See's her new self in the mirror.

And nearly jumped out of her new skin. The closet door was open, revealing the full length mirror inside. Seeing the unfamiliar figure out of the corner of her eye gave Harry the knee-jerk reaction of thinking that a stranger had suddenly appeared behind him.

But thankfully before he could give herself a heart attack, it clicked.

"Oh Hell. Just about did myself in there." Harry muttered breathlessly. Hand over beating heart, she had a dark chuckle at the thought of 'The Boy Who Lived' accidentally killing himself and saving Voldemort the trouble.

With her hand there though, over a soft, no longer flat chest, it started to sink in what had actually happened. He really was now a She.

Tentatively stepping across the room, Harry stood before the mirror to take a more proper look at the changes accidentally made.

He was now so... Girly. For his age, Harry would have thought he'd come out looking more like the pictures of his mother post-graduation. Or, with her black hair, one of the several adult females of the Black family line. She instead seemed younger, appearing more like a girl closer to the halfway mark of her seven year education at Hogwarts as opposed to one nearing the end.

"Maybe Ginny's hair knocked me down some in age?" Harry pondered. Strange, since there was only a year difference between them. Maybe the women born of the Potter line simply aged a little slower. While he didn't have any examples to go off of, it seemed as good a guess as any.

Maybe he'd made himself into Ginny's half twin sister somehow and they were actually the same physical age now. What were the odds she Harry would have to redo fifth year?

Smirking, Harry lifted his night shirt off over his head - a slightly odd experience with long hair - and carelessly shucked off his pants and knickers. He'd done this all to get in a secret peek at Ginny. Might as well get what he'd come for, this being his own maybe natural girl form or possible half Ginny twin form aside.

Harry wasn't disappointed.

His once short, untameable mess of black hair was now her full, wild raven locks that came to spill just past her shoulders. Eyes that somehow seemed a little more vibrant without changing from their original startling green. A nose less present and more dainty. Lips, suddenly quite kissable. A slimmer jawline free of peach fuzz.

Lower, a neck and shoulders undeniably slender. And most importantly...

Boobs!

Harry didn't know if he should laugh like a cartoon villain or if she should giggle like a schoolgirl, but the impossible had finally been achieved. Harry James Potter had literally gotten his hands onto a pair of boobs!

He did a mentally jig in his head, basking in glory of it all as her newly elegant fingers fondled the tits to their hearts content. Sure, they were her own tits, but as the Americans would say, Second Base was still Second Base... Or was boob touching third base? She'd have to look into that later.

After a time in heaven, Harry came back to earth to take in the new additions more objectively.

They weren't what anyone would label as big, unfortunately, though he'd known Ginny was no Lavender Brown long before he'd ever even thought to brew the potion. Instead they were comfortably in what Harry would think a good 'medium' size would be. Their shape, a gloriously full teardrop shape, more then made up for any issue of size that could be had. The perfectly place nipples of a beautiful pink shade - now proudly stiff from all the attention they'd received - made for the appropriate cherry's to top off the treats.

And to think she was only half done!

Hands slid lower, across a wonderfully soft yet toned tummy - thank you Quidditch! - to the meat and potatoes to the already enjoyed dessert.

Hips, like the breasts, were somewhere in the middle, this time being between a slender girlyness and a fuller womanhood. They supported a delightful rump, firm yet relatively full. Harry involuntarily wondered how much the top and bottom would continue to fill out if she kept this form long term.

But she gave a shake of the head, sending her mane bouncing. He had no plans whatsoever on staying like this for an extended period. And he probably didn't have the choice, either. Polyjuice potion only last for an hour normally, though he'd heard the skill of the brewer could make it last longer or shorter.

Harry sighed in disappointment. While he didn't want to stay a she forever, a few hours at least would be nice. A good amount of time to explore, enjoy, and maybe even gain some insight in how to pleasure a woman.

But even though he hadn't used all his miss-made potion on the first go, polyjuice potion normally had a short shelf life, meaning chances were his potion wouldn't keep till he got back to Hogwarts. And if how easily she'd fallen into breast fondling was any example, she didn't trust herself to delve further into female pleasures while still under the Dursleys roof. Petunia would barge in here after picking up the slightest odd noise to demand answers, and Harry did not want to find out how his Uncle and Aunt would react to discovering some strange woman lost in the euphoric throes of diddling herself on their unwanted nephews bed. It was a miracle they hadn't heard him collapse earlier. Vernon must have snored at the exact same time he'd hit the floor.

...

On the other hand though, she wasn't Harry Potter, was she? Harry Potter was a boy with a scar on his head. Harry Potter had to remain at the Dursleys.

She didn't, did she?