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Hmm, Harry smells like roast chicken...





Coughing harshly, Harry staggered out of the Splicing chamber, barely stumbling out of the way as Doctor Rackam charged in, fire extinguisher in hand, gouts of flame-retardent foam bursting from the nozzle and into the sparking and smoking chamber. It took almost a minute for Harry to recover and for the Doctor to be satisfied that the building wasn't going to burn down, but once the two had calmed down, they both chuckled nervously.


Tossing the expired extinguisher aside, the good Doctor moved to check his patient. "Heh heh heh... that's... that's never happened before."


Almost entirely sure that it was all his fault, Harry let the Doctor do his thing, turning this way and that as the rabbit-man checked him out. "So, exploding machinery aside, how's it look?"


Postponing his reply for the time being, Rackam scanned Harry again, and checked the computer to make sure that everything was stuck together properly. "...everything seems to be in order; the jaguar genes, generic 'insect' genes, and 'bird' genes all came together nicely, with no detectable defects. Why don't you take a look in the mirror over there, and see the end result for yourself?"


Harry did so, but hesitated for a brief moment before steeling himself and stepping in front of the reflective surface. "...Splicing is bloody awesome."


The bunny man grinned knowingly. "It is, isn't it?"





"Now, while Stacy and I add up your bill, you nip in here and pick out something to fit your new body, free of charge."


Harry's eyebrows rose. "Free clothing?"


Rackam nodded, opening a door marked 'clothing'. "It's a little something for first-time customers. People who come in here can change pretty radically, and they very rarely bring clothes that can fit their new bodies. Here at Splicing Inc, we simply refuse to allow our valued clients to walk out of here in ill-fitting clothing."


Taking a peek at the clothes on offer, Harry quickly noticed- "It's all black."


The doc shrugged. "We have a wide variety of specially modified clothes made in bulk to cut down costs, and most everyone looks good in black. I look good in black, Stacy looks good in black, and in a couple of minutes, you will look good in black. Just don't try and run; it only makes her chase you harder."


Shoved without warning into the room, Harry didn't have time to question the doctor's words before a gold, white, and black blur shot out of a rack of coats and slammed him to the ground, his new wings splayed to the sides.


"Hithereyoulookhotbutyou'dlookhotterinnewclothessincethoseareallcrappylet'sgetstarted!"


The sudden weight hopped off of his chest, and as his vision cleared Harry spotted a spotted cat-woman rummaging through the racks and shelves. "Who the heck are you?"


"I'mClaire!I'macheetahSplicesorrybutI'mstillalittlehyperevenafterthreeweeks!"


Harry only just managed to decypher the machine-gun speech, when a bundle of clothing was shoved into his arms. "What-"

"Theseshouldfitjustfinegoputthemonhurryhurryhurry!"


"Uh...sure."





In the waiting room Doctor Rackam was conferring with Stacy, working out the eventual bill of the newly spliced Harry Potter, when the Gryffindor in question was unceremoniously dragged into the room at high speed and dumped into a chair.


"ThereyougoJohnnythepatientisallwrappedupniceandneatnowgetbackhereandgimmesome sweetbunnyluvin!"


The poor Splicing specialist didn't even have time to scream as he was grabbed and dragged towards the back rooms by an enthusiastic feline female with way too much energy on her hands. It was only once he was locked into a small room with the hyper woman that he realized his predicament.


For their own peace of mind, Harry and Stacy studiously ignored the screams for mercy coming from the back, and set about finalising payment. "So, how much do I owe you?"


Stacy tallied up the various discounts and charges and came up with- "Fifty pounds exactly."


Harry blinked, slitted green eyes now unobstructed by thick glasses. "I thought it was thirty pounds per animal?"


Nodding, the feline explained the deal. "It's thirty pounds per specified animal, plus another fifteen pounds for every additional set of animal genes needed to get the customer's desired effect; in this case the generic insect genes we use whenever someone wants wings on their back. Nice colors, by the way."


Grinning, Harry flexed his deep red, gold-trimmed wings. "Thanks."


Grinning back, Stacy continued. "We have a twenty pound discount if the customer brings in a DNA sample to splice from, like from a pet, and we gave you that one even though the sample you gave us, and almost all data pertaining to it, were destroyed in a bizarre fire. Good faith and all that."


"Thanks!" After a second, the Gryffindor frowned. "Wait, what's the final five pound discount for?"


Stacy chuckled nervously. "That was our 'Please-sign-a-waiver-saying-you-won't-sue-our-sorry-asses-for-almost-torching-you-in-a-Splicing-chamber' discount."


Thinking it over for a second, Harry eventually shrugged, unconcerned. "Sure, I'll sign a waiver. I can still sue you if my wings fall off and I bleed to death, right?"


Handing over a sheet of paper, Stacy indicated where to sign as she explained. "Sure. This waiver just protects us from you sueing us for the malfunctioning Splicing chamber. Anything that happens to you after you step outside those doors that is directly traceable to a faulty Splicing is perfectly sue-able."


"And what are the odds of that happening?"


"Close to nill. Your after-Splicing check up came out clean, so there should be no problems. You should probably come back in after a year for a check-up, just to make sure that everything is holding together nicely."


Harry nodded, understanding. "Sure, sign me up for a check-up in a year's time."


Adding in the appointment to the schedule, Stacy's eyes narrowed in realisation. "You'll be sixteen then, right?"


"Yep."


"Hmm. Did the Doctor give you an eye exam?"


Harry blinked, then shook his head. "No, but I can see perfectly now."


Stacy sighed, exasperated. "Well then, I'll just have to give you a quick test, right here, right now." She held up finger. "Follow my finger, ok?" When Harry nodded, she slowly moved the finger closer to her face, touching her nose, then slowly traced it down her face.


Harry watched, enthralled, as the slender digit travelled over full lips, down over a chin and past a slender throat, until his gaze was locked on the deep cleaveage between a large, firm, furry pair of- "Umph!" -and he completely missed the other hand that reached up and grabbed him by the back of the head, dragging him into a kiss with the curvy feline. The two played a rousing game of tonsil-hockey for several minutes, surprisingly few of which were spent teaching Harry the rules, before they parted with a wet pop, and Harry staggered back, gasping for breath.


Wiping her mouth with a smile, Stacy rather enjoyed the goofy grin on the teen's face. "I'll look forward to giving you a very thorough physical next year, so keep that sexy new body of yours in shape until then, ok?"


Nodding eagerly, Harry forked over the cash and a hefty tip (earning another heated smooch) before he mumbled something that might have passed for 'good-bye' and stepped outside into the chilly evening air. Staggering zombie-like down the street and into an alley, he was so high on hormones that he didn't even notice when he burst into flames and ended up weaving drunkenly down Privet Drive to the house marked '#4'.





High above London, a pair of Dementors paused in mid-flight, their robes billowing sinisterly, before they turned and headed back towards Little Whinging. Had the vile creatures been capable of the full spectrum of human emotion, they might have been exceptionally pissed off about having been given the run-around all day. As they were, all they felt was anticipation and a cruel eagerness.





Far below the twisted creatures, their dark auras made Tom, owner and proprieter of the Leaky Cauldron, shiver. An action copied by the entirety of his customers. Several of those witches and wizards recognised the chill sensations one got from being exposed to Dementors, having been victim once or twice when the creatures roamed Hogsmeade in search of Sirius Black. They, and other magical folk beneath the dementor's flight path, would immediately floo the ministry, adding to the number of dementor sightings that had been trickling into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement all day...





Well, there's Part 2.


Cypher3au