Before I start this story, I just wanted to say that I have permission to use the idea of the sperm bank and glamour. I got the idea from Njchrispatrick and his wonderful story, 'A Happy Accident: 70 Years.' I highly recommend that you go and check it out before you read this. The quality of writing is phenomenal and the story is really, really sweet. So, if there are certain similarities, I do have permission to use them.

Hermione, it seemed, was both utterly fascinated and frustrated at the same time with his conundrum. When she burst out of the fireplace, hair looking like someone had electrocuted it, she was skeptical, though didn't have a reaction on the scale of Molly, thank Merlin. When he showed her his scar, she refused to believe him, stating that it could be forged. It took Prongs to convince her of who she was. Then, she promptly decided to have a rather impressive conniption, absolutely freaking out, before falling into a fit of hysterical laughter. Harry and Ron stood off to the side, mildly confused, while Molly returned to the kitchen, deciding to leave them to their business. Eventually, she calmed down and quickly returned to to her usual analytical self, shoving Harry down onto the couch and examining him.

"I don't know how this has happened off the top of my head," muttered Hermione in frustration. Her eyebrows knitted together and her lips pursed. "Surely, there's something you've done. Think, Harry." She was right up close to him, like she was interrogating him. She didn't quite seem to grasp the concept that he didn't know anything about what had happened to him.

"We've already done this before," sighed Harry, running his hand through his newly blond (and extremely choppy) hair. "I've done everything normal. Unless there was something in one of those job applications I opened. That isn't possible, is it?" There wasn't any kind of magic that Harry had ever heard of that could do that. He wasn't exactly the smartest in the field, so there was always the possibility that Hermione knew of something he didn't. That was fairly plausible.

"Not that I know of."

No longer plausible.

"You're getting that look," laughed Ron, returning to the lounge with a large chicken sandwich. He sat down, towering over Harry. "Harry, your change into an absolute twig is good for one person I guess." He laughed. "Ow, Hermione, calm down." He dodged Hermione's swats.

"This is serious, Ronald," she berated, before turning back to Harry. "I am going to have to do some research into this. From what you've told me, it's similar to a Glamour spell." She pulled a small white bag out of her purse. A loud 'whumpf' could be heard. "Oh. There go the books."

"So you do know what it is," pushed Harry. Finally, an answer.

"I said it was similar." He deflated again. "This is something new. It's charms work that I've never seen or heard of."

"Well, that's great," muttered Harry. "So, I guess I'm stuck looking like this for the time being?" And wasn't that just peachy?

"It seems so." said Hermione. She was genuinely apologetic, even biting on her bottom lip. Harry didn't blame her, though. Apparently, what had happened to him was becoming more and more obscure by the minute. Great. Just great.

"Bad luck, mate. Of all the people to turn into, it's a twig."

"Again with the twig? Seriously?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure how it would make him appear.

"It's funny," Ron defended weakly. "Anyway, what are we going to do for the time being? Hermione?"

"Just a minute." Hermione's voice was muffled. Her entire head had disappeared inside the small bag. The sight was rather amusing. "I'm looking for a book. I'm sure it's in here somewhere."

"Well, she'll be gone for an hour," said Harry, finding at least a little bit of mirth in the situation. He turned back to Ron. "Are you absolutely sure that this isn't you?"

"I can't do magic this good, mate. You know that." A sly smirk crept over his face. "Bloody Hell, Harry. You think I can do magic that even Hermione hasn't heard of. I'm flattered."

"Yeah, right."

Hermione emerged from the bag. "I've found something that may give me a lead. What I think you two should do is go to Gringotts and visit Harry's family vault. There's often records of important spells inside there."

"You think that this may be something to do with my parents?"

"It's a stretch, but we need to cover every base. We don't want to miss out on anything."

"I guess." Harry sat down, slumping. "What's happening to me?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. Moping around isn't going to do you any good, though. Come on, get moving." She paused at the calculating look Ron threw her way. Biting her lip, she said, "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Yep." Harry forced a weak chuckle, then deepened his voice. "You turn into a stone cold machine with no empathy when on the pursuit of knowledge." He coughed, throat raw. "Never doing that again."

"Okay, but really. You should go find out if there's anything at Gringotts. When was the last time you visited your vault?"

"Um…" Harry paused. He wasn't sure if he'd actually ever been into the family vault. In fact, now that he thought about it, he kind of left it alone.

"You haven't been, have you?" She narrowed accusing eyes at Harry. "Or, you're still living off your trust vault?"

"The latter, yeah."

Hermione brightened. "Well, there's always a first time for everything. Get over there now, go find something. And if you don't find anything to do with all this," she vaguely waved her hand around his body ("Thanks," Harry muttered sarcastically), "you might find some rare magical artifact, or an old family heirloom. If you do, be sure to bring it back for me."

"She does have a point," added Ron. "We should go now. It might be important that we do this as soon as possible, as well. This may become permanent."

Harry was suddenly very motivated to move. "Alrighty, then. Let's go. No time to waste." He grabbed his wand and prepared to turn on his heel. "Meet you at Gringotts." And he disappeared with a sharp crack.

"I didn't think this far ahead," hissed Harry to Ron. The goblin in front of them was scrutinising Harry with beady black eyes. "I don't look like me. They aren't going to let me in." The goblin heard him, fixing a deadly glare on Harry. If looks could kill, he would be dead as a doorknob.

"Give it a second. They will." Now Ron was cowering under the gaze of the unusually tall goblin. Their robbery of Gringotts likely didn't help their reputation among the goblin kingdom. Somehow, Harry knew he wasn't going to be in for a very good experience right now.

"Key, please?" said the goblin, lips thinning. Nervously, Harry dug around in his pocket and extracted the key, placing it on the polished, granite counter. The goblin, sharpened nails tapping a tattoo on the granite, retrieved the key and held it up.

"This is the key to the Potter trust vault." It was a statement, not a question. Harry gulped. With his new, shorter height, he only stood a foot taller than the top of the counter. It made the goblin look even more menacing than they previously did, if that was even possible.

"It is."

"You're not Harry Potter."

Harry sighed with fake regret. "Believe me, I am. I actually don't have a key for my family vault." He stopped for a second, carefully considering his next words. "Is a blood test possible?"

The goblin raised a bushy eyebrow. "Certainly," he said slowly, reminding Harry very much of Snape. "That will require you to come into one of the back offices. Follow me." The goblin hopped down from his seat and gave a frustrated gesture. They followed him out of the main hall and into the rough, back corridors of the bank. The contrast was still extremely stark every time Harry saw it. But, the goblins did as they did, and he wasn't exactly going to suggest extending the granite further into the corridors…

"Mate, you alright?" Ron waved his hand in front of Harry's face. He blinked, zoning back in and backing away from those thoughts about granite. "You zoned out."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"In here." The goblin pointed them to a large, elaborate door, yet another sharp contrast within the bank.

"Thank you." The goblin didn't reply, just gave him a deadly grin, pointed teeth and blackened gums showing. Harry smiled back and walked into the office.

The inside of the office was the picture of wealth. The floors were a plush grey carpet, sinking with every step they took. Elegant, tapestries hung on the polished granite walls, immensely old and in pristine condition. A large, imposing desk made of gleaming dark stone squatted at the other end, tasteful trinkets placed carefully on the surface. Behind the desk sat an ancient goblin with a fat nose and large, black eyes.

"Welcome, Mr Potter." Though the words we kind, the tone was snide and cold, a warning. Harry gulped and stepped into the office.

"Here is your vault, Mr. Potter. Just ring the bell and a cart will come back to pick you up."

"Thank you."

There was no reply, only the screeching of the cart retreating up the tracks. Well, weren't the goblins just the friendliest of people? He certainly wasn't keen to redo the process of getting a key made ever again. He was interrogated to a ridiculous degree, and the cut they gave him to get a sample of his blood was definitely more vindictive than it needed to be. They didn't even bother to heal the wound, which he knew for a fact they usually did. It was payback for robbing the bank, he knew, but still.

"Are you going to open it?" asked Ron, surprisingly eager. "I want to see what's inside. What do you think we'll see?" Ron's eyes were gleaming, not too dissimilar to Hermione when she saw a good book. Or, as in the case of today, was trying to find a way to turn Harry back to his true appearance. He most likely picked it up off her, seeing as they were in a relationship that was steadily getting more and more serious. There were talks of them moving in together.

"I don't know." And he didn't. He truly didn't. Curiosity was beginning to creep through him. Quick as he could, Harry pulled out the newly made vault key, still cold and gleaming, and put it inside the keyhole. He turned it. With a clacking noise, the door rolled sideways, into a hole in the wall. The sight that greeted him was definitely not what he was expecting.

The vault in front of him was, for lack of a better word, extremely neat. There were no towering piles of shimmering coins. Instead, there were neatly arranged cabinets, photos and framed newspaper clippings hanging on the dark-stained wooden walls and chests of draws slipped into the gaps. There was even a giant oak bookshelf at the back, boasting numerous books that Hermione was sure to salivate over. At least, Harry thought, their mission to find the elusive spell document wasn't going to take place in squalor. That was always a positive.

As they steps over the threshold, great clouds of dust plumed up, getting into their noses. Harry started coughing, while Ron began a series of impressively large sneezes. Eventually they stopped, standing in the middle of the vault. Ron moved over to the left of the room, while Harry took the right. The search began in earnest and in silence, only the occasional quip being exchanged, until...

"Wait." Ron paused. "What exactly are we looking for?" That made Harry stop his search. It would help if they knew exactly what they were looking for, rather than just searching for everything. He thought for a second.

"Anything to do with my change in appearance. It's most likely a document, like Hermione said." That narrowed it down. Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't narrowed it down before. His thoughts kept wandering to places they didn't need to be.

"You're being very calm about this. If I were you, I'd be freaking out."

"I'm surprised, too." It was a little strange, how he was just taking everything in his stride. Especially something as large as his appearance completely changing. They lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Harry's insides were another story altogether, a swirling storm of icy shards that threatened to prick at his protective bubbles until he broke. He pushed them away, though.

He sat down on the wooden floor and pulled open the bottom draw of a large chest of draws. No cloud of dust puffed forward this time. The draw was surprisingly deep. There was nothing in it except a small, dark box made of woods. Elaborately carved vines swirled over the surface. With deep reverence, harry opened the box. Inside, sitting deep inside a nest of crushed velvet, was a simple silver compass. The initials, 'F.P' were engraved into the top. It had belonged to Harry's grandfather, Fleamont Potter. He carefully put the box inside the bag he'd brought. That was definitely something he was going to keep.

"Hey, I think I found something." He snapped out of his compass-driven haze.

"Really?" Harry rushed over. Ron was holding a sealed paper envelope, dated around ten months before his birth. The paper was yellow but crisp, meaning that it wasn't from the wizarding world. He snatched it out of Ron's hands and peeled it open, extremely careful not to damage anything. Harry's heart dropped when he saw what it contained.

"What is it?" asked Ron, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"I-I don't know."

The letter held nothing but a solitary address, written in clean black ink

I tried a new style for writing in this chapter, and it worked tremendously. Who knew that doing dialogue first was so good? I've found my new writing style, that's for certain. No more slaving over word counts for me, baby!

My personal challenge is coming along well. I'm going to see how long I go for before I burn out. Fun! That wasn't sarcasm.

Don't forget to join my discord server. Link is below and the server is about everything fanfiction. It's set to never expire. You will have to type it in, which is annoying, but I really hope you join.

/Kb9zJgV

Sincerely
Mariadoria