Snape's mind was spinning, as he accompanied Albus and Remus down to the hospital wing, knowing that it was expected of him to explain to Potter, exactly what he was, and what was to happen to him.

The other thing was, how was he going to react to him, now that he knew he was his son? He knew himself that he didn't want to formally acknowledge that fact … but that didn't stop the torrent of strange and foreign emotions from building up in him at the thought. He couldn't be any nicer to the boy, that was obvious. To do so in public would be a huge risk to his position as a spy amongst Voldemort's supporters. However, he knew that he would find it impossible to still treat the boy as he did, with the knowledge that he was … his.

Shaking his head against the inner battle, Snape came back to the present and noticed that they had reached the doors to the Hospital Wing. Unconsciously holding his breath, he waited anxiously as Dumbledore opened the doors, bracing himself to see anything, after Albus's little comment of how Potter's appearance seemed to be already changing.

The doors swung open, revealing the white room, and the small troop entered, heading towards the only two occupants … who seemed to be having something of a disagreement over a steak knife.

Unbidden, a small smirk appeared on Snape's pallid features, before he swiftly forced it away, scolding himself for the momentary slip up. He couldn't start showing any unexpected emotions in the boy's presence, no matter what his relation to him was.

Inwardly, however, Snape felt amused at the small scuffle, wondering how on earth the two got into such a discussion in the first place. Albus chuckled, and the two stopped their argument, looking decidedly sheepish at being seen behaving like five year olds.

It was during the small discussion between Albus and Poppy, that he took his first real look at Potter, feeling his breath catch in his throat at the sight of how much he'd changed since the previous night.

His hair had in fact, grown to just on his shoulders (though some bangs were hanging in his eyes; too short to hook behind his ears), which also seemed to have broadened noticeably, despite the boys apparent slimness. Although, that was sure to change rather dramatically over the next few weeks. And even though he couldn't tell properly, Snape was sure that the boy had gotten a little taller in height … but he would have to wait for him to stand to be sure.

But what had him staring almost blatantly at Potter, was his face. It had most definitely changed the most … even if he could still see some of James in him. Lily's features seemed to be finally coming out, alongside features that were completely foreign to the boys face. His cheekbones were a little higher, and his jaw line was smooth but sharp. He still bore some of James's boyishness, but he was certainly gaining a decisively Snape-ish look. His voice was even a little different. Deeper … smoother … it was actually rather silky like his own.

At that moment, Albus turned to mutter in his ear, whispering about how quickly Potter seemed to be changing. Snape privately agreed with his unspoken conclusion. Potter was changing so quickly, it was almost unthinkable how much power he would be capable of wielding.

Potter suddenly locked his Emerald eyes on his own, almost as if he knew he was thinking about him. They held the contact for a moment, before the boy blushed profusely and drew the covers up over him, only just noticing that he was without a shirt. Snape resisted the smirk that threatened to spread over his lips, but pushed it away, strangely feeling cheated by the fact that he wasn't able to display his amusement at the boy's embarrassment.

He glanced sideways as Lupin lets out a slight chuckle, unrestricted by a cruel persona and able to show his feelings without worry. Potter appeared very reluctant to look at his old professor, and kept his eyes on his lap, still a nice shade of magenta on his face.

Almost reluctantly, Snape found himself unable to resent the boy as much as he did only the previous afternoon, now knowing what he did about his unsavoury home life. He'd always though the Boy Wonder was a spoiled and arrogant delinquent … but the boy before him was rather soft-spoken and unusually shy. A far cry from the image he displayed during the schooling months.

Potter was speaking again, in that voice, so unlike what he was used to hearing, telling Albus about how he had healed so suddenly. Snape took a moment to scrutinize the boy again, realizing that it was true. He had healed all noticeable injuries and bruising … the only one remaining being the wound on his shoulder.

Grimacing inwardly at the image of Potter throwing himself in front of his crazed Uncles weapon, Snape chanced another look at the boys face … only to find the gaze — seemingly now more intense, now that his eyes were no longer hidden by his glasses — locked with his own once more. Immediately, Snape knew that the boy's thoughts rested on that night as well … and seemed to also be unwilling to broach upon it in the near future; something he was only too willing to comply with.

Breaking the contact, Snape listened as his heart hammered against his chest, listening to Albus telling Potter how there was something they needed to tell him. Privately, Snape cursed the old man, for making him divulge the information he'd gathered so many years ago, in such a blunt manner. This wouldn't be easy for anyone to adjust to, let alone a boy who'd been treated the way he had for so long … and that was on top of all that had happened to him during his years at the school.

Snape focused on the matter at hand, as he saw Potter sit up suddenly, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion, fear … and resentment? His attention was so focused, that he ignored the sheets uncovering his torso again, leaning forward, asking what had been withheld.

Both Dumbledore and Lupin fixed their gazes upon him, expecting him to step forward and resume the discussion. Potters eyes had also fixated on him again, and strangely, Snape felt almost intimidated by the hard glare he was receiving from his … son.

“Professor?” Potter asked, a look of mild surprise, along with an expression that screamed, “Of course he would know…”

Hesitantly, Snape fixed his features in the familiar, indifferent mask, and stepped forward, bringing himself to the front of the group, and right next to Potters bedside.

***

Harry forced his breathing to steady, and swallowed the large lump that appeared in his throat, as Professor Snape stepped from behind Dumbledore and Remus, stopping by his side. Hesitantly, he brought his eyes to meet those of the potions master, feeling a small sense of confusion at the seemingly conflicting emotions he could see in the obsidian eyes.

Masking his features as best he could, Harry steadied his breathing and tried to appear relaxed and, almost, unconcerned by what Snape had to say to him. Though inwardly, Harry was scowling at the fact that the Slytherin knew something about himself that had been hidden from him initially.

Surprise, surprise… he thought, feeling his distaste for the man in front of him increase considerably.

Snape seemed to hesitate, but soon drew his wand, making Harry flinch involuntarily, and proceeded to summon a chair for him to sit on. As Harry shook off the sudden jolt of irrational fear, Snape turned his head towards Remus and Dumbledore, telling them to leave them alone, with the merest glance.

Harry had no time to decipher the meaning of the silent message, before Dumbledore turned to Remus and speaking clearly, “Remus, would you care to accompany me, to assist my arrangements of the next Order meeting?”

Remus nodded almost immediately; his eyebrows disappearing into his fringe. “Absolutely Albus! No time like the present! Harry, Severus,” he nodded to the pair in farewell. “I'll see you both later.”

“Gentlemen,” Dumbledore's beard was twitching, and Harry saw Snape shoot an almost contemptuous glare at the older wizard. If Dumbledore had seen it, he ignored it, and mimicked Remus, nodding to them both in turn, before swivelling and striding purposefully away in Remus's wake.

Snape didn't turn back to face Harry until Dumbledore had closed the double doors behind him, only to scowl up at Madame Pomfrey, who had been standing by watching the proceedings silently.

“If you would excuse us, Poppy?” said Snape, his voice not hinting at any malice or dislike, as Harry was accustomed to hearing. He even sounded polite. “Mr Potter and I have some important matters to discuss.”

The Matron pursed her lips and glanced between the two of them rapidly, before finally agreeing, so long as Harry got a descent amount of rest, and wasn't worked up too much.

Snape watched as she marched back to her office and closed the door, before finally returning his gaze to the young man in the bed beside him.

Harry, for a moment, was quite unsure of how to behave around Snape at present; seeing how he'd been the politest he'd ever seen him in the last four years, during the past four minutes. Yes, he was still a Greasy Bastard, but currently, he was an indifferently pleasant … Greasy Bastard. And when Snape had first stepped forward, Harry was sure he had seen some small semblance of concern and — almost alarmingly — compassion. Directed towards himself, no less.

Before Harry could sort out the jumbled up messages and signals in his mind, Snape quietly started to speak, drawing his attention back towards the task at hand. What was happening to him, and why…

“All right Potter,” Snape started abruptly, his voice carrying the coldness and indifference that Harry was so accustomed to hearing. “I'll get straight to the point then. The reason you have been healing at an incredible rate, and the mild differences in your appearance and body structure have started, is because you are what is known to the wizarding world as an Avatar.”

Harry stared at the potions master, completely at a loss as to what the man had just said. “A what?” he asked, bewilderment plastered to his sharper features.

“An Avatar, Potter. Use your ears.”

“Professor, I haven't got the faintest idea what an … an Avatar even is? I've never heard of them before?”

Snape scowled at him thoroughly. “Well then maybe you should learn to read, Potter. Avatars are mentioned briefly in the book entitled: The rise and fall of the Dark Arts. I'm sure Miss Granger will have mentioned it to you at least once in the past five years.” Harry nodded sheepishly. “Very well then. Seeing as you've no clue what I am referring to, I shall explain. Do not interrupt me, Potter.”

Feeling a little curious, and more than a little concerned, Harry nodded his head, telling Snape to explain what he meant, and that he wouldn't interrupt.

“An Avatar, Potter,” Snape began, delving into his Professor demeanour almost instantly, “is what we – meaning the Magical Community – remember as being one of the nearest things that would have given Voldemort unchallenged domination, when he first started his campaign of terror around twenty years ago. In the beginning, Voldemort wanted absolute personal power. Immortality and the like. You have seen the results of the many transformations he had performed on himself to attain that goal … but he could never go as far as he wanted.

“You see … before Voldemort performed an alteration on himself, he would test it on his death eaters, making sure it did as he desired, and that it would not hurt him in the process. However, he soon learned that the human body could only withstand so much. When Voldemort neared the powers he desired the most, he discovered that the body simply couldn't handle the sudden influx of immense power, and it exploded … burnt up.

“Initially, Voldemort was in a raging fury at having his ultimate perfection snatched from him … but soon, he thought along a different line, and tried experimenting on ways for the human body to cope with the immense powers he wanted it to hold. Many of the first test subjects died … quite horrifically … and the Dark Lord's patience was wearing thin. But then he thought of a new concept.

“He theorised, that the only reason the past tests had been failures, was because they were born and grown, with their bodies already accustomed with a certain amount of magical energy, and it had adjusted to that only … unable to cope with much more. So he believed that if a baby was conceived with these immense powers already infused with it's being, than it would grow and develop to accommodate for it all. It would be born with the ability to use all these powers, and not risk a magical explosion. Thereby constructing the Elite of his followers … even higher than the Deatheaters.

“On Halloween, seventeen years ago, Voldemort sent out some of his Death Eaters to kidnap a certain number of women at random. I did not go out with them, because I was preparing the potions necessary to infuse these transformations. The other Deatheaters returned, and all the women were charmed by Voldemort himself, with some of the ancient spells he had used on himself. My potion was given to those Deatheaters present … and then they were ordered to rape them.”

Snape paused, momentarily unable to continue due to the tightness in his throat at the memory of who he had taken that night. He chanced a good look at Harry, and saw that he was a great deal paler than he was before he'd started his explanation, and that his green eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them before … and they began to shine with a horrifying understanding, as what he was saying fell into place. Snape saw the very slight trembling in Harry's hands, and knew that he had to finish this part of the story before the boy snapped.

“Now, you have to understand, Potter, that the women, as soon as they arrived at our Camp, were put under powerful glamour charms. We had no idea who was taken and not. The only one who knew that was Voldemort himself. Well, naturally, nine months later, the only four that had conceived were born … and it has just come to light that you were one of them.”