Transmutocorpus

Harry rolled over and yawned. He felt his hair; it was nice and smooth. He looked at his arms; they weren’t sticks. He scanned the objects on his night stand; there were no glasses in sight. Harry loved the feeling of waking up and knowing he wasn’t himself, the famous Harry Potter, prophecy boy. It was his greatest dream come true, Harry only regretted not knowing who the dream-maker was. What was even better was that this wasn’t a dream - it was entirely real and had lasted for ten days now.

He looked over at the bed on the other side of the room, where he knew Neville was sleeping - in Harry’s body. Harry had to admit though, he wondered why Neville hadn’t spoken up yet. After all, his life was no where near as bad as Harry’s; what reason could he possibly have to deny himself? He didn’t really mind so much that Neville had kept quiet, though. As long as he did, Harry was safe.

Remembering his promise to himself to make the most of being someone else, Harry got up, dressed quietly, and made his way down the spiral staircase into the common room. He noticed Hermione asleep in an armchair, a book on her chest. He rolled his eyes when he saw the books title.

Hogwarts a History, again? Doesn’t she ever read anything else?

He crept silently out through the portrait hole, not wanting to wake his friend. He went out to the grounds and was soon at the broom shed. Quidditch was one of the few things Harry missed about being himself, that and being best friends with Ron. But it wasn’t as if Ron and Neville were supposed to be arch enemies, Harry could still talk to him. It was hard watching Neville, though, when Harry came to watch Quidditch practice. It just made Harry wish even more that it was him up there looking for the Snitch rather than Neville, who had been doing a very poor job indeed.

Harry finally picked out a Cleansweep Four that looked pretty new and hopefully wasn’t a factory reject. He mounted the broom and took off. Harry felt the wind in his hair as he zoomed around the pitch, (or as close as you could get to “zooming” on that particular model). After a while of simply flying around, he decided to look in the windows and see if there was anything interesting, in case he stumbled upon Malfoy doing something that Harry could use to blackmail him.

The first four windows he looked in simply showed empty classrooms, one of which contained Peeves, who was writing swear-words on the blackboard. The next window displayed Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, with Myrtle herself turning all the sinks on so that the bathroom would flood. Harry flew to the next row of windows up. There, he spotted a room with blue flowered wallpaper, velvet armchairs, and rows of bookshelves. Perched in one of the velvet armchairs was Luna Lovegood, reading and looking as dotty as ever. Harry was relieved to see that the canary-yellow book she was reading was right-side-up. He was about to give up window watching and go to breakfast without people staring at him (what a privilege!) when something very interesting happened: Hermione walked into the room and began talking to Luna.

Don’t Luna and Hermione hate each other? Harry thought. And how did Hermione get the password to the Ravenclaw common room anyway? Drat, I can’t hear anything. He turned the broom around, trying to get in a good position to listen at the crack where the window was open. He was in the process of trying to lie flatter on the Cleansweep so that they wouldn’t see him, when his hands slipped and he slid forwards off the broom.

Harry was thirty feet up and hurtling towards the ground.