Chapter 2

Xander looked up. His prosthetic eye was in his hand and he blinked, with two eyes. One of them—the eye he’d lost three years ago—felt like it had just been poked by a finger, but it was real, and he could see with it. He couldn’t see very well with it, but he could see. He looked around the atrium, trying to focus, but everything was blurry. He could see that everyone in the room had turned toward him. He saw that there were several weapons pointed in his direction: swords, axes and crossbows. Everyone looked angry, but none more than Dawn.

“What’s going on?” he asked, but it wasn’t his voice that he heard.

Buffy came across the pentagram at him. She grabbed him by his shirt, which seemed bigger than it had been moments before, and shoved him up against a wall. “What have you done with Xander?”

“I’m Xander! I haven’t done anything with him—me.” Xander looked around. “Will, tell Buffy I’m me!”

“Funny,” said Willow, without sounding the least bit amused. “You don’t look like Xander, and I’ve known him for twenty years. You didn’t count on me doing that spell to remove illusions, did you? How long have you been impersonating him?”

Xander felt a sinking sensation. What Dawn, Buffy and Willow had said, the way everyone was looking at him, the way he felt: Willow’s spell had done something to the way he looked. He could imagine what they must be thinking. “Willow! I’ve known about that spell for years! It was part of the original planning for the new building! We were going to do it last week, but you had to do some last minute tweaking because of…you know. If I was someone impersonating me, I would have cleared out. I mean really, if I was using magic to impersonate me, staying, knowing that you were doing what you were doing: that’s something so stupid that only I would do it!”

Willow started to look a little uncertain. “There is something very Xanderish about that skewed sort of logic…”

“I know! I have to tell you stuff that only I would know, like back when Toth split me in two, and I thought that there was a demon robot or something impersonating me, and I told you the story about the fire engine, and I did the Snoopy Dance…” Xander looked back at Buffy. “Uh…if you let me go, I can do the Snoopy Dance.”

“I’m not letting you go.” Buffy still wasn’t looking like she believed anything he was saying.

“Okay…uh…the first thing I ever said to you was ‘Can I have you?’ I meant to say ‘help you’ but it just came out wrong. It was right outside Principal Flutie’s office—back before the other guys in the hyena pack ate him—and you’d spilled your purse on the floor. I helped you pick everything up, and got left holding a stake, which I had absolutely no idea why you were carrying around in your purse. I thought that maybe you were making a tiny fence.”

Buffy’s grip on him relaxed a bit. “Xander?”

“Yeah Buff, it’s me.”

“Tell me something only I know,” demanded Dawn.

“Well, uh, just before we came back down here, we—”

“Something that won’t make me think that I was just raped by an impostor.”

Whatever relaxing Buffy might have been doing vanished when Dawn said that.

“Oh…right…uh…” Xander thought for a bit. Whatever he said next had to be good. “You’re not special, Dawn. You’re extraordinary! And you can be really nasty with a taser. Uh…there are a few, uh, key things I could tell you, but there are too many people around that you don’t want to know about that stuff.”

Ginny couldn’t sleep through the night. The pressure from the child within on her bladder always sent her to the bathroom at least once. She got out of bed, being careful not to wake Harry. She made her way to the bathroom to relieve herself, washed her hands and her face, and started back toward their bed.

She stopped. That! Wasn’t! Harry! Some stranger was sleeping in their bed where he was supposed to be! She moved silently to where her dressing gown was draped over a chair, picked it up, and wrapped it around herself. She reached out her hand and summoned her wand to it off the bedside table. She silently Accioed Harry’s wand off the other table. She aimed her wand at the sleeping figure, and with a loud bang the man in their bed was securely wrapped in ropes.

The stranger in their bed was startled awake. “Huh, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Who are you?” demanded Ginny. “What have you done with Harry?”

He looked puzzled. “Ginny? What’s wrong?” She was surprised to see that he seemed to be missing his left eye.

“Who are you?”

“Gin, it’s me. Harry.”

“You’re not Harry. I know what Harry looks like, and you’re not him! Where is he?”

“What are you talking about?” He struggled against the ropes binding him. “What’s happened to my voice? I don’t sound right.”

Ginny flicked her wand, and the mirror from her dresser flew across the room, and settled in front of the stranger in their bed. “Does that look like Harry to you? What happened, forget to take your Polyjuice?”

“Merlin! What’s happened to me?” The man blinked a few times, and looked puzzled. “What happened to my eye? And how come I’m not blurry? I’m not wearing my glasses.” He looked up at her. “Gin, I swear, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m me. I’m Harry.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me something that only Harry knows.”

“Er… we first met when you were ten, and you’d come with your mum to see your brothers off at the station. She had to tell me how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters.”

“That was in that stupid ‘unauthorized autobiography’ that Rita Skeeter wrote,” said Ginny. “Though how she thought she could get away with calling it an ‘autobiography’ when she wrote it is beyond me. And how can you have an ‘unauthorized’ autobiography in the first place?”

“She’s an idiot,” said the man in their bed. “And she made up all that rot about how it was ‘love at first sight.’ I barely even noticed you.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“When did you notice me?”

“Sixth year,” said the man. “Well, you were a friend long before that, but it was in sixth year that I started thinking of you as a girl. And we first kissed right after the last Quidditch game of the season—you beat Ravenclaw for the cup…and you sent me that singing telegram in second year, you never confessed that to anyone but me; and the baby is going to be named James Sirius if its a boy, and Lily Luna if it’s a girl, and yes we both think that the alliteration is a bit silly, but we still want to honour both of them; and the backs of your knees are very ticklish; and you’ve got a lovely little heart shaped birthmark on the inside of your left thigh, and I always kiss it and call you ‘my dear heart’ before I—”

“Okay, you’re Harry.” Ginny flicked her wand, releasing the ropes that were binding him. “So, what happened?”

“I don’t know.” Harry looked at his hands, turning them over and examining them closely. “I don’t think it could have been Polyjuice. I would have noticed that. It tastes horrid, and the transformation hurts like hell. No way I’d have slept through it.” He started to feel around his face.

“You haven’t received any ‘gifts’ from Fred or George lately, have you?” asked Ginny.

Harry shook his head. “Not that I know of…I suppose that they might have slipped me something without my noticing it, but I haven’t seen them for a couple of weeks. Have they told you that they were developing anything that might do this?”

It was Ginny’s turn to shake her head. “Nope, and they’re supposed to keep me informed about their new product developments.” The idea that one of her brothers might have slipped something past her made her a little cross. Nothing was supposed to leave their development lab that she hadn’t approved.

Ginny had joined Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes shortly after she had left Hogwarts. A couple of close calls with products that weren’t quite ready for public consumption, and some organizational problems that came about because their company had grown too quickly in the early years had made her brothers realize that they needed someone more sensible than they were to help them run the business side of the business. (Besides, foisting the humdrum management concerns off on Ginny gave them more time for the fun part: developing new pranks.)

One of first things Ginny had done was institute some new rules about how products were tested. One of them was that nothing left their lab that she hadn’t approved. If they’d done this to Harry…

Harry seemed to read her mind. “Hey, we’ve got no reason to believe that they’re behind this.”

“You’re right, of course,” said Ginny, “but if I find out that they are, I’ll hex them into next year!” She sighed. “But what do we do now?”

“I think we need someone smarter than us to figure this out,” said Harry. “Why don’t you call Hermione?”

Xander had gotten a provisional agreement that he might really be himself out of Dawn, Buffy, Willow and Giles. It had taken a confession about the fabulous “Lady’s Night” club to finish bringing Buffy around, and a story about Spike and Giles arguing over whether they’d watch Oprah, or Sally Jesse Raphael that he’d walked in on, during the time that Spike had been living in Giles’ home, to convince him.

They still weren’t completely convinced, but it was enough that Buffy had let go of him, and they’d moved into one of the new conference rooms where there were chairs available for people to sit down in. Two of the Slayers weren’t sitting. They were standing behind him, ready to pounce if he made one wrong move.

His eye was feeling better now, but he kept blinking, hoping that would improve his vision. He didn’t like not being able to see clearly.

“I don’t get it,” said Buffy. “Willow’s spell was supposed to remove illusions. Why would it change the way Xander looks?”

“The only thing that makes even any sense would be if this is the way that Xander is really supposed to look,” said Giles. “That what we believed to be his normal appearance was an illusion all along.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense either!” said Willow. “I’ve known Xander since we were four! And he’s always had brown eyes, and brown hair. Now his eyes are green, and he’s got both of them, and his hair is nearly black, and he’s got that scar on his forehead. What’s that from anyway?”

“Don’t ask me,” said Xander. “I still haven’t seen it.” He rubbed his hand against his forehead, feeling the bump there. “We really need to put some mirrors in this place. That’s something we overlooked in the design: lots of mirrors, to make spotting vamps easier.”

“Yes,” said Giles. “Let’s all discuss the changes we want to make in our new headquarters. That is a much more urgent matter than what has happened to you.”

“Whatever happened, either we fix it soon, or I’m gonna need glasses.” Xander held up his hands, making ‘O’s with his fingers over his eyes and grinned at Dawn. “What do you think?”

Dawn shifted uncomfortably. “I think that we fix this soon.”

“Willow, do you remember when Faith switched bodies with me?” asked Buffy.

“How could I forget?”

“You and Tara did that Astral Projection thing, to see what was really going on. Do you think you could do it again?”

“Nether Realm. It’s entirely different. Astral Projection—” Willow saw the looks that everyone was giving her. “The difference isn’t really important now. I did that to find out where your soul had gone. It won’t show anything about what’s happened to Xander’s physical body.”

“But it will confirm that it’s really Xander’s soul inhabiting this body, won’t it?” asked Buffy.

“Oh yeah. That it’ll do.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Just a little privacy,” said Willow. “Kennedy and I can do it in our room.”

“Giiiin!” Harry called plaintively from their bedroom. The voice wasn’t his, but there was something about the way he said that, that was unmistakably Harry.

Ginny had just finished making her firecall to Hermione. “What?” she called back.

“My clothes don’t fit!” said Harry.

Ginny went to the door to their bedroom. She looked at…Harry looking forlornly back at her, in a shirt that was too small for him. She tried to ignore the missing eye. “What’s the problem?”

Harry tried to pull the shirt closed across his chest. “It doesn’t fit!”

“So do a stretching charm on it!” said Ginny. “That’s second year stuff!”

“I tried!” said Harry. “It didn’t work. I think there’s something wrong with my wand.” He picked it up. “It doesn’t feel right, and look!” He swished and flicked. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

Nothing happened.

“That’s first year stuff! And I can’t make it happen!” said Harry. “There must be something wrong with it.”

“Give me that!” Ginny took the wand from Harry. She could feel its power in her hand, almost as familiar as her own. She pointed it at the potted plant on the table under their bedroom window. “Engorgio.”

The plant swelled, its leaves growing to the size of garden spades, and its flowers to dinner plates.

“It works for me,” said Ginny.

“Ginny? Harry?” called Hermione and Ron from the living room.

“Be there in a second!” called Ginny. She quickly did some stretching spells on Harry’s clothes. “Get dressed,” she told him. “We’ll figure this out.”

Xander spent some of the time waiting for Willow and Kennedy to get back looking at his hands. He found that if he held them up about six inches from his face, he could focus on them just fine. “You know that old saying, about knowing something ‘like the back of my hand’?” he asked.

“Yeah?” asked Dawn.

“These don’t look right, but for the life of me, I can’t really tell you what’s wrong with them. I can’t remember what they’re supposed to look like.”

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, there are a couple of things.” Xander pointed to a scar on the back of his right hand. “I know that I didn’t have a scar like that one. He looked closer at it. “‘I must not tell lies.’ Why would anyone have that carved into their hand? And I can remember a couple other scars that I should have, that are gone, but I can’t tell you what the arrangement of freckles should be, or the wrinkles. I’m pretty sure that they’ve changed, but I can’t tell you what they should be.”

Willow and Kennedy arrived back in the conference room. “He’s Xander, but…”

“But what?” asked Buffy.

“From the Nether Realm, I could see his soul,” said Willow. “He really is Xander, but there’s something else…”

“He’s possessed?” asked Buffy. “Something possessed him to make him look like this?”

“It’s not a possession!” said Willow. “I don’t really know what it is. It’s like he’s got some new sort of power.”

“Oh, great.” said Xander. “I’ve got this new power that makes me not look like me. I couldn’t get a useful power. Oh no, not me.”

“It’s not that.” Willow tipped her head as she looked at him. “Everything that makes you…you is still there, but it’s like something has been added. Now that I know what to look for, I can see it in your aura.”

“Are you sure?” asked Dawn.

“Yes, Dawnie. I’m sure,” said Willow. “He really is Xander, on the inside. It’s only his outsides that have changed.”

Harry was getting tired of playing “twenty questions.” Why couldn’t anyone just believe that he was him? Okay, they’d all had experiences with people pretending to be someone they weren’t. Mad-Eye Moody in fourth year sprang immediately to mind—especially considering his sudden lack of one—but none of them had known the original. Shouldn’t Ron and Hermione just be able to look at him, and know the truth?

They seemed to have accepted a guarded “This is really Harry,” for now. Hermione had no idea how such a thing could be possible without using Polyjuice, and no one had any explanation for why he couldn’t use his wand anymore, or anyone else’s for that matter. Hermione had insisted that they perform that experiment. Harry had tried to do simple spells with her wand, and Ron’s, and Ginny’s and nothing had happened with any of them. It was like he had been suddenly turned into a Squib, along with the change in his appearance.

Hermione had tried Metamorphosis Deleo and Finite Incantatem spells on Harry, to try to undo whatever had happened to him, with no result. “I’d like to talk to the professors at Hogwarts about this. Maybe Headmistress McGonagall, or Professor Flitwick has seen something like it before.”

“I think you better tell everyone in the office that I won’t be in to work tomorrow,” Harry told her.

“Okay,” said Hermione, “but how long can we keep that up? If we can’t fix this—”

“We have to fix this!” said Harry. “I can’t go the rest of my life not looking like me!”

“You don’t look that bad,” said Hermione. “I mean, there are a lot of worse ways you could look.”

“On the bright side, you don’t have to worry about being recognized, now,” said Ron. “You can go out, without having to worry about being mobbed.”

Dawn came out of their room’s attached bathroom, wearing one of Xander’s flannel shirts. She looked nervously around the room that she shared with him. She was sure that he was really him, both from her own experience, and what Willow said about him, but it still felt a little weird to be here with a guy that she didn’t really recognize.

“Why don’t you spend the night with Buffy?” asked Xander.

“No!” said Dawn. “I mean…Okay, it’s weird with you not looking like you, but I believe that it’s you so there’s no reason I shouldn’t be here, is there?”

“Dawn, if this is making you feel weird…I want you to be someplace you’re comfortable,” said Xander.

“If I feel weird…it must feel a thousand times weirder for you,” said Dawn.

“But I know that I’m still me,” said Xander. “Somewhere, inside, you still have doubts.”

“Maybe a little,” said Dawn. “But…if you’re you…this has to be horrible for you…and if I desert you…it has to make it worse…and I can’t do that to you.”

Xander took her into his arms. “I love you, Dawn.”

“And I love…Xander. I’m sorry.” Dawn pushed him away. “Oh god…I…”

“I understand,” said Xander.

“Xander, I…” Dawn closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. “I want to believe that you’re you. I really do.”

“Dawn. It’s okay. Why don’t you go sleep in Buffy’s room?”

“No!” said Dawn. “I’m staying here. You need me.”

“Dawn…”

Dawn wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him. “You’re Xander. I believe that. I just have to get used to this new shape of yours.”

Harry gathered up sheets and blankets to move to the sofa in their living room that Ginny had transfigured into a bed.

“I’m sorry Harry,” said Ginny, “But it just doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s okay,” said Harry. “In a way it’s good to know that you don’t feel right sleeping with a guy who doesn’t look like me.”

“Harry!” Ginny drew her wand and pointed it at him. “One more word, and I won’t be sleeping with a guy who looks like a frog!”

Harry made a zipping gesture across his lips, and grinned at her.

Ginny grinned back, and gave him a quick kiss. “See you in the morning.” She went back into their bedroom.

“Goodnight Ginny!” Harry called to her.

“Goodnight Harry!” Ginny called back.

Harry went to work, stretching the sheets and blankets over the bed. He really did understand Ginny’s position. He tried to put himself in her shoes. Would he be able to sleep with someone who looked like a stranger, but claimed to be his wife?