Chapter Text
Harry Potter stirred even before the first rays of light crept through the curtains. Something was off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Tomorrow he’d be heading back to Hogwarts for his sixth year, and for once there was no dread weighing him down. Voldemort’s spectacularly bad day at the Ministry last year had seen to that. He’d had the best summer of his life living with Sirius—cleared at last—and everything finally seemed… normal.
So why did he feel so weird?
He rolled onto his back, and a curtain of hair flopped into his face. Harry swiped at it irritably, still refusing to open his eyes. If he opened them, then that was it—the day had started. He wasn’t ready for that.
But… wait. He didn’t have long hair.
It was then he noticed something far stranger: there was weight on his chest. Weight that definitely shouldn’t be there.
He sat bolt upright. The weight on his chest shifted—and as he looked down, he saw the cause. In fact, there were two causes. And if that wasn’t enough, there was the unmistakable curtain of long, bright red hair tumbling over his shoulders.
“What the fu—”
Harry leapt out of bed, nearly tripping over his own feet, and stumbled to the mirror.
A girl stared back at him. Wide-eyed. Freckled. Definitely not him.
“SIRIUS!” he screamed, his voice cracking into a very high-pitched, very feminine wail.
Harry heard thudding footsteps racing up the stairs. His bedroom door burst open and Sirius came charging in, wand in hand.
“Harry, what’s wro—”
Sirius froze. His eyes flicked up and down Harry once. Twice. And then—
“Pfft—HAHAHAHA!” Sirius doubled over, clutching his stomach, laughing so hard he almost dropped his wand.
“Sirius, it’s not funny,” Harry groaned. Without thinking, he planted his hands on his hips.
That only made Sirius howl louder. He pointed at Harry’s indignant glare, tears streaming down his face.
“The look—oh Merlin—the look on your face!”
Harry scowled, wishing very much that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
“This isn’t funny, Sirius!” Harry snapped, glaring at him. “Look at me—what the bloody hell’s going on?”
The words tumbled out in a high, distinctly feminine voice. Harry, too wrapped up in his outrage, didn’t even notice. Sirius did.
And Sirius promptly collapsed onto the floor, wheezing with laughter.
Sirius could both see and hear the distress in Harry’s voice and, with monumental effort, managed to pull himself together—well, mostly. His shoulders still shook as if the laughter was ready to break free again.
“Look at me, Sirius! What am I meant to do? I go back to Hogwarts tomorrow!” Harry gestured wildly at himself, red hair swinging, expression caught somewhere between furious and desperate.
That did Sirius in. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes watering again, trying and failing not to grin.
“Pads!” Harry groaned. “This isn’t funny! How am I supposed to walk into the Great Hall looking like—like this?”
“First, Harry,” Sirius managed, trying to sound serious and failing spectacularly, “you need to stop moving around like that… because, well—certain things bounce when you do.”
Harry froze mid-gesture, face turning scarlet.
Sirius was gone again, laughter tearing out of him until he was doubled over, clutching his ribs.
“Not—not funny!” Harry hissed, crossing his arms defensively. Which, of course, only made Sirius wheeze harder.
“Oh, Merlin,” Sirius gasped between laughs. “Just tell them you’re your own long-lost cousin! ‘Harriet Potter,’ swooping in to save the day.”
“Okay, okay,” Sirius said, forcing himself to calm down. “First—I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on. Since Voldemort fell, and after your stay in St. Mungo’s, we knew there were bindings on your core—”
“I know, Sirius,” Harry cut in, exasperated. “I was there.”
That shut Sirius up. For a long moment, he just stared. The laughter faded from his face, replaced with something softer.
“Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You look—and sound—so much like your mum.”
Harry blinked, caught off guard. For once, he didn’t have a snappy comeback.
“Sorry,” Sirius said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look—when they removed those bindings, your magic surged. You had a significant power boost, and I think… well, you might’ve been a latent Metamorphmagus all along.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “What? No! Tonks is a Metamorphmagus—I’d have noticed if I could just change myself like that!”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you noticed, all right.” He gestured meaningfully at Harry’s long red hair and… other alterations.
Harry flushed scarlet. “This doesn’t count!”
Sirius only grinned. “Counts enough. Now come on, Harriet. Let’s get some breakfast, and then I’ll track down Remus and Dora. If anyone can help you get control of this, it’s them.”
“Don’t call me Harriet.”
“Too late. It suits you.”