Alterations of heart

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in the least and am not making any money from this. That is JK Rowling’s claim which I would wish from a genie if possible but it’s not.

Harry awoke the follow day and quickly remembered the dream he had. He stood and decided that the first thing to do would be a nice long shower and get dressed. Grabbing some clothes from his drawer and a towel from the closet, he walked to the bathroom and turned the water on.

Never once through the routine of cleaning and dressing did his thoughts turn to anything besides the dream that continued to plague his mind. It wasn’t until he was nearly down the stairs did Harry’s mind click for a second onto an errant thought. Without missing a beat, he turned and ran to the library that held the tremendous collection of books from throughout the Black family history.

He searched the titles meticulously but nothing could be found just from the titles. He needed someone’s help. Someone who knew books better than anyone. Someone he could trust. Only one name came to mind.

Rushing to the phone that he had just installed two days earlier, his fingers dialed the numbers he had memorized years ago. The wait was quiet for all but for tone as it rang through the receiver. Finally the voice he had been waiting for answered.

“Hello? Granger residence.” The angelic voice he had never quite noticed her to possessed asked.

“Hermione? It’s Harry. I need you help for some research. There really isn’t much I can say right now other than that it requires searching through a lot of old books.” He said as he practically heard her mind shifting into gear.

“I’ll be there tomorrow at 3. You need to meet me outside though, you haven’t given me the instructions to get in since Flitwick placed the new Fidelius.” She said before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Harry’s heart raced. This was it. He was finally going to search for something. There were ways for Voldemort to return from the dead. Why not his parents? Why not his mother?

Pulling out of his thoughts, he decided to eat some lunch and start the reading himself. Armed with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of butterbear, he began to leaf through the covers once again. One thing he began to notice was that half the books were written by members of the Black family themselves. With this noted, he pulled a book from the shelves that caught his eye. The Art of Life by Arcturus Black

He sat down in one of the few armchairs that lined the endless wall of books and flipped through the first few pages. The book looked promising at first but had turned out to be self-enhancing spells for the living. Not a way to bring back the dead. He continued to read though. If he could get an idea for anything, he had Hermione as well as many of the school board to work out the mechanics of it. One pages caught his eye however and quietly reading over it, he decided to perform it.

It called for a potion to be made from a fairly simple list of ingredients. He moved with the book down to the basement of the house which houses a fairly large selection of potions ingredients. Some were actually very rare he thought as he remembered back to his classes with Professor Snape.

Moving to a stand, he pulled all of the ingredients from the shelves and began the potion. Without the menacing but necessary sneer of his once hated professor, the potion was fairly simple to make. It brewed to the desired pinkish color that was called for in little over an hour.

Walking with the glass in hand, he moved back up to the main living space and decided to drink it there. If something went wrong, at least he was close to the Floo for someone to find him.

Setting the book down and making sure that the final instructions were only to drink it, he eyed the glass. Some potions make look good but they can also taste horrible. Deciding to just down it, he picked the glass up and drained every last drop down his throat.

The taste was the first thing to notice. It wasn’t bad at all. He smiled as it tasted of nothing more than a strawberry shake. After a few moments of nothing, he was about to walk off and check the book for why it wasn’t working. Then the feeling hit. The agony as his body felt like it was being pulled and distorted. The pain was worse than the cruciatus curse performed by Voldemort himself. The faint sound of tearing cloth was heard to his ears before everything stopped.

He kept his eyes closed from when the pain began and slowly moved his hands over his body. It had changed drastically from what he could tell but not in the way he expected. Opening his eyes, he roamed over his bodies and noticed the newly settled abs over his stomach, his toned biceps and legs. He wasn’t at muscular as those guys on television who lift boulders and push trucks for no reason but he was muscular. As he stood, he noticed that the tearing cloth he heard was his entire set of clothes. He now stood in the living room with no more clothing than the day he was born.

His cock also had been affected. Shifting only an inch in length to become eight inches long, his girth had also grown to just over two inches wide. It was a noticeable improvement.

Throughout the pain of his change and his examination of his new body, Harry had not heard the sound of the flames roaring to life and a body moving through the hall quietly. Watching. Not until the noticer acknowledged themselves.

“Wotcher Harry.”

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Sorry to leave it at a click hanger but I figured it would set the story up nicely for the rest. Hope you guys enjoy it. More soon.