The scream that tore out of the bathroom was full of terror, despair, confusion, and sheer disbelief. It hit so hard that Dudley slipped right off the couch and landed on the floor.
His bag of chips flew up and rained down over him, one half of it flipping over and landing squarely on his head.
Vernon and Petunia jerked to their feet at the exact same moment.
"What in the world are you doing in there?!"
Vernon's roar shook the walls, but Petunia grabbed his arm before he could stomp forward.
"That didn't sound right, Vernon."
She looked tense, her steps quick as she rushed toward the bathroom door. The running water had stopped, and underneath the stillness she could hear soft, shaky sobbing. Vernon lifted his fist, ready to pound on the door, but Petunia yanked his arm back.
"Listen."
She whispered it. Vernon frowned, then bent his head toward the door, struggling a bit to angle his ear.
His expression changed almost immediately. Harry caused trouble, sure, but crying? He'd almost never seen the boy cry. Not even after getting chased around by Dudley and his gang. Not even after the worst days.
"Boy?"
Vernon lowered his voice. "What are you playing at?"
Harry didn't answer. Only the soft, broken sniffles stopped.
"I'll talk to him." Petunia shot Vernon a look, one that made him step back.
"Harry…" She hadn't said that name gently in years. Not since the day Harry somehow climbed onto the school roof and brought a storm of trouble on her head. Every strange incident after that only made her harsher with him. The irritation came naturally, but beneath it… something else lurked.
Jealousy.
Jealousy of her sister. Jealousy of Lily, who got to study magic while Petunia never could.
But right now, that didn't matter. That scream had rattled her to the core. No matter how she acted, Harry was still her sister's child. Lily's only child.
She'd taken him in at great personal risk. Death Eaters were still out there. If he showed signs of being "different" again, it threatened her whole family. Her strictness came from fear fear for her home, fear for him.
"Harry, what happened?"
She reached for the bathroom doorknob. The downstairs bathroom didn't lock, and they'd never bothered to fix it. Hiring someone was expensive, and Vernon couldn't handle such repairs.
"Don't… don't come in! Don't come in!"
Harry's voice shot out the instant she turned the knob. It trembled with panic and raw fear too real to fake. Petunia's worry deepened.
"What's going on? Tell Aunt Petunia. I'm right here."
Her voice softened, so warm and strange in her own ears that even she startled at it. And something else Harry's voice sounded off. Muted by the door, distorted, different.
"Are you hurt? Did you fall? Did something happen?"
"Is something leaking? Electricity?"
Her grip tightened around the knob.
But no matter how long she waited, there was no answer.
"Harry?"
She called again, then set her jaw and twisted the knob hard. The door swung open, letting a thin veil of steam drift out. Not much was left it had been a while. But the moment she saw what was inside
Petunia slammed the door shut, spun around, and smacked Dudley across the face the instant she saw him peeking.
"What are you looking at?!"
Her voice snapped like a whip. Dudley's eyes welled instantly, but he swallowed the tears. He'd learned the hard way—when his mother sounded like this, crying would only make things worse. The slap landed with enough force to leave his ears ringing. Her glare was sharp and feral, like a tigress defending her den.
"Go to your room, Dudley! Vernon, you too!"
The frail-looking Petunia Dursley suddenly radiated the authority of a queen. Dudley and Vernon scrambled up the stairs, tripping over themselves in their rush. Neither dared slam their doors shut.
"It's alright, Li Harry. I sent them upstairs. Aunt Petunia's right here. Just… wait a moment."
Her voice had changed completely, soft and thick with an emotion she hadn't shown in years.
She rushed upstairs, nearly falling in her haste, and threw open the bedroom she shared with Vernon.
"What happened, Petunia?" Vernon asked, timid.
She ignored him, rummaging fiercely through the wardrobe. Right before she left the room, she said coldly, "Now. Immediately. Clean out that spare room on the second floor. Dudley can help. His toys belong in his own room."
"What?" Vernon stared at her like she'd grown a second head.
"Do you need me to say it twice?"
Her glare could have cut through iron.
"Nope! Going now!"
"And listen carefully. Neither of you comes downstairs without my permission. Understood?"
"Yes sir!"
Vernon practically saluted and bolted.
Within thirty seconds, Petunia was back at the bathroom door. She knocked lightly.
"Harry, it's alright now. Aunt Petunia's here. I brought you some… clothes. I think they'll fit."
"You're safe. Don't be afraid. I'm right here."
After a moment, she eased the door open and stepped into the damp room.
Harry's hair was wet and much longer than usual, long enough to brush his shoulders. Strands clung to his cheeks and neck. He was curled up in the corner, shivering, goosebumps spreading over his skin as cold air drifted in.
He lifted his head.
Petunia froze.
His bright green eyes shimmered with tears, so much like a pair she'd known all her life eyes she'd loved and hated and missed until it hurt. And if his hair had been red… if it had been even a shade closer to Lily's…
"Li… Lily…"
Petunia whispered the name, her voice breaking. Her hand rose on its own, trembling as she placed it gently on his head.
"If it really were you… how wonderful that would be…"
Large tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the tile.
"I miss you so much, Lily. I miss you so, so much…"
Warm tears pattered onto Harry's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him before he even understood what was happening. She held him as if afraid he'd vanish. She wept without restraint, a sight Harry had never imagined seeing.
Time passed. Eventually, Harry sneezed sharp and miserable and it snapped Petunia out of her memories. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling. She caught herself against the wall. Harry reached out instinctively, forgetting to cover himself.
And both of them froze.
"Harry?" Petunia whispered. "Or… Holly?"
Harry was the one crying now. The scream earlier had come from the moment he'd looked down and discovered
Little Harry was gone.
And on his chest, a soft new curve had formed.
The Gender Swap Biscuit.
That was the name of the cracker he'd eaten. Its function was exactly what it sounded like. To change back, he'd need another piece.
And as he stared at Petunia's face so gentle, so open, so full of warmth he'd never seen before Harry finally understood what Lynn meant by the price he'd have to pay.