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Chapter Text

Harry Potter was a young boy nearing his thirteenth birthday. However, he wasn't having the greatest time, and he couldn't care less about his birthday at that point in time as he was much too busy, as he screamed out in pain. His blood spurted from his lips and staining his mess of black hair. His glasses were smashed, now in pieces on the floor somewhere forgotten. His otherwise stunning emerald green eyes were red, swollen, and sore with tears and an anger that wouldn't die: He would not beg.

He was a boy wizard, and he didn't know how to use magic without a wand, so he couldn't defend himself as it was unfortunate that he never saw the attack coming from his racist non-magical uncle. His wand was now lying beside him useless as his uncle had been clever enough to get to it, and now it was in several pieces of brown wood with a twisted and once majestic feather looking like it could have come from a pigeon rather than an elegant phoenix.

Harry was not having a very good day as he withered on the floor of his room. It was a small room, and the Dursley's; his 'family' (and yes, he did air quote within his thoughts when referring to them as 'family'. He couldn't help it as they were only family because he was told so). He used to sleep and spend a lot of time in the tiny cupboard under the stairs, but once he received his invitation to magic school addressed to that cupboard they got scared and gave him his cousin Dudley's second 'SECOND' bedroom.

He was only blood related to his cousin and aunt, but never wanted to openly acknowledge that. It was his Aunt Petunia's lasting hate and jealousy that Harry's mother Lily Potter nee Evans for being a witch, something that one was born to be. It was in the blood, or DNA that some normal people could have children with magical powers, and they got invited to a school for magic to learn to control their powers.

When Lily Potter, nee Evans died at the wand of the darkest, (in his own opinion at least), wizard of all time - or at least in the past few centuries that Petunia was given custody of Lily's son, Harry. Petunia was still bitter, and in her pettiness she started taking out her anger and hate on Harry, which transitioned on to Vernon; her husband, and he grew to hate the child when he had never even met the boy's parents before.

Harry wrestled with the burning pain in his ribs while his uncle looked down at him in hatred. Harry didn't know where his aunt and cousin were, but suspected Vernon sent them out. His aunt may have been malicious, and hit him on occasion, but if not for her, Vernon would have killed Harry long ago, but then she did have a healthy level of fear for the magical world, so wasn't completely stupid as she knew that Harry would be famous.

He would be the Wizarding Worlds Saviour. They would all know of him and praise him for the Dark Lord Voldemort's vanquish from their midst, and if they discovered they had hurt him; they would likely end up as toads for the rest of their lives, or worse, wizard prison.

However, Vernon didn't seem to care anymore. He sneered down at the small boy. He was a huge man with a twitching grey moustache, and short swept hair wearing a white shirt stained with crimson life. His face was an unhealthy plumb colour from his anger, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Indeed, it had not been a good day for Harry James Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, The Saviour of the Wizarding World, and insert other titles he would be known by in other countries who felt relief that Voldemort was vanquished and thankful of the Potters, and mournful at their great loss.

Harry had just gotten 'home' (yes, the air quote again, as he had no home, and if he did he would consider Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry his home, thankful that it was a boarding school so he didn't have to be 'home' except for the summer holidays, unfortunately).

His uncle had picked him up from Kings Cross Train Station. He knew there was something odd about his uncle. He was happy; fake happy, but happy; he was 'trying' - well that was what Harry had initially thought.

He thought his uncle had come to his senses, or at least someone had used magic to make him seem to have seen reason, but it was all a ploy of his uncles.

Then they got into the house and things turned dark; for Harry at least as he was startled as he was dragged up the stairs with his trunk that contained all of his personal effects and belongings that Harry used at school, books, potions supplies, clothes, uniforms and other things.

Vernon took great pleasure as he slammed his giant foot through Harry's trunk before grabbing Harry and finding his wand hidden away in his pocket before snapping it into several pieces before he first slamming his meaty fist into Harry's face, knocking him to the ground in dizziness.

The behemoth of a man made Harry watch as his Nimbus 2000 was shattered to pieces, and that was a gift from his Head of House, Professor McGonagall his first year as a present for her new seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Vernon didn't stop at Harry's broom but went on to systematically destroy everything Harry owned, except for one thing that wasn't breakable; his Invisibility Cloak.

Harry had screamed himself hoarse for the man to stop, but he took great pleasure in everything he did, but had to settle for throwing his cloak to the side for later disposal.

All of Harry's stuff, and he never did have much, from presents from friends to school supplies all lay around the room in pieces, even his cauldron had been en-caved by a large foot slamming down on it. It was lucky his familiar (snowy owl) Hedwig had flown from Hogwarts as her cage had been squashed to a non-recognisable mess. He didn't know what his magic would have done on its own if he watched this monster hurt his pet.

Harry looked up from where he lay on the floor; a bloodied mess. "I'll get you b-back Vernon!" he spat out through his fear, after all he fought a seventy-foot-long basilisk the year before and won.

The man snorted and sneered down at the boy. "I should have drowned you as a baby! You no good for nothing sponger!" he hissed out enraged.

Harry spat out blood at his feet. "Me…! You crap for brains! It was you sponging off my hard work! You were treating me like a slave!"

Vernon roared out in anger and kicked Harry into the wall behind him where he fell sitting up against the wall limply. "I don't care boy because I'm going to kill you and then take my family far away!"

"Someone will find you, and you will die!" Harry roared back as he tried to find a way to escape. He knew the neighbours wouldn't do anything if they hadn't already. He knew they were nosey enough to know the Dursley's were lying bastards.

If someone had ever called in the authorities, then someone came and got the Dursley's freed. But then it was more than likely that whatever wards Dumbledore had around the house kept the other muggles ignorant to keep him 'safe', (note the air quotes).

Harry shook from fear and pain. I wish I was as big as Hagrid, as big and powerful as Norbert, he sobbed to himself as he knew he had to do something. I would show him. He would finally understand what it's like to have someone bigger than him beating him up or be burnt within my dragons breathe.

Harry felt an odd sensation through his body as he chose to die fighting, and maybe his magic would save him. He charged on a broken leg with several fractured and broken ribs but he didn't feel the pain he thought he would as white light burnt like a molten river of rapids through and over his skin when he slammed into Vernon as the man's eyes widened in terror, flames burst and churned from his maw.

However, Harry stopped still where Vernon had stood before and looked to the wall to see Vernon on the floor clutching his gut with blood splattering from his mouth, and huge slashes deep into his gut with singed shirt and his left arm was red and crispy burnt.

Looking to himself the odd white light was fading from grey scales as his clawed right hand became something more human, only massively oversized. Harry felt his head crack into the flimsy ceiling as he hunched over, towering over the wimping and crying Dursley. He sneered down at Vernon with loathing and rage while the man could only stare up through his pain in terror.

Harry had stopped crying and he couldn't remember feeling so good in his life, but he didn't feel completely like - well himself. The being ridiculously huge was one indicator that he wasn't himself. He was Harry Potter, but he was certain he wasn't as well; his appearance at least, but there was something in his head; like an ich that wasn't him. He ignored Vernon where the man whimpered and cried while blood was gushing from his mouth and wounds to the mirror Dudley broke on the old cupboard in the room.

"I'm Hagrid?" he asked himself in Hagrid's voice with Hagrid's Northern accent with Hagrid staring back out of the mirror at him with a huge dent in the ceiling from his massive height and he still had to hunch over, and realised he did not like having a beard, especially such a big bushy and wiry one. "I never imagined Hagrid was as strong as this, but to hold back so much strength; impressive. But more pressing what the hell am I, and did I almost turn into a flipping dragon? How do I change back?

"I can't be a meta-umm…-morph person, well a magical shape-shifter," he said unsure what the correct term was as he heard a brief bit about them in transfiguration. "They don't change like me, and can't turn into dragons, and certainly can't change their clothes form too," he said as he looked down at his large brown outfit with huge moleskin overcoat.

"Anyway, a meta-whatever couldn't emulate feelings or accents, and… wow, I can see… without my glasses!" he declared in awe. "That is incredible, and I never realised how blind I must have been before; Hagrid must have some enhanced senses or something, and… yep, going mad and talking to myself!"

Harry-Hagrid turned to Vernon with a vicious grin while he was whimpering on the floor, nearing the Doors of Death.

Harry realised Hagrid didn't understand the concept of child abuse, but now he could, or Harry could now he used Hagrid's form as his own, and he realised that from the emotional response he had in Hagrid's body that the normally friendly giant of a man would have killed the Dursley's back when they first met. If the fat thing had murdered him – Hagrid would have hunted, him. It was a strange feeling Harry had as he realised Hagrid cared a lot about him almost fatherly – or grandfatherly as Hagrid was in his sixties.

The fat man struggled for breath, as Harry-Hagrid grabbed him by the neck and lifted him from the ground and squeezed his throat tightly as he almost missed his own movements as his anger was so fierce.

"Not so tough now I'm not a twelve-year-old little boy, are you, Dursley!" Harry-Hagrid growled out. Vernon didn't even struggle as the life left his eyes; he wasn't able to, and Harry-Hagrid almost had a panic attack when he realised, he had just killed someone.

Harry dropped Vernon's lifeless body to the floor and shook his head as he realised those were the emotions Hagrid would have felt losing control of himself, but he wasn't Hagrid. He calmed down with deep breaths as he thought about what he could do, and more importantly, how to cover up the murder.

He frowned as he ducked his head and grabbed the door handle, and accidentality ripped open the door breaking it off its hinges. He shrugged as he threw the door to the floor and tried to fit through the gap, growling in frustration. He was now too big to fit. Why the heck couldn't he be someone smaller, like himself?

Harry had to change back to fit; the problem was he did not know how to do that, or he would have already. If only Hermione was there, she would be able to figure out what was going on. He sighed; she was the smart, yet bossy and condescending friend. Though, she really needed to learn when to shut up because nobody cared all that much about everything she read about, she wanted to brag about, especially him.

He felt something stirring within his magic as the white ripple of light burnt in a caress through his skin again and it tingled coolly through his blood, and he started shrinking with his clothes changing into a Gryffindor school uniform. However, it wasn't the type the boys wore, as this one had a skirt. He gulped as he was smaller than – well him. Harry put his right hand up his skirt to find he was the first girl he ever touched there before, or when he rushed back to the mirror, Hermione.

His mind was on overdrive trying to recall books she had read but couldn't as Harry had never read those books. He wondered mildly as he stopped enjoying the feel of his first ever, 'girl part' (even over panties he thought it was pretty cool) with blushing cheeks as his crinkled-brown-haired friend stared back at him with brown eyes.

Gulping, Harry felt his long hair before opening her robes and looked down at his figure and mildly noted that she would be easy on the eyes in a few years if she got over being so rough on the ears. Some boys in his dorm thought looks were all that mattered, but if you didn't like what spewed out of their mouth too, and vice versa then that was no grounds for any kind of 'thing'.

It was kind of weird having the outline of her intellect, and knowing she wasted it on books written in most cases but morons. He smiled as he thought that as he realised those thoughts came from the Hermione 'extract' he supposed; a portion of her genetic that he - maybe he took from touch or something. That meant that subconsciously at least, Hermione wasn't a complete book worshipper.

Magic did like to do odd things, and with who Harry was, it would be unjust if he didn't have his own super awesome magical gift to even things out, or at least make life more bearable. He had to put up with so much crap because of the old Headmaster Dumbledore and whatever it was he wanted.

Harry mildly wondered whether he could mishmash physical aspects of other people so that he could be someone new before he saw Hermione sigh in the mirror, drooping her shoulders before he remembered that was him and grinned evilly. The grin surprisingly suited Hermione more over the normal good girl reprimand everyone, look. She could have gone far as an evil mastermind, but books and authority were all she cared about.

Hermione didn't see herself as able to become someone important. He realised that she cared so much about the books someone else wrote, even if she questioned them (but did nothing to prove or disprove) someone's work because they had never bullied or hurt her.

Then Hermione was so 'authoritarian' because figures of authority, teachers, and her parents were all she had before Hogwarts. They had protected her from bullies at school. She had admitted because she liked to read and answer all the questions that she got picked on and before Harry never had any friends.

Harry was sure she considered him her first ever friend, and from her feelings; he was her best friend. He couldn't get much in the way of feelings towards Ron, except she thought he was an idiot, and never going to do anything with his life.

It was interesting what he could gather from walking in another person's shoes, quite literally. Hermione really didn't consider Ron much of a friend. He was selfish, ignorant, and arrogant, especially in his stance that all Gryffindors were good, and all Slytherins were bad.

Thinking hard, trying to find her feelings and tiny shadows of thought that it drove Hermione crazy when a pureblood mage, or magical raised couldn't take one moment to remember the muggle names of things so simple while she had to remember so much more and didn't screw up.

"This is one freaky, yet very interesting power," she mused to herself thoughtfully.

"I'm a freaking girl!" she laughed, and it was much more unrestrained than Hermione ever let out. "Hermione will kill me if she ever finds out I just felt her up!" she laughed. "But then - I never know, maybe she'll gain a sense of humour over the holiday and would at least fake being flattered or something."

Her evil grin returned a moment later as he would have to strip naked later to have a good long look. It wasn't like he would ever tell Hermione because she would likely freak out, but first things first. He had to find a way to hide his murder and get away from the Dursley's when an idea struck.

"If I burn down the house with Vernon in it…" she said, trailing off as it was weird to have Hermione's much more proper accent and feminine voice before he continued, "Then before I do it I make a distress call to the police; maybe if I'm lucky they'll think I died in the fire and was incinerated, and that Vernon murdered me!"

But first he had to change clothes. He looked down and thought hard; it seemed to happen through need, so he just 'felt' it. It wasn't a difficult emotion to conjure.

It all seemed quite simple after that as streams of white light burst around her clothes leaving her wearing dark blue hipsters with white running shoes with a blue top and black hoodie with red stripes on the sleeves. He would have to work on figuring out better girls' clothes, maybe check out some stores or magazines and catalogues in the future.

"Best power in the world!" she praised himself as that was useful.

"Okay," she giggled. "So, these powers won't be hard to master. Much easier than normal sorcery anyway."

Harry-Hermione looked around the singed and slightly foggy room, and checking the floor, she grinned as he found her moneybag and picked it up and checked on his cash and vault key. He was thankful that it had fallen out of his broken trunk and his uncle didn't see it. If the Dursley's thought for a moment that Harry had money they could take they wouldn't hesitate.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"Finally. After so long. I'm free!" Harry-Hermione muttered, smiling at the disgusting looking pub entrance, but it was better than many alternatives; it wasn't as bad inside as out, and the rooms were always clean, bright and fresh; the pub aesthetic only had that dark and grubby look, and the outside had to look unappealing to assist in the wards keeping underage muggle-born children from giving it much of a thought as well as their muggle parents.

"Wow; that line sounded like a cheesy thing some immortal daemon would give after being freed after a few thousand years of being sealed away somewhere."

Harry-Hermione chuckled thoughtfully as she-he walked into the Leaky Cauldron pub. It was smoky and grimy, as per its look, but she couldn't smell any smoke thankfully; she would have totally gone for a more welcoming theme inside rather than that medieval fantasy inn thing – well – that could work if they went with a more fairy tale video game fantasy world pub look rather than such real world. Anyway, it was better than nothing because it had wards to protect him-her until she-he found a place he could use and set up some wards of his own.

He was glad it was crowded with dinner time patrons (people did enjoy the food), as he managed to get a room without the man behind the bar even looking at her more as he was so swamped and the Magical World did things differently – plus he was swarmed with other customers too. She walked into room 9 a few minutes later after paying for a week's stay so far, closing and locking the door behind her. He sighed in relief; she may have gotten away with his 'murder', and Uncle Vernon's real murder. But she had to wait to be sure; she just knew he couldn't be seen again – well Harry couldn't.

She flopped back, laying on the huge bed. It had huge covers of pure white cotton that were soft and so very comfortable. It was squishy to the touch, and the room was spotlessly clean and bright, just his sort of place without being too tidy as it mixed up more modern Magical World and the medieval Magical World aesthetics. It even had a homely feel to it. He felt exhausted and sweaty so as soon as she, or he was different, or there about, after a good long rest in the bed he would have a nice long shower in his private bathroom.

"Wow," he whispered to herself smirking smugly about her newfound freedom. "So, time to see Hermione starker's," she giggled as she hopped off the bed.

She hesitated for a moment before she shrugged as she investigated the body length mirror, and stripped down until she was naked, blushing brightly. He looked down her smooth body, stroking her fingers down her soft flesh from her small, growing breasts to her smooth 'area' wondering why he felt so embarrassed when he felt his touch, not Hermione.

"Hermione need NEVER know about this!" he said to herself giggling in more embarrassment as she felt tingly in her lower region, as he quickly pulled her clothes back on through embarrassment. He wasn't sure how girls solved 'that' problem, and it would take some self-investigation another time to figure it out.

He honestly hadn't thought that Hermione got those feelings. Though, he was sure he wouldn't be able to play with himself as Hermione because her annoying conscience told him that it was naughty and wrong and that it was her form, not a toy, and he didn't want to feel awkward doing 'that' because he figured it was supposed to be fun.

Harry-Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes while thinking. He needed to learn how to control his shifting power. Therefore, he concentrated on thinking about his other best friend, Ron, and being Ron because he was the first person who popped into his head, destroying any mood she might have previously been in. The light burst through her skin in moments as he felt his body reforming, getting taller, it stung in a strangely pleasant way, even around the Gryffindor robes of black and red as they folded out; even looking second-hand if that was a thing as they didn't quite fit, and then it was done.

Staring in the mirror, he shook his head, trying to not look so dopey, but he could feel the lack of - what - intellect? Thought? There was certainly an abundant lack of common sense too, and no matter what he couldn't wipe that stupid look off his face.

"Wow, Ron..." he mumbled to himself in Ron's voice, shaking his ginger head as he even sounded dim if that were possible. "You look like an idiot. I wonder why I never noticed before. You got a small dick too… no wonder you always covered up and wore pants in the showers," he laughed, amused with himself, but he didn't like Ron's laugh; it was, he couldn't tell, but reminded him too much of Dudley.

He shifted his form again, and this time it took little thought on his part to turn into one of the Weasley twins. He frowned as he suddenly had the urge to cause someone some mischief. He wondered whether that was his own father coming out in him, as he was a mischief maker too, or some kind of pranking gene the twins had that he never inherited from his father, and the strangest thing was he couldn't tell which twin he was. Was it possible the twins had played the switch-a-roo prank so many times that they had confused themselves?

Shrugging Harry-Fred/George shifted again into Mr. Weasley. "Ha-ha, I'm thinking about muggle things but have a feeling like I won't ever understand them, odd… the only time I touched him was when we first met; I shook his hand, and he asked me about a rubber duck. I thought he was joking but he really was seriously asking what muggles did with them. This is brilliant, now who next? Mrs. Weasley," he shivered in disgust. He had nothing against the woman, but she ate too unhealthily for his liking and he would rather not deal with giant old - well, no.

"Um… Ginny…?" he suggested to himself as she wouldn't have that problem, and if she stayed thin and healthy and got blessed with, large, assets – well that would be awesome, but she did seem too petite, but she was cute, so that was awesome too. He took a quick breath before shifting into her and relished the shift again.

Ginny was small and wearing her Gryffindor robes like the one's she wore when he saved her life from Riddle and the diary a few months back. The cute red-haired girl in the mirror looked concerned and frightened; her brown eyes were wide and tearful as she felt fear, shame, guilt, and anything in-between.

"She-she feels so unhappy, scared, worried. Holy crap, I-I didn't think about her, she must be terrified of what she did in the chamber," he sighed sadly in Ginny's clear and surprisingly confident voice, and it made him smile a little to hear her properly before Harry-Ginny brightened as a clear thought came to mind, and it didn't hurt that Ginny's mind was surprisingly as smart as Hermione's in a more imaginative way, but thinking about it he was surprised that Fred/George was secretly smart, which should have been obvious with their pranking talents.

"I know. I'll find a way to cheer Ginny up!" She grinned. "I wonder whether I could shift into someone who doesn't really exist. Someone I could just make up from scratch? And then I could become her friend and go to Hogwarts with her, as a girl friend, or girlfriend if she was - well. No. That's kind of silly. She probably wouldn't want to be with other girls, and we're probably a little young to think about that sort of thing anyway.

"I don't think Ginny has any friends… I could feel a connection with the others, but not her. Though, could I really hide out as a girl...? Well I suppose it makes sense nobody would ever expect me to be the new girl? It might even be fun to have a… new experience that isn't terrifying and involve Voldemort trying to kill me?"

She took a deep breath, concentrating on a girl in his head. Her eyes shifted emerald green, and her hair darkened; the cute freckles around her nose and cheeks disappeared, and her uniform changed into black and blue with Ravenclaw crest; his choice because he wanted a change, and stealing a few other peoples smarts called for the blue house. Her skin got a light tan, and her nose shaped slightly differed from Ginny's. Her hair flared out naturally, longer. She was still around Ginny's age and had small feet and small soft hands; she was pretty.

"You're not a very imaginative creature?!" sang a highly amused voice. "But for a first go… yes… still not good."

She froze for a moment before she spun from the mirror in shock. She had never imagined being found out, yet at least, but sitting on the bedpost was Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix familiar staring at her. He had only just arrived as she saw the flaming embers flutter to the floor around him as they faded away. He was staring at her. He was quite the beautiful bird, scarlet and gold, and she was sure the bird had just talked to her.

"D-did you just speak to me Fawkes?" she asked with an uncertain waver in her new softer voice as she felt stupid asking a swan sized legendary bird whether he could speak when she had super powers and magic and could speak snake, so of course the bird could speak, or she could speak bird - well he was the only other creature in the room, and it was a male voice, so she felt validated that she was correct.

"Yes, of course," the bird chirped with a regal and smug tone. "You are the first creature even similar to yourself that I have met to just make themselves into the female version of themselves to hide from their problems. They'll think Lily and James had another baby before they died. In fact, if I'm not mistaken you have only taken your mothers form when she was twelve. I would try again if I was you and go for something different rather than making Harry Potter into Harriet Potter," he chuckled amused with her.

She looked back into the mirror, surprised the bird was right, and smiled a little as her mother was really cute, but no wonder her mother was so good at magic, now she took note that her mind was better than Hermione and Ginny's, but in a different, more scientific way where Hermione was the research, Ginny was the imagination, and his mum was the experimentation: the practicality.

She scrunched up her face and concentrated again. She couldn't let a stupid bird make fun of her like that, so she had to do it right this time. She could feel the change again even as she felt tiredness creeping up with hunger as she hadn't eaten anything since the Leaving Feast at Hogwarts, and she was using so much magic it was tiring.

Her eyes changed from emerald green to a sharp and deep silvery grey colour, which held an odd and unusual pigmentation that seemed both wild and deceptively innocent at the same time, and a beautiful shine to them as she mix and matched her mothers, Hermione, and Ginny's intelligence and added to it with her own; Harry's untapped mind held potential he had never noticed before he looked inside himself and others that she wanted to keep.

Her hair increased in length down to the small of her back, and slowly shifted colour, turning a black so deep it almost swallowed the light, smooth, curved, wild and loose down her back with two long tails of hair falling over her shoulders and chest, framing her face perfectly, and her fringe was loose and even with a wildness, falling gently just above her brunette eyebrows.

Her teeth straightened to near perfect white, but not so they shined or looked too perfect. Her skin was the perfect balance between white and colour with a gentle tan to the pale colour. Her nose was small and cute, and her lips a perfect red like the colour of fresh blood, and sweet and small dotting's of freckles just dotted over her nose and under her eyes.

She was going for twelve so she didn't have much in the way of chest as the feeling of the light washed over her, pumping her heart and sending that pleasant pain through her body, through her very core, and she made sure she would never have to deal with errant hairs when she got older. However, she concentrated on drawing in errant DNA from some of the stronger beings she had touched before, strengthening her body, but making sure to keep herself small – small was unassuming – unthreatening.

Her clothes shifted next. She wasn't sure how well she did the underwear as she hadn't ever thought about that sort of thing much before, but figured she got it right. She wore blue trousers with silver button tight to her small bottom and legs that ended just above her bare ankles with a tight white tee shirt with a limy green around the edges, and blue elasticated braces like straps with silver ajustable clasps attached to her completely sleeveless top holding it up over her chest. She wore small brown walking boots on her small feet with black soles and small white socks just poking up from her boots under her ankles.

Then a coat of black flowed out and around her towards her ankles, and fitting her perfectly, thin, tight and airy with a high collar, snuggling with her small body as she admired herself in the mirror.

She turned and smirked smugly at the bird. "Now tell me that anyone will ever suspect a cute, beautiful, hot young lady like me of ever having anything in common with Harry Potter, let alone blood," she asked. She had even changed her accent giving it a common royal flare to accentuate herself as more than she ever was.

"Okay, Child... that is a lot better," agreed Fawkes, surprised with her quick grasp of her new powers.

"Yeah, but how can we speak to each other? I've never heard you chatting before, and Dumbledore never mentioned phoenixes talking," she asked worriedly when that made her frightful. "Y-you're not gonna tell Dumbledore, are you?"

"Even if I could communicate with him, I wouldn't tell him anything of worth, lest of all about you," the phoenix said. "I can only speculate as to why you and I can communicate has something to do with this… power of yours," he suggested thoughtfully. "Maybe it has a huge grasp of the languages of beings you have… touched… though, you do not have the vocal capacity to speak Phoenix… but with your power, maybe you do. I cannot tell… it could be through some psychic connection for all I can tell."

"Huh? I don't quite understand," she replied, frowning in confusion as she wasn't sure she had read anything about this ability before, and she had read up on a lot of weird powers, making sure she kept Harry's parseltongue ability as it could be useful talking to snakes, but she didn't remember incorporating phoenix into her new body, but talking phoenix seemed useful too.

Fawkes sighed. "Neither do I. However, it seems that you can take the form of any being you want… probably only after you've touched them skin to skin… or I suppose skin to feather would work as well. So, you likely have all of the powers of a phoenix hidden away inside yourself somewhere."

"Oh, so I could really change fully into a Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon if I wanted?" she asked eagerly, as the thought honestly intrigued her as dragons would be cooler if she could turn into one, though frowned thinking about it as she realised Norbert the dragon was female, odd how she just knew, and maybe she would drop hints to Hagrid one day that the dragon would need a new name. She looked to her small right hand with slight-long perfect nails thinking about that claw she struck her uncle with, and the flames; she had almost transformed into a dragon then; that could have seriously been bad.

"Yes," Fawkes agreed. Though, he looked disapproving at the mere thought, or at least sounded it, as through in the song notes she could hear of his real voice and language; it may be a part of that expression?

"It also appears that you can manipulated the matter around you too," he said while she listened with rapt attention, "such as clothes and possibly even other people. You could probably shift the wind around you into a weapon if you chose. Whatever you are; you are a rare being.

"I sensed something different about you, as soon as I saw you in the Chamber of Secrets. I'm afraid that I was too out of it to notice the first time we met, and after that was still immature from after the burning as my kind, Birds of Rebirth grow up fast because of necessity or senses lack until maturity, so we're at a disadvantage for a few months. I decided to let you be and discover yourself for yourself as it would be a growing experience.

"Though, looking at the circumstances everything may have worked out if you discount the original beating because now you have no desire to tell Dumbledore of your abilities for him to try suppressing them, afraid of you growing a mind for yourself, and I don't have to try persuading you to see him for the silly old fool he has become in the past twenty or so years."

"Oh, well that's cool, I suppose, if a little - well..." she smiled as she pulled off her coat as it was hot inside and hung it on the coat peg by the door before she sat on the bed beside the post the bird sat on. "Anything else you think I should know that you might have figured out?" she asked as she leaned back on her hands and swung her legs as she tried hard to pretend she still wasn't confused by everything that was going on, but if she went with the flow she would figure everything out eventually.

"Yes, maybe you should name this new form of yours?" he suggested reasonably. "Humans tend to like names, but I suppose it is better than just calling out because then everyone nearby would turn to you too, and even phoenix take names, which become a part of us, which is why magical's can sense our names in their language," he added amused as he foresaw her question about Dumbledore knowing his name.

"Oh, okay, and you're right. I need a new name," she said with a small nervous giggle, hoping the bird didn't think she had too much time on her hands that she had thought about it before, while still a boy.

"Um… err well, how about… ...Senna?" she suggested with a grin. "After all my mother's family seemed to go with the plant name thing, and its more uncommon than something like Rose, and I don't know any other Senna's, so I figured it was kind of fitting I suppose," she laughed sheepishly, but Fawkes secretly agreed with her. "Well… umm… how about my full name being Senna… umm… and to add more flare… uh… Nightly… just because it sounds cool! Senna Nightly has a nice ring to it."

She said the last and Fawkes was startled as her accent changed further with little effort as a stream of white light momentarily caressed the girl's thin neck. She now sounded cooler - smoother than she had before with less of that posh edge she had before; it suited her better than before. She wanted to strengthen the accent to make her stand out a bit more, and honestly, it sounded a bit intimidating before, she just wanted to push the level down a little.

"Yes, well - anyway if you're done trying to become someone you were not," retorted the bird, ruffling his feathers in mild fascination. "I have a friend for you to meet…"

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