Harry's journey away from the Dursleys grew hazy after that. He distinctly recalled being told to drink something at one point, and after that only a sense of peace and a very vivid dream where he was hunting in a jungle. He never did catch his prey.

When he awoke again, truly awoke not drifting in a state of half sleep, he found himself lying on something soft and warm and so comfortable that he almost went straight back to sleep. Then he felt his bed move.

This ought to have alarmed Harry, but all he felt was an overwhelming sense of peace. Just as the Dursleys had given off waves of anger, hatred, and fear, Harry now felt only calm and warmth and safety. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no harm would come to him. Unfortunately, he was now awake enough to notice the nagging ache in his shoulder. The pain sparked a memory of teeth and tearing and Harry's eyes shot open in alarm.

'Relax,' a voice whispered, caressing and gentle, and the momentary panic left him. Now that he was awake, however, he wasn't about to fall back asleep. Looking at his surroundings he found himself to be curled up next to a large, warm body of black fur. Harry pushed his head free of the large panther and found that they were lying together upon a bed to a perfectly normal looking bedroom. This surprised Harry slightly. He had been dreaming about a jungle and had half expected to wake up there. Wanting a better view, Harry struggled to climb the mound of soft fur and rippling muscles, only to collapse back again at the jolt of sharp pain when he put weight on his left front leg.

He could feel as the dark panther sighed, and then his momentary bed was shifting and gently extracting itself from him until he was left lying on a mound of blankets with a great feline towering over him. Under normal circumstances Harry would have been terrified. The panther was enormous, all sleek muscle and black silk and exuding a grace that Harry had been imagining when he first realized he was a cat. Large and dangerous looking though the creature was, however, Harry could sense nothing of danger coming from him. Harry sat up, this time careful not to put weight on his left leg. Suddenly the panther rippled, shifted, and transformed into a man in a long black robe. The man's hair was the same glossy black as the panther's and his eyes did not seem to have changed at all except to fit his very familiar face.

Neither did the smell of safety and comfort change. Harry stared up at him, puzzled and vaguely glad that the man wasn't naked. This wasn't a man Harry had ever particularly liked or gotten along with, even if he had drastically toned down his classroom favouritism with the end of Voldemort. Professor Severus Snape allowed Harry's slow inspection with an unexpected patience. Then he stood, adjusted his newly formed robes more comfortably, and walked over to a desk where several vials of potions were laid out as well as what appeared to be a baby bottle. It was the bottle that Snape was going for, as well as his wand. He laid a charm over the bottle that Harry didn't recognize and then made his way back towards the bed.

“I know you are very confused right now, Harry,” Snape said, speaking to him directly for the first time, “And I will explain everything, but first I want you to take this potion.” Then he pulled Harry into his lap and offered him the bottle's nipple. Harry eyed it dubiously and then looked up at Snape. The man rolled his eyes, obviously recognizing Harry's reluctance.

“It's the best way while you're still injured,” Snape insisted, “Unless you want to risk choking or drinking too fast and getting sick.” Harry thought he would very much rather risk that than to drink from a bottle. If he could figure out how to speak without the proper vocal chords he would be informing Snape of that, vehemently. Snape growled softly under his breath, but he did finally unscrew the nipple and offered it to Harry again. This time, Harry opened his mouth and allowed the liquid to be poured down his throat. Despite Snape's muttered threats of choking or spilling, the man was very careful that he didn't drown the cub and Harry managed to swallow it easily. It turned out to be milk with the faint taste of a healing potion.

After Harry finished Snape laid him gently back onto the bed while he put the bottle away. Harry immediately tried to stand up, favouring his left leg. He tried to twist his head about to get a good look at the wound only to be stopped when Snape returned to the bed, this time sitting next to him.

“Let me begin with the obvious,” Snape said. Harry looked up at him attentively, feeling strange to see him in professor mode without the malice or the constant threat of detentions. “You are not entirely human,” Snape continued, “Neither are you entirely not human. Genetically speaking, you are a throwback to the dawn of magic. I do hope you paid some attention during your history lessons?” Harry simply stared at him, his confusion evident. All he could remember from history was a long bout of goblin wars. Snape sighed in apparent disgust at his ignorance but Harry was too curious at the moment to care. Besides, he got a distinct sense that Snape didn't really mean it.

“At the dawn of magic, witches and wizards were created when humans mated with creatures of magic. The veela, the vampires, giants, centaurs, and even goblins or house elves can be found within a witch or wizard's genes. Sometimes certain traits of these creatures will crop up, especially if the witch or wizard's relation to the creature is very recent. I believe your friend Hagrid is proof of this. Very, very rarely, so rarely in fact that it is scarcely heard of, these genes become completely dominant during your magical awakening, which happens around your seventeenth birthday. In your case, your blood can probably be traced back to the sphinx.”

Harry considered the professor's words. At least they made more sense than his coming of age letter had, and it certainly explained a good deal more. He did not, however, understand what some Egyptian statue of a part lion part woman with no nose had to do with him and Snape turning into panthers. And it certainly didn't explain why Harry had turned into a youth or why he made such a small panther. He was certain that seventeen was entirely too old to be considered a cub. If anything, he aught to be an elder among panthers. And he still hadn't managed to really look at himself to see what he had become. Being unable to voice any of his curiosity or frustrations, he had to settle for continuing to listen and hoping that Snape happened upon his questions.

“And I suppose the half giant never got around to the sphinx in all his lessons,” Snape remarked, his tone surprisingly more resigned than condescending before he went on to explain. “A sphinx is widely considered in myth to be a creature half woman and half lion. It is also considered a wise creature who likes to challenge passer bys in riddle games. As always, myth contains a grain of truth along with the fantasy.” Harry remembered his own encounter with the sphinx during the third task of fourth year and thought that the mythology was surprisingly accurate. “A sphinx is part cat and part humanoid. Obviously, the cat part does not need to be a lion. Neither does the sphinx need to be a woman. A sphinx in his or her full power has the ability to change at will between forms and has even been known to manage a half transformation which is probably where the mythology arose. I'm sure you're happy to know you will not be stuck as a cat forever.”

Harry was happy to know this, but he still wanted to know why he appeared to be a cub. He also would really like someone to explain the sphinx he met in the maze. Was it a fake or was it a real sphinx doing a half transformation like Snape had said? “As for wise,” Snape continued, either oblivious to or simply ignoring Harry's questions, “This part of the myth probably arises from the fact that the sphinx are extremely long lived. It is not unusual for a sphinx to live for thousands of years. They also age much more slowly than humans do.” Here Harry's ears perked up. Perhaps Snape was answering his questions after all. “That is why you are still a cub,” Snape continued, “And I imagine that if you were in humanoid form you would appear much younger than seventeen. You are, in fact, currently the youngest sphinx in existence.”

“We are long lived, but we are also rare,” Snape continued, once he had given time for this information to sink in, “A new sphinx being born to any particular clan only once every hundred years or so. But I will save culture for another time. I can see you are wondering about myself.” Harry was wondering, too. He didn't seem to fit his own explanations. Snape was obviously fully grown, and while that would normally be expected Harry couldn't help but wonder if he shouldn't have looked younger, like Harry, due to the slower growth. And he was definitely not a hundred years older than Harry, so how could it be that a new one is born every hundred years?

“My case is a bit different from yours,” Snape said, “You are a full blooded sphinx, who happens to have dormant human genes. I am a human with sphinx ancestry. I have managed, through my own animagus studies and through a series of potions and spells, to awaken many of my dormant genes. That is why my panther and human forms are so much older. Despite being what would generally be termed as a 'half-blood'” here Snape grimaced with distaste, “I have been welcomed into the panther clan and have spent many years studying the way of the sphinx. Well enough that I was able to hear and respond to your distress call. Do you understand all I have told you?”

Harry blinked at him. As hard as being a cat was to accept, all of this talk of being a sphinx was even harder to get his head around. It didn't help that Harry was becoming sleepy again. He was tired of genetics and history. And his shoulder still ached. Snape sighed, apparently aware of his waning interest.

“Sleep, Harry,” Snape instructed, “I'll explain more when you wake. Then, soon, you can meet the others.” Harry closed his eyes, despite the spark of curiosity he got at the mention of 'others'. He felt a weight settle over the bed, and he cracked open an eye. The panther was back, towering over him protectively. Harry let his eyes close completely. Strange though the situation was, he still felt completely safe.

When he awoke again, the room felt distinctly colder, despite the warm blankets tucked around him. Harry was alone.