Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Sex Pistols and I don't earn any money with this story.

Author's note:And here's the next chapter and our first cameo ;) This is unbeta-ed.

Rating: T

Even though they had offered, Harry didn't want move in with the Weasleys. He was looking forward to living on his own for the first time in his life. Grimmauld Place was too gloomy, though, and constantly reminded him of his godfather and war times. Instead he'd found a small but cosy flat owned by a half-blood, who didn't seem to care that he was Harry Potter - always a plus.

The first few weeks of living alone went well and he started to get used to living in a place that he didn't have to share with anyone else. Then, one Tuesday morning, when he was trying to buy some groceries in the supermarket close by, things turned odd. People were behaving strange and creepy – flirting outrageously with him, staring at him adoringly or full-out groping him. His neighbour, a thirty-year-old business woman, who'd ignored him since he'd moved in, had even tried to press him against a wall and kiss him. Harry had quickly pushed her away and fled into his flat. He didn't venture outside until the next morning to check if the world had gone back to normal.

When his landlord, who was living in the same building, greeted him, Harry had high hopes, but once he'd set foot outside, the previous day basically repeated itself. At his wits end, Harry floo-called Hermione and Ron, who were staring at the brunet in disbelief, when he recited his experience of the previous two days.

"Sorry to tell you this, mate, but I don't have the sudden urge to jump your bones… or, well, not really sorry. I'm pretty darn glad about that," Ron stated with a grimace and Hermione nodded.

"As crudely as Ron put it, I don't have a sudden attraction to you either, but I also know that you wouldn't lie about something like that and seeing as you've called us for help, I figure you have no clue why this is happening." For a moment, Hermione stared contemplatively into her tea cup. "Did anything suspicious happen yesterday or the day before yesterday? Maybe someone cursed you or gave you a potion."

"I don't think so? I went outside on Monday and nothing happened then, I didn't talk with anyone or ate anything someone gave me and then on Tuesday people started acting weird," Harry recounted, while scratching the back of his neck. Hermione nodded. Her gaze had wandered from the cup in her hands to her best friend's body, which she was studying clinically. It made Harry a bit uncomfortable, but his friend at least lacked the lusty sheen in her eyes.

"Harry, didn't Luna give you a necklace on your last day of school? That weird thing with hazelnuts and feathers?" Hermione finally asked.

"Yeah, she said something about it protecting me from imperial whipsers until I could deal with them on my own. It's-" Harry looked down to where the necklace normally rested underneath his sweater or shirt, but it wasn't there. "I uh… oh! I must've taken it off before showering and then forgot to put it back on. Do you really think that's the reason? But what would it protect me against?"

"Maybe it's got something to do with your weird wall thing? We never figured out what that was all about," Ron threw in, preening under Hermione's approving nod.

"We're both not affected, so I don't think it's a gender or sexual orientation thing," Hermione contemplated. "Did anyone behave as usual or completely ignored you during the last two days?"

"My landlord did. I've met him today and he just greeted me. I can't say anything concrete about the people outside."

"He's a wizard, yes?" Hermione asked, and tapped her lips thoughtfully, when Harry nodded. "Maybe whatever it is only works on muggles. We should conduct an experiment to figure out one way or another, before doing further research… or trying to get anything out of Luna."

After Harry had found the necklace in his bathroom, they went outside to test out Hermione's theory. First, the brunet walked the street up and down with the necklace around his neck, while Hermione and Ron followed from a distance. Harry was both astonished and relieved that the people he passed pretty much ignored him as they'd always done.

"That proves that the necklace actually protects you against something. Now we only have to figure out against what exactly." Hermione extended her arm with the upturned palm of her hand. "Harry, give me the necklace and walk to the street corner again."

Harry reluctantly followed the order. On one hand he was glad that people were no longer propositioning or harassing him anymore and didn't want to go back to it, but on the other hand he wanted to find out what was going on.

The brunet took a deep breath and went down the street (though it felt more like his trip into the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts). This time people payed a lot more attention to him, similar to how they reacted to Fleur, now that he thought about it. Harry tried to see if there were any people not being affected by whatever was going on and indeed found a few. One or two ignored him completely, while a few others looked in his direction and either raised a bemused eyebrow or wrinkled their nose in disgust at him. The second group was slightly out of focus as if two images were overplayed.

Halfway back to his starting point, something hit the back of Harry's leg. Hard. When the brunet turned around, an old lady with a walking stick was standing next to him and glaring disapprovingly. She too, was a bit blurry.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, young man?" She ranted, hitting his leg again. Harry was too baffled to react, let alone evade the attack on his person. "Walking around like that! Today's youth is unbelievable. This wouldn't have happene-"

"Ah, wait!" Harry interrupted, raising his hands appeasingly after checking that he was, indeed, fully clothed. "I don't know what-, I- Would you please stop hitting me? Thank you! I don't know what you are talking about and would be very thankful if you explained." Maybe she knew something and would be able to shed light on his problems?

The woman was staring at him with a squinty-eyed glare and Harry half expected her to assault him with her cane again. Instead she set it back on the ground and supported her weight on it.

"You want to tell me that you're basically parading around naked without knowing it?" She didn't sound particularly convinced. When Harry looked down again to check (yep, still clothed), she tapped his foot with her cane. "Your soul, boy, your soul. It's completely exposed and that's rude!"

"My… soul?" Harry repeated slowly, utterly befuddled. He wasn't sure what his soul had to do with anything and how this woman would be able to see it. Said women frowned at him again.

"You really have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" When Harry shook his head, she sighed. "I've seen one or two Retrogrades in my life and you don't particular look like one. More like a full-fledged Werecat."

For a moment, the woman mumbled something, which might have involved the word 'adopted'. Harry was pretty sure he wasn't, but before he'd decided if he wanted to state his opinion on the matter or not, the woman nodded decisively to herself.

"13 Cumberland Road, boy. Go there as soon as possible, preferably now. They will help you. Tell them that Elisabeth Pythera sent you and that you need instructions on hiding your soul appearance." With that she tapped Harry's leg one more time and hobbled off.

After reciting the weird conversation to Hermione and Ron, they'd indeed gone to the mentioned address. It was a small office building that unfortunately had been closed for the day, so Harry was forced to come back the next day.

Taking a deep breath, the brunet entered the building and awkwardly stopped in front of the reception desk. The middle-aged man sitting there wore an obviously pasted on smile, which made Harry want to turn back around at once.

„Good morning, Sir, how may I help you?"

„Hi, uh... my name's Harry Potter. Elisabeth Pythera advised me to come here? It's about-" Harry vaguely pointed at himself. Oh Merlin, was he really supposed to say this? Preparing himself for being ridiculed, Harry went on: "There's something wrong with me and she said you could help me. Something about hiding my soul appearance?"

The man studied him with a raised eyebrow. Harry was almost impressed how unimpressed the bloke looked.

„You seem to have it under control."

For a moment Harry thought he was being mocked as expected (and maybe he was), but then he remembered that he was still wearing the necklace. He pulled it off his neck and waited for the second opinion. The man's second eyebrow followed the first towards his hairline.

„And why can't you control it? You should be able to at your age."

„I don't even know what a bloody soul appearance is. How am I supposed to control it?" Harry grit out, already annoyed with the condescending tone the man had assumed.

The receptionist's eyes flickered from Harry's face to something above the brunet's head and finally to Harry's hands. All the while his face lost its colour and wizard swore he saw the silhouette of a small dog with folded back ears.

"I'll see who's available to help with your problem, Sir. If you could please put the necklace back on and sit over there." The man indicated to a sectioned off waiting area, now sounding a lot nicer than he had the whole time Harry had been talking to him.

Still silently fuming, the brunet sat down on one of the chairs, while Mr. Arsehole was on the phone. More than ten minutes passed until the elevator door next to the reception desk opened. The person stepping out was of Indian descent and approached Harry with the grace of a feline predator. His smile, however, was warm, when he stopped in front of the wizard and offered his hand.

„Hello, you must be Harry. My name is Bagheera. Let's go upstairs to one of the meeting rooms to talk."