Harry Potter and the Cursed Duplicate
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Title: Harry Potter and the Cursed Duplicate
Harry Potter was barely breathing, tense with exhaustion and resolve, in His last confrontation with the curse-infused object – a Horcrux of Voldemort. As he plunged the Basilisk fang into the locket, it emitted a ghastly scream, revealing the soul piece residing within. A cold, dark energy swathed Harry, contemplating his fate to which he was inextricably linked; little did he know, a twisted outcome awaited him.
Suddenly, he trembled violently as an unfamiliar sensation prickled his scalp. He instinctively reached for his hair; instead of the familiar black tussles, he felt long, silky strands rustling through his fingers. He gazed at his own reflection in the darkened locket, a shock of flaming red hair now cascaded down his shoulders. "Merlin's beard!" Harry was visibly taken aback - his hair didn't just grow longer, it had been transformed into Ginny's flaming red locks.
A jolt of unbearable pain coursed through his body. What followed next was excruciating, undescribable horrors that Harry would have even wished to face more Dementors than enduring. Gradually, and tormentingly, his musculature softened, limbs lengthened and curves confined to his body in an all too familiar shape. Harry collapsed onto the stone floor of the chamber, his reflection bearing the uncanny resemblance of Ginny Weasley.
He could feel an invasion in his mind, a foreign consciousness bearing upon his own. Memories that weren't his own began flooding, moments with the Weasley family, late-night visits to the kitchens with Hermione, the feel of his - no, Ginny’s Quidditch robes regarding the wind... His body was not the only recipient of this change; his mind was under an incessant siege, threatening to strip away his very identity.
Then, the wardrobe. His robes changed to the female school uniform, a strictly pleated skirt that extended just above his knee, paired with black thigh-high socks hugged his newly formed legs. His shoes morphed into shiny Mary Janes, whilst his beloved cloak now hung delicately over his changing form, its prior rough and tumble warmth replaced with the pertinence of delicate femininity.
Harry, or rather, the entity that used to be Harry, traversed the vacant hallways of Hogwarts. The irony was sharp, he defeated a fragment of Voldemort only to have his own identity fragmented, trapped in a body that carried Ginny Weasley's signature trademark flame hair, her spunk, and flair.
His only hope, to reverse this ghastly curse, lied in the magic he knew, in the love for his friends that in his heart glowed. Desperately clinging onto the dwindling sense of his self, Harry braced himself for the biggest battle of his life – a battle against a crafty spell, against Voldemort's morbid legacy. Another journey in a world where magic could be a solicited gift, or a dire calamity. One thing was certain though, Harry Potter was not going down without a fight. The boy who lived now faced yet another challenge, as the girl who's body he inhabited.
This story was generated by user bob94 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Harry Potter a young wizard at hogwarts school of witch craft and wizardry finds himself in another predicament where when he destroys a horcrux of voldemorts a curse starts to turn him to ginny Weasley body and mind in a detailed way first his hair becomes long and red and then the rest of his body then his clothes changed to the female uniform a skirt black thigh high socks and Mary Jane's
Response: Title: Harry Potter and the Cursed Duplicate Harry Potter was barely breathing, tense with exhaustion and resolve, in His last confrontation with the curse-infused object – a Horcrux of Voldemort. As he plunged the Basilisk fang into the locket, it emitted a ghastly scream, revealing the soul piece residing within. A cold, dark energy swathed Harry, contemplating his fate to which he was inextricably linked; little did he know, a twisted outcome awaited him. Suddenly, he trembled violently as an unfamiliar sensation prickled his scalp. He instinctively reached for his hair; instead of the familiar black tussles, he felt long, silky strands rustling through his fingers. He gazed at his own reflection in the darkened locket, a shock of flaming red hair now cascaded down his shoulders. "Merlin's beard!" Harry was visibly taken aback - his hair didn't just grow longer, it had been transformed into Ginny's flaming red locks. A jolt of unbearable pain coursed through his body. What followed next was excruciating, undescribable horrors that Harry would have even wished to face more Dementors than enduring. Gradually, and tormentingly, his musculature softened, limbs lengthened and curves confined to his body in an all too familiar shape. Harry collapsed onto the stone floor of the chamber, his reflection bearing the uncanny resemblance of Ginny Weasley. He could feel an invasion in his mind, a foreign consciousness bearing upon his own. Memories that weren't his own began flooding, moments with the Weasley family, late-night visits to the kitchens with Hermione, the feel of his - no, Ginny’s Quidditch robes regarding the wind... His body was not the only recipient of this change; his mind was under an incessant siege, threatening to strip away his very identity. Then, the wardrobe. His robes changed to the female school uniform, a strictly pleated skirt that extended just above his knee, paired with black thigh-high socks hugged his newly formed legs. His shoes morphed into shiny Mary Janes, whilst his beloved cloak now hung delicately over his changing form, its prior rough and tumble warmth replaced with the pertinence of delicate femininity. Harry, or rather, the entity that used to be Harry, traversed the vacant hallways of Hogwarts. The irony was sharp, he defeated a fragment of Voldemort only to have his own identity fragmented, trapped in a body that carried Ginny Weasley's signature trademark flame hair, her spunk, and flair. His only hope, to reverse this ghastly curse, lied in the magic he knew, in the love for his friends that in his heart glowed. Desperately clinging onto the dwindling sense of his self, Harry braced himself for the biggest battle of his life – a battle against a crafty spell, against Voldemort's morbid legacy. Another journey in a world where magic could be a solicited gift, or a dire calamity. One thing was certain though, Harry Potter was not going down without a fight. The boy who lived now faced yet another challenge, as the girl who's body he inhabited.
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