Er...well, I don't honestly know why this came to me. I mean I was taking a shower when this plot bunny came and attacked my brain. I'm all like, "I dun wanna make a cross-over!" And my cousin's all like, "Yeah you do!" So...err...here's this then.

I may make the characters a little OOC. If you could point out where it is that I made them, so I can fix it, that would be really awesome.

This is my new disclaimer for anything I write: If I owned anything I wrote in the Fandom world EVER I would not need to work five days a bloody week. I just toy with the characters lives for fun and not for any future monetary gain. =] however, the idea is purely mine. Please ask me first if you wish to use it for some sort of media [book, show, etc.]

"Speaking"

Thoughts

Tossing and turning, a body on a bed continued to writhe as if possessed, the blankets covering the body getting twisted and caught between limbs, until bright green eyes shot open, grabbing a knotted stick by a bedside table pointing at every which way breathing heavily until his mind caught up with the fact that he was safe and sound and very much alone.

"Accio glasses." The male voice said, and glasses appeared in his hand and he put them on. Now, you might be wondering: a stick? A spell? What are you talking about? Wizardry doesn't exist. Now, you keep thinking that, and oh, look you've forgotten. Now to the regular witches and wizards, welcome. This is the tale of your hero and savior...just woken up from a horrid nightmare. It's been three hundred and sixty-five days since the death of the dreaded Lord Voldemort. And still the faces of those who sacrificed themselves for him haunt his dreams. He doesn't take any sleeping potions as they make him feel woozy.

However, he has gotten into the bad habit of drinking muggle alcohol. Now, do I honestly have to give you his name? You ought to know it. Really? Fine. His name is Harry James Potter. And this is the tale of the day when he went missing. Now, as you may remember Harry is a kind and feeling young man of eighteen now. He went through so much trial and tribulations growing up. He was raised by a horrible set of muggles after his parents were murdered by the Dark Lord.

His Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia Dursley and their putrid son Dudley. That's not to excuse the Headmaster Dumbledore from sending him back there every Summer because he can't stay at the school. Hmm? The knotted wand? Oh. Yes, that is the Elder's wand. Didn't he break it? No. He kept it. So, what else did he keep? Oh, I'm glad you asked, reader. He kept his parcel-mouth abilities too. But wait, didn't that die out when he killed himself to get rid of the part of the soul of Voldemort? Well, if I told you everything, it would be ruining the story wouldn't it?

What about the muggles? Shouldn't they remember the war of wizards and everything? That is also a good question there. You see what I had placed in the pages of this report to make the muggles reading this forget that they had found this? It's a memory spell. One that affects even muggle readers. So naturally the wizards had found it before I started this report, and placed it within all the televisions around the world. And they even sent wizards who lived in technology vacant to the muggles there to erase their memories.

It's a rather long story and I'm sure that you've already been aware of it for some time so I'm not going to bore you with that recollection. You want to know how and why Harry Potter disappeared and that's what I'm here to tell you. For I was told by the...well...I'm going to continue so that you can understand my...er...curiosity and confusion.

Harry had been walking down the roads of London, having escaped the eyes of the wizarding world to relax, and yet he always had the feeling that someone was watching him or some sort of sixth sense that warned him that a near by witch or wizard was near making sure that he was safe and he was rather tired of being protected. He was eighteen. An adult in the wizarding world, and thus should be left alone to his own devices. But no, they had to make sure that he was 'okay' when he was anything but.

"Lost Daughter! Harriet Sarah Watson. Eighteen years old today. If found please contact Julianne and Victor** Watson!" He saw the missing persons report in the news and sat up straight. This could work to his advantage, since he wanted to truly disappear. For what other way to, then to turn one into a female? Now to put the first part of his plan to get going. He got to the Leaky Cauldron and went to Diagon Alley of course taking his father's invisibility cloak, for he had no wish to deal with other witches and wizards and all the "good jobs" and the "so sorry for your losses". He was sick and tired of being this world's Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived. Now he was going to be the boy who disappeared.

He went to Gringotts, and got to talk with one of the goblins in secret, and swearing the goblin to secrecy about his being there and took out a considerable fund from his savings out. He was still rich even in wizard terms, only needing to come there for certain times when he was close to running out of pounds for the muggle world. He could still remember how that worked. Just barely though. It was confusing after a long time of using the wizard funds to switch from one to the other, and at Gringotts, he could get good rates in what the wizard money was worth in the muggle world. He then went to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. He needed some supplies. For this, he would have to bear with the talk.

[~]

When that was all done, thank Merlin and he got the necessary ingredients, he popped home, seeing no need to linger. He had a cauldron and spell book at the ready. Now, potions wasn't his strong point. But being taught by Slughorn and reading Snape's book from when he was going to class had helped him intensely. What about-? Now, please stop interrupting me. Ginny is not here. She's at her home at the Burrow. Oh dear, you had me become distracted again. Now I'm not sure what spell he used or which ingredients he had gotten. And...what's this? A computer? Now, I'm sure Hogwarts never taught the kids about technology. And keep in mind, this is only 2003. Why are you telling us the year? Certainly it can't be that important. Everything I tell you is important. Or, are you no longer curious as to how Harry James Potter disappeared for sixteen years?** Hmm? Oh...what's he doing? He seems to have gotten some computer skills from being in the muggle world for years. Hmm...? Is he? He seems to be hacking into the government files. I think it's his magic that's helping him because that shouldn't be possible. Not unless you were a high functioning sociopathic genius, or a psychopath but neither are mad men...yet. Yes, it is his magic. Clever. Really clever. Now...oh, it's happened. He changed his gender, drinking the vile.

She grabbed her invisibility cloak, and the other viles she had made perhaps of some other potion, and she popped out of the house for the last time, erasing the memory of his/her ever being here from his landlord, all his belongings in a trunk, apparating near where he had read the Watson's lived. Now that she was a female she had to get used to her body, placing the trunk down and stretching out the new quirks. She still needed glasses, there was no changing that. But he could always get contacts to fix his vision. Oh. She would have to watch that. She was so used to being a guy, that her thoughts naturally went that way. Well, she had a long time to get used to it. For from this day forward, she would no longer be the wizard who saved the wizarding world. She would be just another ordinary muggle living an ordinary muggle life. She buried her magical things, and the elder wand, somewhere only she knew. Coincidentally, she had saved a snake from being slaughtered and it stayed by her side. If fate were a corporeal thing, she'd slap it.

Mistress is distressed. Is it me? The snake asked.

"No. Don't worry about it." She said trying to speak in English. But she was certain some things came out in parcel-mouth. It just had to be watched is all. She had been 'miraculously' found by police and said that her name was Harriet, but she couldn't remember her last name. For amnesia was a good route to go, so she thought and was taken to the Watson's who said that although she looked nothing like their daughter [for the family is blonde with blue eyes...and that reminded her of a certain pure blooded wizard arsehole family] that they would take her in as her own.

She had introduced her parents to the 'pet' she got, being the rebel daughter that she thought normal muggles were. Muggles were weird after all and wanted exotic pets right? After promises that the snake wouldn't bite them, she got to keep it strangely enough. But then again, it could have been the fact that even without her magical items with her, her magic had been incredibly strong and even got stronger with having the Elder's wand so, maybe that allowed for them to not question it.

[~]

Randomly one evening, about a few weeks later Harriet found a copy of the Daily Prophet once. The Boy Who Lived: Missing! The headline read and she tossed it in the garbage and the garbage set itself on fire. It had been only a few weeks. If she could be undercover while being the number one target while Voldemort had control, she could certainly hide in plain sight. Wasn't hard to do. But those little acts of wizardry would have to stop. It was hard to quit old habits. And she couldn't exactly control the amount of magic in her veins. But she would just have to check herself. Shouldn't be that hard.

Course it had been at first. She accidentally blew up the toaster and blamed it on the fact that there had been a faulty wire. Then there was the time that whenever she got angry the lights would flicker, and she could only thank happenstance that it was raining pretty much all the time in London. She bonded with her 'brother' from time to time getting close to him until she actually started to call him her real brother. Course...getting into alcoholism she had to sneak the bottles in order to sleep until she was caught and went to therapy. Which sort of worked...for a time until the nightmares got worse and she had to move in order to save her brother from a dangerous witch like her. And could finally buy her alcohol in peace.

Fourteen years passed in that fashion. And more and more often she had seen signs of the wizarding world at a panic that she had disappeared off the face of the earth. Sure she kept her black hair, nothing to be done with that, for she wouldn't die it blonde. No. It just wouldn't look right on her. And the horrible war of Afghanistan happened, however, she just scoffed at it. That, was war for muggles. Try having a war of wizards! She had, and that was much, much, much worse and with far more casualties.

She has been hiding the horrid, petrifying truth of her real self from her family, and had given her brother her old phone which had been given to her by her ex. She had been dating another girl for a while, but that didn't work out. Apparently, she was rubbish at dating. Yeah, she knew that perfectly well thank you very much. And then, then, her brother got in touch with a certain high functioning sociopath who just happened to also be a right genus. And her brother started to write blogs of the crimes they had first being the most interesting as that's when her brother who came home from being shot, having served in the war, and stopped pretending it had been on his leg and had admitted it was on his arm. She frowns as she reads more about this Sherlock Holmes person. He seemed like a right git. And she should know. She had to deal with a right git for a whole long time. Draco Malfoy, that family of self righteous blonde bastards, but she knew that he cleaned up his act, which was good to hear.

She starts blinking. That was the first time since...oh five years ago, that she even thought of the Wizarding world. And not flinched. Maybe, she was healing after all that time away from it. Finally. She continued in that fashion, reading her brother's exploits and actually crying when she read that Sherlock Holmes was dead from jumping off a building. But then she actually got to thinking. She was considered dead to most in the wizard world. Fourteen years will do that. So. She had a feeling he wasn't really dead. And being as she was a witch, she trusted her gut instinct. But she also had the feeling that John darling shouldn't know yet. And find out for himself.

[~]

Two years had past after that incident. She had visited the grave, only when she was certain her brother wasn't there, nor anyone else that might recognize her. Well, she thought no one would recognize her since her hair was longer, to her shoulders at the least, having grown it out from the short buzz of a few months ago, which had been a bit of a drunken mistake. And besides her glasses had changed along with her facial features so that wouldn't be recognizable. The only thing they might recognize was the lightning shaped scar. And that was hidden under her fringe. Or maybe her green eyes which had been inherited from her mother.

"Look, you piece of goblin boogers. My brother cares for you an awful lot. Don't see why, cause you seem like a guy that would use my brother's good heart. Now, you listen and listen well. You come back, and come back soon! I will make your life a living hell. And don't think I wont!" She threatened and left, not returning. It wasn't until a few days that she learned along with the rest of the world, that Sherlock was indeed alive and well. "Fucking tosser." She muttered.

A few months pass and she gets an invite to a wedding. Her brother's wedding to be precise. Has her brother never met her? She doesn't do weddings. Plus, her and an open bar? Thanks, but no thanks. She even told her brother that she had other things to do, which was a lie. But let him think what he may. Then that whole Charles Augustus Magnussen deal, and Mary being not who she said she was. And ooh...Harry was tempted to track Mary down and Crucio her. But apparently, she was carrying her brother's unborn child. And then that message on the television. No! Not him! Her eye twitched. ENOUGH! That maniac took away her brother's happiness once! No way in hell or in Merlin's name was she going to sit here and let it happen any more! She built this family for herself and it's the one time besides the Weasly family that she ever felt anything resembling peace! No more! She popped out of the house she owned. And went to where she had hidden her things.

Are you going to fight?

"You bet I am." She hissed right on back to her snake that actually was poisonous. No need to tell the parents that at the time. She took the shovel and out dug the supplies taking her father's invisibility cloak and touching it for the first time in sixteen years, tears stinging her eyes. And the oddly familiar weight of the wand in her hand after all this time was strange, but she didn't question it. "I will help you this time brother. You may not want it. You may not appreciate it. But this time, I'm going to help you guns blazing." She swore popping out of the secret place, of her birth home for the last time. First to break into Sherlock's home.

Uhm. I have no reason for this. Absolutely none. So this idea of 'what if Harry became John Watson's sister' sort of took me by storm. I mean we know next to nothing about her, so I can play with her character just a wee bit. And it just wouldn't leave me alone. So, here's that. And I sort of made her a sort of 'not really caring but not cold' to her brother Harriet cause be honest, we all love our siblings no matter how annoying they get. We'll get disappointed sure, but we still love them and would protect them with everything we had. It just happens that Harriet 'Harry' is an ex-wizard who was a hero for the Wizarding world, and just so happens to have THE MOST POWERFUL WAND IN EXISTENCE just sayin'.

Double bullet one: I honestly have no idea what John's parents names were. So I made them up.

Double bullet two: Harry's been missing from the wizarding world for sixteen years. They might think him dead, but he's done the whole 'dead' act once at the climax of the war. So they're not convinced.