Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of the fictional locations or characters from the Harry Potter series or any other authors work. This is a work of reworked fiction using the world of Harry Potter. However, I do own this plot and any original characters hence forth created for the purposes of this story.

Shifter

I

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...