“What is going on in there?” Hagrid mused.
Harry had had a very Dursley-free morning; the night before, Vernon had called the Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, a ‘crackpot old fool’ when he had been saying he wouldn’t pay for Harry’s education at Hogwarts. Harry had ignored it- he knew Vernon wouldn’t pay for it, but he also knew that he could.
Hagrid hadn’t even noticed the message Vernon had been trying to send, instead becoming enraged at the insult and had attempted to turn Dudley into a pig, only succeeding in giving him a tail. The three Dursleys had disappeared into the other room, and not reappeared all night.
Hagrid had seemed uneasy whenever he spoke with Harry that night. Finally, he’d given Harry his coat to sleep under.
Getting to sleep had been a peculiar challenge. Strange, unfamiliar sensations had kept coming to his attention- but eventually, he’d done it.
And by the time he woke up, he had turned back into a boy.
So now, wearing that shirt that had working buttons all the way up, he was approaching the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid- who clearly knew where he was going, but wasn’t used to getting here in a normal way. Hagrid must have been looking at the crowds of funny-haired girls that were probably walking in and out of the pub.
“A party,” Harry suggested.
“Is this-? Can this be?” It was Tom, the manager of the Leaky Cauldron. He apparently hadn’t seen Harry on the first time through- Hagrid was probably the reason this time was different. “Bless my soul! Harry Potter!”
Whatever else he said, Harry didn’t catch it, because Pinkie had let out an excited scream and started whizzing around setting up extra decor. Moments later, there was a lake of icing surrounding the crowd that had been rushing to shake Harry’s hand, with cake-bergs on everyone’s hats. Fortunately, Harry and Hagrid were outside of the line of fire, and so continued on their way un-iced.
The goblin examined the tiny golden key Hagrid had given him, purportedly the key to Harry’s vault, and scowled. “This key has been superseded,” he announced.
“What?” Hagrid asked.
The goblin looked at Harry very seriously for a second before he spoke. “You’re getting some gold from your vault?”
He nodded.
The goblin nodded sharply. “That will do, then. I’ll have someone take you to both vaults. Griphook!”
Madam Malkin’s assistant finished the strange boy’s robes while Malkin herself was still pinning Harry’s sleeves up, and he left the shop just in time for Harry’s turn to strip off his robe for the tailor to do her magic on it.
“Um,” Harry muttered uncertainly, glancing around the shop. It was empty, with no shelves for anyone to hide behind. “Madam Malkin. You… You should probably know that…” He took a deep breath. “I’m not sure what caused it, but last night…” He took another breath, and spoke quickly. “I got turned into a girl for a few hours.”
She looked at him, wand poised to do her magic on the pinned robes, with a thoughtful expression. “Did it feel… strange, or anything?”
He shrugged. “There was a bit of tingling when it happened, and otherwise unfamiliar sensations, but it felt normal.” He scowled. “I don’t know if it was a one-off or not.”
She nodded slowly. “Strange. Do you want me to do something differently because of it?”
He rubbed the side of his head. “Is there a way to make sure my robes will still fit if it happens again? I think I was a little smaller as a girl.”
She shook her head. “Not without making it happen. And even then, it wouldn’t likely fit well.”
“Oh,” he muttered, looking down.
She shrugged. “My recommendation would be to make it happen and come back for girl’s robes while transformed into one.”
He tilted his head. “Can we do that?”
She shrugged. “If you know what did it, sure,” she answered. “I’ve got all the measurements I’ll need. Though you do know I will still be charging full price for any additional sets, no matter which sex they are, right?”
He nodded. “Alright. Well, it happened the first time right when I’d been hit in the face by a door, soo…”
She stared at him. “... You want me to slam a door in your face.”
He nodded. “Specifically slamming it open, in case that’s part of it.”
“You’re serious.”
He nodded again. “I am.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then we can use the bathroom door. Specifically because it’s got spells on it to prevent injury.”
“That took a while,” Hagrid commented without looking, when Harry stepped out of Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Harry looked; he was knitting what looked like a canary yellow circus tent, and counting stitches.
“Not too long, I hope,” he answered, with his female voice.
Hagrid looked, then heaved a sigh and visibly refrained from facepalming. Finally, he looked again. “At least that shirt fits,” he muttered, putting his knitting away and offering Harry one of the two completely un-melted ice creams next to him. “They’re non-meltable,” he supplied, by way of explanation.
Harry nodded. Madam Malkin had confirmed what he had suspected. He was almost a full size smaller as a girl, and about two inches shorter. As a result, especially since even the shirt with good buttons wasn’t protecting his chest very well, she had urged him to change into his new girl’s robes- or, at least, the shirt that came with one of the sets- as soon as he’d paid for them. While in the bathroom to do exactly that, Harry had noticed that the shirt and skirt combo, to be worn under the robe, would pass quite well as ‘muggle’ clothing, and so had changed into the full set, save only the robe and hat. The shirt had the Hogwarts crest embroidered on it, right over his heart, but unlike wizards (apparently), he knew that wouldn’t matter in London or anywhere else in the world he was familiar with. For as much as the skirt was making him uneasy, he rather liked how it felt.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Given Harry his letter. Harry was somehow turned into a boy, and is calling himself Harry. Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well.
Hagrid.
Dumbledore stared at Hagrid’s note at the breakfast table. So Harry had somehow been turned into a boy…? It didn’t make any sense- and if he hadn’t known Hagrid, he might’ve thought it was a joke. He’d have to ask the gamekeeper what he meant when he got back tonight.
Dumbledore glanced at his office clock. It was almost two o’clock; Hagrid was probably finishing up with Harry in Diagon Alley by now, and so would be back at the castle in an hour or so. He pulled out Hagrid’s letter once again, and looked at it, once again trying to make sense of it.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Given Hailey her letter. Harry was somehow turned into a girl, and is calling herself Hailey. Taking her to buy her things tomorrow. Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well.
Hagrid.
He stared at the letter. Now it actually makes sense- but that was most certainly not what it had said earlier that same day! He drew his wand and started checking for charms. The letter, himself, his office, the Castle. Anything that might’ve messed with it or his ability to read it. The handwriting was just as flawlessly Hagrid’s as it had been before- almost like he’d written two of them, with that difference, and swapped them out when he wasn’t looking.
He’d still have to ask Hagrid for an explanation, since Harry couldn’t possibly have been turned into a girl, but at least he didn’t have to ask Hagrid why his letter had been full of nonsense.
Hermione Granger blinked twice when she stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron. It had gone from a grubby little pub on the outside to a veritable party house on the inside, though it looked like one of the cakes- which were large enough she was wondering how they weren’t collapsing under their own weight- had been launched… or something. A good sized swath of the room had been covered in icing and bits of cake, alongside everyone that had been in it. There were two mop buckets abandoned at the edge of the mess, and there were several more of the funny-haired children that seemed to be crowding the place rolling over a giant tub and carrying shovels that had icing on them. It looked like they were planning on carting away most of the mess, rather than attempting to dissolve it in a smaller quantity of mop water.
Then a very cheerful and very pink girl appeared in front of her. She was even covered, head to toe, in pink icing. “Goood morning, and welcome to the Wizarding World!”
“What happened?” she asked. She could tell that her parents and Professor McGonagall were still staring around the pub.
“I’m having a lot of difficulty getting the whittlies to behave,” she grumbled.
“Whittlies?” she asked.
“Don’t ask,” another girl said, but Hermione ignored her. “What are the whittlies?” she asked the pink girl.
The girl looked at her. “The whittlies? It’s-!” Hermione understood very few of the words the girl used, but she filed it in her brain for later reference anyways.
She did notice something, though. When the girl finished, she asked her next question. “You make it sound like they’ve behaved for you before?”
“Oh yes, they behave just fine where I’m from,” she said proudly. “”Back home, I can turn someplace like this into a party house with cakes six times this size and streamers and banners and everything- even guests- in about two seconds flat.”
“Why can’t you do that here?”
She scowled. “Because…” She sighed. “Well, the freddled gruntbuggly turns left instead of right over here, the micturations invert everything instead of just turning it upside down, and I can never tell how plurdled the gabbleblotchits are before I squiggle the lurgid.”
“Uh, Hermione, let’s move on,” her mother said, grabbing her by the shoulder.
She glanced up, before looking back at the pink girl. “I’ll see you later!” She then allowed her mother to guide her away, while the pink girl waved cheerfully.