Luna continued, ignoring his question. It was starting to become a pattern.

"That's not really what I meant." Hermione frowned. "I don't think everyone is ashamed of their bodies."

"Well, I'm not, but everyone was giving me strange looks when I tried ditching clothes, so..."

Harry pinched his nose, feeling a headache coming. Was it because of the absurd discussion or the fact that he hadn't had a painkiller in two weeks? Who knows.

"Well, there's also the issue of protection, from cold, sun, wind, cuts, chemicals..." Hermione listed.

"What are chemicals?"

"Something like potions for muggles."

"Oh, yes, potions can be rather dangerous..."

Finally, Harry snapped.

"Luna, what are you doing here?"

"Helping!" she said cheerily. "Isn't it obvious?"

"How is questioning the very existence of clothing any help?"

She looked at him quizzically.

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"No, that's what you were just doing."

"Well, I noticed that you two spend a lot of time in the Library, so I came to help, and that's what you were talking about." she looked between Harry and Hermione. "Is something wrong? I'm not interrupting anything? If you two want to be alone..."

"No, that's no it." Harry protested, perhaps a bit too fast. "We could actually use a bit of help with our project."

"We're making good progress, though..." Hermione said.

"But we can always use a helping hand." Harry assured.

"Well, yes, it will be faster." Hermione agreed with a frown.

"Great!" Luna exclaimed. "Now, what are we doing exactly?

"Oh, nothing special, just trying to make me a guy again with some highly illegal blood magic."

Luna tilted her head.

"But you are a guy, Harry."

He opened his mouth to ask why had she let him into her bed then, but decided it was better not to. She might actually answer, God forbid.

"Voldermort took something from Harry's blood and we want to take it back." Hermione supplied.

"He stole my bits." Harry corrected.

"I meant genes, Harry." she rolled her eyes.

"So we're going to steal You-Know-Who's bits?" Luna's eyes grew. "Fun!"

Hermione facepalmed.

Needless to say, life at Hogwarts became very interesting again, especially with the squads of Aurors running around like headless chickens, the so-called 'investigation' of the Defence Curse, students suddenly able to hex each other legally in the Club, the amount of cat-calls increasing inversely proportionately to the amount of material now allowed in the uniform (some even directed at Harry, to his horror) and, well, Dumbledore getting dethroned and still sulking about it.

"He doesn't look like he's sulking." Hermione argued at breakfast.

"Did I say something?" he asked, shifting through the mail.

"Yes, you did."

"Must've been thinking out loud."

All in all, he was quite enjoying not being in the centre of attention.

"Who's writing?" Hermione asked.

"No one important." he said, setting Healer Johnson's letter on fire without reading it.

"You can't treat your mail like that!" she outraged, pulling another letter from his hands.

"It's my mail, of course I can." he tried to take the letter back.

"Look, it's from Madame Franklin." she said as he managed to reclaim the mail.

"So I've noticed."

He skimmed through it, penned a quick response of 'Yes, that's fine. Thank you.' and sent it back with the waiting owl.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What?"

"You didn't just do that!"

"Sent an owl?" he rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me you've just spent..." he shot her a glare and she stopped herself from actually saying the number. "that much... for petty revenge!"

"It wasn't revenge."

"Then what?" she snapped.

"Justice. It can be revenge when you're going through the justice system." he pointed out. "It's all in the name, you see."

"But..." Hermione bit her lip. "Honestly, I didn't even know you had that much!"

"Well, some of it was from the recompense..." he shot an uncomfortable glance at Ron, who stopped eating and was listening keenly.

"Oh, I know very well how much you got off Umbridge and it is nowhere near the amount you just gave Madame Franklin."

"So what?" Harry snapped. "Lawyers are expensive, alright? Especially on such short notice."

"But Harry, what about your future?"

He shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't want to talk about your future? Do you want to just wing it?" she grew agitated.

"Hermione, it's really not a good time." he said placatingly, shifting his eyes to point at Ron.

When she realised, at least she had the decency to look abashed. It was too late, though.

"How much?" asked Ron, who apparently caught on.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"How much, Harry?"

"Look, you really don't want to know."

Ron met his gaze steadily.

"Don't tell me what I want, Harry. Tell me how much it cost you to get rid of Umbridge."

Harry grimaced.

"What good will it do? It's not like we can do anything about it."

"But I will know."

"But, Ron, you know it's never comfortable for us to talk about money and..."

"And what." Ron snapped. "I know you're rich. It's not like you can hide it from me. Just give me the damn number."

Their eyes met and they stared furiously at each other for several heavy moments. Finally, Harry sighed.

"Five thousand Galleons." he whispered.

Ron gaped.

"Are you satisfied now?" Harry asked bitterly, crossing his arms.

Ron nodded mutely and closed his mouth.

Harry decided it was the last time he read his mail in the Great Hall.

After that unfortunate incident, they settled into a steady routine that took them all the way into December. They used free periods to study Defence, after classes they researched the ritual in the Library and in the evenings they did homework.

Curiously, 'they' included Luna in all cases. The tiny blonde took every chance she got to spend time with her new friends. She wasn't at all bothered that the ritual was illegal, their homework was a year ahead of her own, and the other Lions constantly threw her perplexed or disapproving looks.

It seemed all she needed to be happy was for Harry to smile at her after the research and say:

"Thanks for the help today."

Some days, even the smile wasn't necessary.

Hermione, on the other hand, was getting increasingly anxious, as they got closer and closer to finishing the 'project'. Harry couldn't blame her at all because while she was getting anxious, he was losing his God damn mind.

"Okay, what's next?" Harry asked, reading over the results of their collective work.

"Ingredients?" Hermione called.

"Check."

"We know where to get all of them?"

"Yup."

"Are you sure?" she narrowes her eyes.

"Sure."

"Even the Chimaera's heart?" she looked over his shoulder.

"Even that."

"Okay." she took the notes from his hands. "Runes... check. Incantations... Check. Constellations... Check. Alright, the brewing will take three moon cycles, if we start next week, we should be ready by the end of February..." she pulled back her dishevelled hair falling into her eyes.

Harry unconsciously did the same. To his hair, of course.

"So, all that's left is blood!" Luna said cheerfully.

Sometimes he swore, nothing could break the girl's spirit.

"Yeah, we've got three months to figure out how to capture the most dangerous Dark Wizard of all time alive." he grumbled. "Easy peasy."

"Well, we can always do it later, right?"

"No, we can't." Hermione interrupted. "If we do it right, we'll perform the ritual at full moon, the end of February. Do you know what day it will be?"

Harry suppressed an angry retort: 'Yes, we know, you only said it a hundred times.'

"It's the leap day! Twenty-ninth of February, nineteen ninety-six, the additional day of the last leap year of the millennium!" Hermione waved her hands wildly. "And it coincides with the full moon; it's the most pivotal day and the most magical night at the same time. The next time we get this much power in a single day is the turn of the millennium, in four years!"

"Don't worry, Hermione, we don't need the most powerful day for this." Luna tried. Hermione shot her a murderous glare. Harry was actually impressed the younger girl didn't flinch.

"Voldemort used the summer solstice. He's more powerful than Harry and he wasn't even trying to overpower him. This..." she poked at the notes. "...necessitates Harry overpowering Voldemort. We need all the advantages we can get. It has to be the twenty-ninth of February."

Luna looked at Hermione quizzically.

"But Harry has already overpowered You-Know-Who, many times."

"Let's not open that can of worms again." Harry protested.

"He killed him when he was a baby..."

"Not true!"

"Defeated him in his first year..."

"That was just a fluke and he was just a wraith."

"Killed him again in second year..."

"And that was just a memory."

"And beat him again in the duel last year!"

"I still don't know how do you even know that stuff." Harry threw his hands up in the air.

Hermione cut in.

"Let's just assume hijacking the bloodline of the most powerful Dark Wizard is not an easy thing and do it on that day, shall we?" she asked in a slightly shaking voice, as though she was offering tea, but the tea was radioactive.

"Yeah, sure, let's do that." Harry said, failing to convince even himself.