You're a Witch, Harry (Harry Potter, Futa/F, F/F)

Story by Fleetness

More is on its way. Probably.

World building (ha!), set up (establishing plot devices), and some teasing/foreshadowing of what's to come.

Ask questions, make demands, call me out. They're all good for generating ideas.

Plot will mostly exist as an excuse to go from sexy to sexy, hopefully. And also to keep my interest.

Next chapter will have a significant age skip. Age of consent in Britain is 16, so probably there?

This was not what Harry Potter was expecting to happen when he took his third Avada Kedavra to the face. The past few moments had been dreadfully confusing, but now that he had some time and space to think, he simply stared at the room he had woken up in.

It was the largest bedroom he'd ever seen, even in magazines, television programs, and the absurdity of the Wizarding World. The walls were painted a deep, rich red, the floors some dark hardwood he couldn't name, and most- if not all- of the furniture looked to be mahogany. Harry wrestled with his sheets, mildly distressed with the difficulty he seemed to be having with that.

He hadn't been so out of sorts once he'd come back to himself after Voldemort's first Avada Kedavra of the night. Perhaps it was because it was the second he'd received that night?

Reviewing that thought once or twice, Harry resolved to be more grateful that he'd survived so many of the deadliest curse.

Finally having made his way out of bed, Harry calmly absorbed the first difference, beyond the unfamiliar room, as he caught his reflection in the mirror sitting on the dresser.

He was wearing a set of comfortable cotton pajamas. He was also very short.

"Rose?" his mother's voice rang out. "Are you up yet?"

He was also a copy in miniature of his mother, long red hair and startlingly green eyes and all.

---

Her name was Rose Grosvenor.

Her father was a muggle Duke, richer than the Queen.

Breakfast had been a perfectly lovely meal that Harry- Rose- whatever- hadn't been able to taste at all. She had been much more occupied watching her mother- who was familiar- and father- who most certainly was not- interact over the meal. They seemed familiar, good friends even.

They didn't act like Molly and Arthur at all.

It was the lack of touching, she decided. They smiled and paid attention to each other, but something was... missing.

That was ignoring the fact that Lily looked like she was twenty, and her father, she remembered absently- and that was something to worry about later, remembering things Harry couldn't possibly have known- had celebrated his fourth decade only last December, and looked the part.

Lily didn't just look twenty- she looked gorgeous. It was not so long ago that Harry had been in a dark forest, speaking with the shade of his mother, still as she had died at the age of twenty-one. This was still obviously the same woman, but subtly better, idealized, in a thousand little ways. The shape of her nose, the angles of her hands, soft curves of healthy muscle and fat distributed across her body.

"I'll be taking Rose into London for the day," Lily said, and Rose began to pay her parents more attention. "We've got a long list to get through; fittings for uniforms, textbooks, stationary, a new trunk, and we promised her she could bring a pet with her to school."

"You're certain she'll be allowed a pet in the dorm?"

Lily only smiled, amused. "They were when I attended, and the only animal that's been taken off the permitted list is dogs."

Dad- Gerald- nodded, and beyond some well wishes, left it at that, instead interrogating his oldest son- and Rose’s elder brother- as to his plans for the day.

Oh yeah. Rose had two older brothers.

Thoroughly numb to the strangeness of the hallucination, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the delusion of a day spent with his mother.

---

"Alright, have you got all your things?" Lily asked Rose, who had simply operated on autopilot before meeting her mother at the front door.