Harry sat, stock still and horrified at Snape's finishing statement. He had begun to fear what he was telling him near the very start of his story, and it soon was replaced with acute denial. Harry felt his breathing begin to speed up without his approval, his hands trembled and his throat burned. It couldn't be true! This is just a nightmare! He'll wake up any moment now … any moment …

“Potter? Are you listening to me?”

Harry's head snapped up and his eyes gradually focused on Professor Snape, who was still sitting in front of him, though now he was leaning forward, appearing almost concerned. As though in a daze, Harry looked around him, his mind telling him that this was real.

But, if it is real … then my father isn't my real father? Harry thought suddenly, a sense of revulsion and horror sweeping though his body and mind like nothing he'd ever felt before. My mother was raped! My father is a Deatheater!

“Oh my God!” Harry gasped, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep his breathing steady. “I – I'm one of His!! He – he made me!” Harry stopped suddenly and swung his eyes to meet Snape's. “But he tried to kill me!” he spluttered, running his hand through his hair and sitting up further. “If I was something he made then why would he do that?”

“Quite simply, Potter,” said Snape, eyeing him down as though studying him. “The Avatar's were soon seen to be too powerful, and unsatisfactorily uncontrollable. So Voldemort set out to destroy you all before your powers began to manifest fully. He caught the first three in more than enough time. The Avatar's weren't meant to start developing their more potent powers until about your age … the speed of the transformation determining the power of the Avatar. You, however, had already developed one of an Avatar's most powerful abilities, by the time the Dark Lord had tracked you down … unbeknownst to him … and had already begun to show the physical appearance that an Avatar would have.

“By the mere fact that your powers were showing by the age of one, and your appearance was changing already, I won't even ponder on the power you could wield at your fingertips, Potter. But the ability you had developed already, by the age of one, was the ability to absorb any and all spells that strike you, when desired … momentarily increasing your magical and physical strength. Before you ask, Potter, no. Lily wouldn't have known that you already possessed this power … but her sacrifice was still needed to reflect the Avada Kadavra back onto Voldemort. It was also because of this incident, that I believe is why you've not demonstrated your powers before now…”

“Why's that, Sir?” Harry asked softly, still too awed and horror struck at the same time to speak any louder, or say any more in general.

“As you were only one, Potter,” said Snape, leaning back in the small chair, “I doubt you would have had any control over your powers or abilities. I believe that when you were hit by the Killing Curse, you unconsciously burned up most of your magical energy and used it to greatly magnify the efficiency of the Curse … which would explain why Voldemort's body – despite all of the magical alterations – was utterly destroyed in the aftermath; your unintentional enhancements creating such a force that your home, in Godric's Hollow was also destroyed. Your magical reserves have only now replenished enough for your transformation and abilities to resurface, and even in this weakened state, your changes are happening rapidly.”

“How is it that you know all of this, Sir?” Harry asked, frowning up at the Potions Master, though still feeling a physical sickness at how he'd come into existence and why. “You said that you only just found out I was an – an Avatar. How do you know that's the way things could have happened?”

“Because I was the one that had to know absolutely everything about what Voldemort wanted the potions I had to brew for the ceremony for. I needed to know the powers, how they would work, how they would manifest, how those powers would effect the body they were infused with. These idea's are only theory on my part … but then, aside from Voldemort himself, I am the only other person that knows the workings of an Avatar to the extent I do.”

Harry nodded … still feeling ill and shocked at what he'd been told. He knew that he didn't fully comprehend what Snape had told him so far … but tomorrow was another story. He will have plenty of time to dwell on all this information, and he wasn't looking forward to letting it all sink in.

“You said that the “Magical Community” knew what an Avatar was, Sir,” Harry started, risking a glance at Snape's face for an instant before returning his eyes to his lap. “Does that mean that almost everyone has heard of them, even though they were supposedly killed off, and that they knew who they were originally made for?”

Harry looked up again and waited for Snape to answer.

“That's correct, Potter,” he answered eventually, though his smooth voice seemed strangely comforting at present. “If anyone was to discover what you are …” he left the statement unfinished, and Harry knew that he didn't need to finish it. He would be shunned … hated … tossed aside by the very people who praise him for bringing about the supposed destruction of his very own creator.

“You – you also mentioned that an Avatar's powers effect it's body, Sir?” Harry stumbled slightly, but Snape appeared to ignore it. “How would it change me?”

Snape shifted in his chair and scratched his chin. “That's something that I find strange with you, Mr Potter,” he answered. “With your powers beginning to manifest again, your physical characteristics should have picked up where they left off. But there is no change in you other than your stature and build … and some of your facial structure. Your appearance should have changed much more dramatically than that by now…? Not only that, but you should have displayed the alterations you gained by the time you were one … yet you still look completely human…”

Harry stared at the wall opposite for a while, before deciding to voice his next question. “Why do I look like my Dad, if he wasn't my father, Professor?”

Harry saw a shadow flicker behind Snape's cool expression, before it vanished as though it was never there, intriguing him to no end. What had caused that shadow to emerge in the icy Potions Master and why? Was it something he had said? Harry immediately set about going over what he'd said in the last couple of minutes, but before he could get anywhere, Snape was answering his question.

“You look like James Potter because your Mother gave you a very powerful Appearance Altering Potion when you were an infant. So strong in fact, that it's lasted not quite sixteen years. In a few days, it will have worn off completely, and you will look as you were meant to. It's already started to fade, which is why your hair has grown overnight, along with small changes to your facial and body structure.”

“Do you know who my father is, Professor?” Harry blurted out before le lost the nerve. He knew that Snape had already told him that none of them knew who had taken whom … but maybe there was a chance? Almost instantly however, all of Harry's hope's were dashed and replaced with near terror, as Snape threw him an expression of absolute rage, before leaping from his chair with such a force it was knocked over, and stepping forward, bringing himself to the very edge of Harry's bed, looming over him, oblivious to the panicked expression on his face and violent tremors in his thin frame.

“I've already told you, Potter, that we didn't know who was taken nor by whom!” spat Snape venomously, making Harry cringe backwards, his breathing extremely rapid and ragged. “How the hell am I supposed to know who your father is, boy? Not that I actually give a damn! Your father could have been Lucius Malfoy for all I know!”

Snape stopped, still leering over Harry menacingly, and still ignorant of his panicked state … though at the last statement his pallid tone became, if possible, even paler than before, giving him a greenish hue. Slowly steadying his breathing, Snape straightened up and attempted to regain his composure, and appearing almost apologetic of his outburst.

Harry, however, was still curled up at the top of the bed, pressed against the headboard in a futile attempt to put more space between himself and the Potions Master. He was still shaking uncontrollably and breathing quickly, seemingly unable to stop the terror that had overtaken him at such an acute reminder of his Uncle. Harry had his eyes squeezed closed and his knees pulled to his chest, trying to banish the painful images that swam over his vision, of the many treatments he'd received from Vernon in the past.

Suddenly, a firm grip closed about Harry's shoulder, pushing him to his breaking point. In a heartbeat, Harry had ripped his arm from the person's grip and thrown off the bed sheets, landing in a pile on the opposite side of the bed and scrambling away, pressing himself against the stone wall in an effort to hide himself.

Vaguely, through the rushing in his ears, and the deafening pounding of his heart, Harry could hear someone speaking his name, calling out to him gently. Slowly, Harry's breathing steadied, following the voiced instructions, and began to relax. Vernon wasn't there Harry thought, his mind beginning to clear up. You're at Hogwarts. Nothing's going to hurt you…

Feeling worn out, and breathing heavily, Harry opened his eyes, to find himself staring into the onyx eyes of professor Snape, who was currently kneeling beside him and looking strangely worried. The expression lasted only a moment though, before the normal blank mask was back in place.

Snape stood swiftly and continued to stare down at Harry, though without the menacing glare he would have expected at this time, before slowly extending a hand palm upwards, in offering.

Hesitantly, Harry took it and allowed the Professor to assist him in standing, not daring to look him in the eyes after losing control so easily in front of him. He was waiting for the embarrassing jibes and insults to fly, but they never came.

“I apologize for my outburst, Mr Potter,” said Snape, sounding regretful. “I didn't mean to cause you such distress … but your question touched upon a sensitive subject. That doesn't excuse my actions I know, but you needed to know the reasons behind them.”

Harry nodded his understanding and looked away, feeling quite ashamed of his panic attack. As he looked at the floor, Harry noticed again that he was still shirtless, but that realization went by the wayside, as he saw that the ground was further away than normal.

Startled, Harry looked up at Snape, who seemed to have noticed his confusion, and discovered that he no longer came to the man's shoulder anymore. More accurately, he was now not quite eye to eye with him … and Severus Snape stood at around six foot two.

“It seems I was inaccurate with my earlier prediction, Mr Potter,” Snape was also looking Harry up and down, taking in the new proportions. “You didn't get just a bit taller. You grew about six inches.”

Harry was dazed and stared back at Snape with wide eyes, when suddenly a flash of pain tore through him, setting his bones on fire as he fell to his knees, crying out as the pain intensified around his feet and face.

Distantly, he could hear Snape saying his name, but he couldn't respond. He couldn't move. The agony spiked again, but Harry grit his teeth against the scream welling in his tight throat. He could feel the bones and muscles in his feet bend and shift, but had no idea what was happening. The same sensation permeated his face, as he felt his teeth shift and change, along with his ears and something on his forehead.

Finally, the pain subsided and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, only to suck in a sudden breath, and slap his hand over his face, as his eyes burned white hot in their sockets for a moment; the pain from it too, vanishing eventually along with the rest.

Harry groaned softly and made to stand again, feeling a supporting arm grasp him around the waist.

“Professor?” Harry gasped at the sound of his voice. It was a deep and rumbling baritone, possessing something of a silkiness about it. Surprised, and standing unsteadily on unfamiliar feeling feet, Harry opened his eyes and let out a yelp of alarm, just as the person beside him sucked in a surprised breath.

As Harry let his eyes roam about the Ward, the world seemed a foreign place. His vision was no longer as it used to be. A myriad of colourful vapour seemed to fill the Ward, and some of the items in the room seemed to glow with an intense light, varying in colour and power. Not only that, but the actual physical items and furniture, all looked like they were made of shadow … but he could still see the details in white, as though the world was made of black and white, and his own vision had been inverted.

“Professor, what's going on?” Harry hated how this powerful voice was reduced to a panicky squeak, but currently he couldn't care. He turned to look at his Professor just as his arm left his side, and found himself almost amused by what he saw if it weren't for his current anxiety.

Professor Snape now looked as though he was dressed in the whitest of robes, along with his hair (which now also appeared white). Everything that was dark was now pale, and visa versa. His face seemed to be the blackest of black, while his eyes and eyebrows were white. And not only that, but there was a huge aura of colour surrounding the Potions Master.

At the moment though, Harry's eyes were focused on the expression his Professor wore. It was one of supreme alarm, mixed with what he saw as fear; the colour and pattern of the aura surrounding him telling him the same thing.

“What happened to me?!!” Harry shouted, taking a step towards Snape; his feet feeling alien. Without waiting for an answer, Harry looked down at himself, seeing normal colouring instead of the inverted ones of the world around him. What made him blanch, however, was the state of his feet. Each was now endowed with two inch claws on the three large toes he possessed; now shaped so that he could only stand on the ball of the foot, with knees slightly bent in order to stay balanced. His heels had grown backwards a little, and an inch long claw protruded from them as well.

Harry looked up and glanced around him wildly, praying that his sight would return to what he knew any moment. His breathing roared in his ears, making every other sound mute. He could see Snape's mouth moving, but Harry ignored him. Wanting desperately to see what had happened to him, Harry swivelled and darted towards the doors, unaware that as Snape moved to block him, he swung an arm and connected with his chest, sending the man flying across the room and colliding with the floor sickeningly.

Harry leapt over the bed beside him and darted forward, hearing Madame Pomfrey's voice shrieking behind him, but not knowing where it was directed. Hitting the double doors at a dead sprint, they flew open with a deafening crash, almost being ripped from their hinges from the force of the blow.

In a panic, Harry sprinted down the hallway with uncanny speed in search for anything that gave a reflection. He darted down the side corridors towards the nearest bathroom, splintering the door as he collided with it, hurling himself toward the nearest mirror.

***

“Severus! Severus, are you alright?”

Snape opened his eyes groggily, grimacing as he was helped to sit up, feeling his body ache all over. He looked around as Poppy started to check him over, seeing the huge oak doors of the Hospital Wing all but torn from their frames.

“Where is he, Poppy?” he rasped, struggling to stand against the Matron's wishes. “Where did he go? Did you see him?”

“Who, Severus?” she snapped impatiently, her hands on her hips. “If you mean that strange looking creature that splintered my doors, then he tore out of here in a right hurry. Did he do this to you?” Poppy took a quick glance around the ward. “Where's Mr Potter? He should be in bed!”

Snape ignored her and started towards the door, determined to find the boy and calm him down. He was obviously in a panic, confused by what was happening to him. He himself had been alarmed when Potter had collapsed before him, only to see his feet mutate into clawed horrors, and see a pair of small horns sprout from his brow, following his scull and curving backwards. His skin had turned a shade of silver, his ears grew upwards and tapered into a point, and his muscles had filled out some more, not to mention growing another two inches in height. He spoke, and Snape caught sight of a set of vicious fangs on his top and bottom dentures.

He had instinctively helped the boy stand, but he couldn't hold in his gasp of uncontained surprise mixed with horror, when he opened his eyes. They were perhaps even more eerie than the Dark Lords. His eyes had turned black, his iris was without a pupil … and it was glowing emerald green. He'd seen these sinister eyes dart frantically around the room, search over him briefly, before catching sight of his own body and bolting.

Snape knew that he hadn't intended to strike a blow on him, and that it was a reflex action, especially in the state he was in … but that didn't stop him from being rather annoyed.

“Where are you going, Severus?” Poppy demanded suddenly, just as he reached the doors. “You could be injured!”

Snape whirled to shoot out a retort, but didn't get there as an animalistic scream echoed through the hallways, making Snape cringe with the emotions clearly heard in the shriek. It was a mix of a roar, an ear splitting shriek, and a human scream, all projecting the absolute horror and revulsion the creature was feeling at that moment.

“What on earth was that, Severus?” Poppy's shaky voice spoke up tremulously, almost on the verge of tears as the emotions that travelled with the shriek enveloped her.

“That was Harry,” Snape answered, shuddering as the turbulent emotions washed over him, not realizing he'd referred to Harry by his first name.

Poppy stared at Snape, speechless for a moment as the news sank in. “That was Harry?” she breathed, taking a small step in the direction of the anguished cry, as though believing it was something she could heal. “What on earth happened to him?!!!”

“That would be a question best answered by the Headmaster, Poppy,” Snape explained shortly, mimicking Poppy's earlier movement and heading towards the origin of the scream, though he wasn't stopping. “If Albus should arrive, tell him I am heading for the second or third floor bathrooms on this side of the castle!” he yelled over his shoulder. “And tell him that Harry has just reached Stage One!!”

He didn't even wait for Poppy to acknowledge that she had heard, before he tore off down the hallways as fast as he could go, unknowingly beginning to pray that his son was alive and well…