SQUEE! 14 REVIEWS! WHOO!!
*Clears throat*
I'm pretty happy, lol. This chapter will clear up the confusion with the mirrors (sorry I didn't say about that last chappie... heh heh) and introduce a new plot element (well, that's the plan, anyway...). I decided that I'm going to refer to every character (except for Harry) as the body that they are in, because if I say, for example, Lavender instead of Malfoy (that's one of the switches, if you didn't already notice), you think of a mental image of Lavender instead of Malfoy. I followed through with that through all of the chapter, expect for a few parts dealing with Blaise Zabini. I'll mention who they really are once in a while though. More thinking for you and less for me, nyah! :P
Warnings: SLASH between two male characters who have very different
ages. If you do not know what SLASH is, I doubt you want to be here reading
this. Also, this chapter has... dun dun dun... a cuss word. If you don't tolerate
that sort of thing, make like you were never here.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his universe belong to JK Rowling, I'm just
playing around. As for the characters, I do not plan to introduce any original
characters (what's the fun in that?). As far as I know, I'm the only author
who's used the plot of Voldemort changing everyone in the castle to different
people, but I could be mistaken. I'm not trying to tread on anyone's ideas,
if I am, sorry!
Thank you everyone who reviewed:
BURN THE R.U.M - Yay, my first reviewer for this story! *Offers cookie*
Thank ye!
LeeLeePotter - Lol, here's your next chapter. To answer your question,
yes, they are gender-mixing, just not all of them. o.O
blodeuwedd - You'll see!
Elizara - Thankies! :D
Kyra Invictus Black - Thanks!
Prophetess Of Hearts - I'm not sure. I'd connect the visions to Harry's
mind, and the scar aches to his body, so if they do become a part of the story,
it would probably affect both Harry and the person in Harry's body.
Arili - Thank you! You made my day, lol. Yep, a lot of people aren't
going to heed Dumbledore's warning, and also yup about the mirrors... am I too
predictable or something? Hehe, hope not. ^^" And... the left staircase
is the girls' dorms? Whoops... erm... maybe for Slytherin they're backwards...
yeah....
Lady Doncaster - You'll see! :D
Sylvester, jagoianeye, PainIsPurification, excessivelyperky,
and penny - Thanks! :D
Hollywood Recycle Bin - You'll see who's in Harry's body eventually,
I'm not telling yet, lol. I do describe what Blaise looks like in this chapter,
sorry for the rushed chapter one!
Let's go!
Chapter Two
.~*~.
Harry awoke by reaching for his glasses on the bedside table, freaking out
when he could see without them, and falling out of the foreign bed onto a cold
stone floor.
Shakily, he got to his feet and looked around before what had happened all came
back to him in a rush. He ran a hand through his hair to find neat locks that
fell softly to just behind his ears.
He stumbled past the other three four-posters, in which two Slytherins were
still asleep, into the bathroom he had found yesterday.
The room blazed to life the moment he entered, and he discovered that across
the room were two mirrors and sinks. Rubbing his eyes in disbelief, he looked
into the mirrors to find not Blaise Zabini's reflection, but his own.
So this was why Dumbledore wanted them to break the mirrors. "Impedementa,"
he muttered, pointing Zabini's wand at each mirror, which both cracked.
His reflection became Zabini's and he raised an eyebrow at the face he
saw now in the mirror. He'd seen the boy around, but had never really
talked to him.
His hair was a hay-colored shade of brown, his eyes a cold, dull blue. Zabini's
eyelashes were long, and he was less muscular than he was string bean thin.
In fact, he was really lanky in appearance. Harry grumbled, left with the impression
that Blaise Zabini looked more like a girl than a boy.
After taking a shower, which took a considerably short amount of time since
he didn't like the feeling of Blaise's skin, and dressing in a set
of Slytherin robes he'd found in Zabini's trunk, he returned to
the dormitory to find it empty. With a haste inspired by this, he sprinted through
the common room, past a gloomy Pansy Parkinson drinking coffee on a couch, and
out into the corridor.
Realizing he was wearing socks instead of shoes under his robes, he grumbled
and transfigured them into what felt like half-sneakers, half-sandals. Maybe
I really should have listened to Hermione and payed more attention in Transfiguration....
He started towards the Gryffindor table in the silent Hall, then switched directions
and headed, instead, to the Slytherin table, where he moodily sat on the end
across from a very shabby-looking Malfoy, one of the only places left. Deciding
he didn't need to see Malfoy's face across the table this early
in the morning, he slid over on the bench, next to some 5th year he'd
seen in the halls once or twice. She looked like she wasn't a good one
to cross at seven in the morning.
"Now, students and teachers," Harry jumped at the voice coming
from down his table. Goyle was on top of the bench, trying to make the syllables
make sense with the deep, grunting voice. "I know you're going to
hate this, but please listen. We will be continuing classes like normal, and
your teachers will be teaching you as well.
"This means that the people in the teachers' bodies, no matter who
they are, will be teaching. I will be holding a meeting with each of them alone
and will be giving them instructions. All the people now in student's
bodies will be learning."
Pansy, having heard a few of the last sentences as she'd been walking
through the Hall to her seat, grumbled and took the only seat left, across from
Malfoy.
"I must also remind you that you must break the mirrors, there
are many mirrors in the dormitories and I want you to break all of them. As
long as you at least crack them, they will no longer show your true reflection.
As I'm sure you've learned in your History of Magic classes, reflections
in certain materials will always the truth, no matter how a witch or wizard
is disguised, unless they are broken. The mirrors here happen to be of one of
these materials, and Voldemort will try to make use of this situation by using
them to find your true identity.
"After breakfast I would like to see whoever is in Mr. Potter's
body. You may eat now."
Harry looked at the food in front of him. It was identical to the food on
every other table, but looking at it made him feel queasy, again. He knew he'd
have to eat at some point, that this wasn't a short-term change and he'd
have to make the most of it. But it just felt wrong. His own body was squeezed
into this lanky one, he felt vulnerable to attack with a different wand, and
he felt unattached from his parents and friends. He was unattached from his
parents and friends.
Standing up abruptly, wanting to stop these thoughts which were haunting him,
he left the Hall at a brisk walk. He trailed down unfamilar stairways, down
further and further until he reached the dungeons. Turning a corner, he ran
straight into Snape, who instead of menacingly glaring at him and telling him
to watch where he was going, apologized profusely, helping Harry off the ground
and babbling. Harry would have enjoyed this immensely had the students and teachers
not changed bodies. As it was, Harry thought that whoever had taken up Snape's
body sounded like a Hufflepuff.
After finally escaping Sorry Snape, Harry followed corridors in circles until
he found a blank stretch of wall which opened when he said 'billywig'
to it. He dawdled around in the common room for a few hours, watching the small
fire in the marble fireplace or just thinking. When the clock chimed eight times,
he went upstairs, having missed dinner.
Once inside, he found a cross-legged Crabbe attempting to meditate on one
of the beds. Harry, trying to ignore it, went to his four-poster, undressed,
and got into the Slytherin pajamas that he'd flung over a lamp when he'd
dressed only that morning.
"Who're you?" Crabbe asked, still cross-legged and with closed
eyes. Harry jumped, having all but forgotten that anyone else was in the room.
"Probably not someone you know," Harry lied. He guessed it wasn't
that great to let anyone know his real identity if Voldemort was still looking
for him. My, knowing whose body Harry was haunting would certainly speed up
the find-and-destroy process, wouldn't it?
"I see," was the reply. "I really don't feel the need
to not let people know who I am. What would the Dark Lord want with me, should
he be trying to find Harry Potter? I'm certainly not involved with either
side. Most Ravenclaws aren't."
Harry frowned and sat up in his four poster, watching the still form of Crabbe
breathing. Meditating must be relaxing.
"If people know who I am, I can find my friends. After all, Dumbledore
seems to be setting us up for more than a day or so of this, doesn't he?
Would you want to go without friends for as long as he's preparing us
for?"
For a moment, Harry was silent, considering. "No," he answered finally.
"You don't want to go against Dumbledore though, do you?"
He shook his head before remembering that Crabbe couldn't see it with
closed eyes, even if there was light in the room. "No," he repeated.
"Okay," Crabbe answered, slowly getting out of his position and
opening his eyes, turning and sitting on the side of his bed, facing Harry.
"I'd be willing to be friends with you even if you don't want
me to know who you are. I'm Padma. Can I at least know your first name
if I don't know you?"
Harry, disbelieving, shook his head automatically. This was Padma? She
sounded a lot more intelligent than her sister or than she had sounded at the
Yule Ball when Ron hadn't danced with her.
"Okay," Crabbe repeated, smiling. "Can I at least know what
house you're actually in, since I told you mine?"
"Gryffindor," Harry answered, deciding that it wasn't going
to reach Voldemort if this was Padma.
"You sure I don't know you?" Crabbe tilted his head, burly
shoulders dropping.
"I'm sure," Harry lied.
"Alright then," Crabbe replied, and fell back onto his pillows.
Harry followed suit.
Sleep did not find him easily. In fact, it avoided him at all costs. Shivering,
Harry stole the quilt off of Goyle's bed when he heard a distant clock
chime two'o'clock. He'd never realized that the dungeons got
so cold at night....
At seven in the morning, Harry watched the silhouette of Crabbe through his
curtains, getting out of the next four-poster, stretching, and pouring himself
some water from a pitcher next to a wall scone. He went into the bathroom for
a shower.
Harry groaned and pulled himself to the edge of the bed, and forcing himself
to fall out so he'd wake up quicker. He was left with a bruised elbow
and more exhaustion than before.
He stood up and stumbled over to his trunk and pulled out a new set of robes
which a house-elf had cleaned and folded for him. Pulling it out, it caught
on a leather-bound, silver-edged book which clattered onto the stone floor.
Harry's exhaustion drained away as his curiosity grew. Maybe this book
was important to the actual Blaise Zabini.
He turned the book over in his hands, looking for anything indicating its contents
on the outside. Somewhere behind him the shower turned off. He vaguely remembered
Ron talking about books which did very bad things to people, and he had no intentions
of getting stuck reading a book forever....
Curiosity overriding worry, the book was opened and Harry looked at the title
page. The words Fighting the Dark Arts popped out at him, and he flipped
through the following pages.
The contents of the book were only on even-numbered pages; every right-hand
side page was covered in spidery handwriting. Passages were circled, points
were underlined, and some things were starred.
What was a Slytherin doing with a book that went against the Dark Lord?
The bathroom door opened and Harry slammed the book shut and dropped it into
his trunk, tucked it under another set of robes, and locked his trunk. Crabbe
didn't seem to have noticed anything peculiar; other than a brief glance
at Harry and the chest as he passed, he didn't do anything about it. Harry
went into the bathroom for a shower.
Stripping, Harry realized something he hadn't noticed yesterday. He looked
into the cracked mirrors, looking for any sign of it, but it wasn't there.
Blaise Zabini had no Dark Mark.
As he tramped a now near-familiar path to the Great Hall, Harry thought about
the pros and cons for himself in particular of Zabini having no Dark Mark.
For one thing, he wouldn't be called to Death Eater meetings, a very good
thing. But if Zabini didn't have the Mark yet, it didn't mean he
wasn't going to get it. There was no way in the world that he'd
be getting a Dark Mark while Harry was inhabiting body, no way....
And what about that book, Fighting the Dark Arts? If Zabini was fighting
the Dark Lord, that would make him vulnerable to attack, making him stick out
among other Slytherins. Malfoy would know if someone in his own dorm did not
have a Mark....
Grand.
He seated himself at the Slytherin table, feeling eyes upon him. He looked up
and down his table, then looked to the Gryffindor table.
Ron was watching him very closely. When he saw that Harry was looking his way,
instead of glancing away, he narrowed his eyes coldly.
Crap.
An evil smirk formed under his eyes, and Harry's own eyebrows rose at
this. Harry finally looked away, but still felt the eyes on him long afterward.
"Classes will resume tomorrow," Goyle announced when everyone
had taken a seat at their table. "I expect all of you to be on your best
behavior for your teachers. Neville is handing out schedules."
If everyone hadn't switched bodies, this would be greeted with a lot of
chatter. As it was, there was only a small mutter here and there.
"On another note, all outgoing owls and their letters will be scanned
for any mention of our present situation. The floo network will be monitored
and students caught out-of-bounds, that is, out of the castle before seven-thirty
in the morning and five in the evening will be serving detention with Professor
McGonagall for a week. I know this is restricting you, but it is for the safety
of every one of you.
"We are all on one side now. The spell that was skewered by the wards
was meant to kill every one of us, Voldemort's followers and all. He claims
to reward you when you join his ranks, but it's all a cleverly-disguised
lie. He cares as much about your lives as he cares about ours."
There was silence. Harry, as if in a dream, watched his body nod silently to
Dumbledore's words. He wondered who had been put into the dangerous position
of playing him, to be the golden boy. He would've felt sorry for them
if he had the heart, but in his current condition, he really didn't.
And his eyes again trailed over to Ron and jumped; he was still looking at him
with the same expression. Harry made a mental note to avoid running into Ron
at all costs.
Having some toast and bacon, Harry momentarily forgot his problems. This rush
of relief ended very abruptly when he stood to leave and Ron stood too.
"Crap."
Several Slytherins looked up at his none-too-quiet word, including Malfoy, who
had just showed up, two first years, Pansy, and a curly-haired sixth year.
He looked straight at Ron, ignoring his onlookers, and seated himself again.
Ron did the same. Crabbe and Malfoy were looking at him with raised eyebrows.
"Hey, Blaise, what's up?"
It was Crabbe. Harry shook his head. He wasn't really sure what Ron wanted
and who he was, but he had some guess that he was the actual Blaise Zabini.
"Nothing...."
Crabbe followed his eyes to the Gryffindor table, but didn't speak. Soon,
Malfoy lost interest and started talking to a third year down the table.
"Someone watching you?" Crabbe asked. Harry grumbled at Padma's
persistence.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Then get company to go back to the commons with you. I'll go if
you want, I finished a while ago."
Harry looked at Ron a last time with defiance. "That'd be great,
thank you."
They both stood and Harry saw Ron rise from his seat as well. Only stopping
to grab their schedules, Harry and Crabbe left quickly.
"Yo, Zabini! Wait up!"
Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds before turning around to face
Ron Weasley.
"Just ignore him," Crabbe muttered, but too late; Ron had a hand
on Harry's shoulder and was steering him to an empty classroom. He shut
the door and turned back to him, standing in front of him with the same smirk
he'd shown in the Great Hall. After a few seconds of this, Harry got annoyed.
"What?"
"Who are you?" It wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"A better question would be who are you," Harry retaliated, frowning.
"Unless you're a complete dimwit, I think you know who I am. Now,
who are you?"
"You're the real Zabini then?"
"Duh. Who. Are. You?"
"You're against Voldemort?"
The real Blaise Zabini was silent for a moment, until he said, carefully, "you
found the book then?"
"Yeah, this morning." Harry said, suddenly feeling somewhat more
powerful in this conversation.
Ron sighed heavily. "I supposed you would. Now you know, I'm not
about to go shouting your name to the Dark Lord or anything. Can I please know
who you are so I can tell you what to do when Dumbledore makes us act?"
"Harry Potter."
"Holy shit," Ron said, backing up a step. "Great, now I'm
in even more danger than I was when I was in my body."
Harry gave a dry laugh. "Yeah. Right. What do you want?"
"Okay," Ron started. Harry could see that he was thinking quickly
to find good instructions. "My father is a Death Eater, or was. Now he's
a traitor and I'm not sure if they've killed him or what."
Zabini did not seem phased by the possibility at all. "The Dark Lord will
eventually come after me because I am his heir and he needs a punching bag.
I do not want to stick out in any way, so if you make me a target..."
he made a gesture which caused Harry to wince. "Be the wallpaper, ok?"
"Fine," Harry replied. Ron opened the door very suddenly and peered
out in both directions. Seeing no one, he left.
Harry made to take a step, and tripped forward onto his face. Untying the shoelaces
that Ron must've spelled together while talking to him, he exited as well.
Seems like Slytherins will always be Slytherins.
