"Of course it's finished, Professor, it's right here!" Hermione declared, eagerly gesturing to the cauldron, still steaming faintly.
Snape leaned in, inhaling deeply. Ah… that delightful stench of rotten eggs! He was certain; Hermione and Cassandra had brewed a potion of exquisite foulness.
Just as his interest peaked, Snape remembered his supposed errand. But when he looked up, Tom had already decanted the potion into a small, peculiar purple vial.
"..."
Snape felt a twinge of disappointment. He suspected the potion Tom had concocted in front of Cassandra and Hermione was one he didn't recognize; likely a Riddle original. Severus Snape could certainly concoct potions of his own, but that didn't quell his curiosity about the effects of Tom's latest brew. A Potions Master's love for potions, after all, was undeniable.
But all was not lost. Snape's perpetually dour demeanor masked a cunning ability to ingratiate himself with those in power. Otherwise, would the shrewd Snape have bestowed his self-invented "Transformation into black mist" for unaided flight so freely?
I'll find a way to improve Tom's favor, then get my hands on that captivating potion recipe. As for now… his three minutes were up. Time to return to his dungeon and torment Potter.
...
Deep within the Black Lake, in the Slytherin boys' dormitory…
Bang!
"That greasy-haired bat, Snape! He's gone too far!" Harry bellowed, kicking the door open. With Malfoy summoned by Tom, he was alone. Harry felt this day was uniquely cursed: tormented by Snape, and now Tom only dismissed Malfoy. Have I fallen out of favor?
Suddenly, a captivating aroma wafted through the air. "What smells so good?"
Sniff, sniff…
Harry followed the scent to a small purple bottle sitting on their table. "A potion? Whose? Malfoy's?"
He moved towards it, drawn by the increasingly alluring fragrance. "What is this? It smells divine!"
Gulp.
Harry swallowed hard, his resolve wavering. Just a tiny sip… surely I won't get caught?
Harry Potter prided himself on decisive action. He snatched the bottle, uncorked it, and tilted his head, gulping down the contents.
He smacked his lips. "Hmm… tasteless… Wait… I'm so dizzy…"
Thump.
The empty vial slipped from his grasp, shattering on the floor. Within seconds, Harry's eyes fluttered shut, and he slumped into unconsciousness.
...
He didn't know how long he was out.
"Ugh…"
Harry awoke groggily, deducing he was in bed. Had Malfoy put him there?
He turned his head and found Tom sitting on the edge of his bed, casually flipping through a magazine whose cover featured… a stylishly dressed young girl, roughly Harry's age.
"Sir…" Harry began instinctively, then stopped, his voice sounding… different.
"Ah, Harry, you're awake?" Tom set the magazine aside, and Nagini snatched it away.
Tom regarded Harry with interest, a chuckle building in his throat. "Congratulations, you're a girl now."
"..."
Harry was silent for a long moment. "Is this some American slang?"
"No, this is pure English."
"What?!?!"
Harry scrambled up, forgetting shoes, and stumbled to the table, seizing a mirror. The girl staring back possessed long red hair, intelligent green eyes, and alabaster skin. Yet, despite the jarring transformation, Harry still recognized his own reflection in that face.
The sound of shattering glass filled the room as the mirror slipped from Harry's trembling hand.
Stunned, Harry finally reacted, reaching instinctively for his… her… lower body.
"...Gone… really gone…"
Thump.
Unable to comprehend the reality, Harry collapsed to her knees.
Tom's eyes narrowed, amusement dancing within them. "The floor is filthy. Get up." He helped Harry to her feet, explaining.
Two and a half minutes later, Harry sat on the bed, staring blankly at the purple bottle.
"I apologize, Harry. I shouldn't have entrusted it to Malfoy," Tom said, of course, shifting the blame.
Harry shook her head. "It's not your fault, sir. I couldn't resist. Now you've lost a potion."
Tom patted Harry's shoulder approvingly. "I'm afraid this potion is newly developed, and there's no antidote… but do not despair, I shall find a way to reverse it."
Tom's expression was grave; anyone would believe his words.
Harry was deeply moved, tears welling. If I were a woman, I'd offer myself to him… Wait a minute! I AM a woman now!
"But I heard Professor Snape is the wizarding world's most accomplished Potions Master, perhaps he could assist."
"Hmm? We must seek out that greasy-haired bat… Severus Snape?"
Hearing Tom's words, Harry slumped. She could already envision Snape's inevitable mockery.
...
Snape's office, like its occupant, was gloomy, dominated by dark colors and the pervasive stench of potions. Aside from a few essential books, the space was crammed with bottles and jars.
Snape pondered how to instill knowledge into students as thick as trolls.
Bang, bang, bang…
A knock echoed.
"Enter," Snape snapped impatiently.
Click.
Snape looked up, annoyance etched on his face. "What do you want at this hour… Lily?!"
He entirely disregarded Tom, his eyes fixed on Harry, filled with disbelief. That maple-red hair, those emerald eyes… I never thought I would see her again…
---
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