Harry awoke again the following morning, remembering the quiet conversation that had taken place between Snape and Remus. What had they been referring to? They had been too far away to hear all of what was said, and that fact irritated him to no end. He blinked a few times, ridding the sleep from his eyes, before turning his eyes sideways and seeing Snape still sitting vigilantly by his side … though now, he was sleeping soundly.

He lay still for a time, staring at the still strange hues and colours that drifted lazily in the air, trying to read their meaning, with little success. He supposed it would make sense to him in time. The large and powerful aura that cloaked the Potions Master was also a mystery to Harry, and the way the world appeared in inverted greyscale was even more nerve-racking. It all served to remind him of what had happened the previous afternoon.

Sighing lightly, Harry looked around, seeing that himself and Snape were alone in the Ward, and decided to go and wash up for the morning. Quietly throwing the covers off, Harry averted his eyes from the sight of his mutated feet and slipped out of bed, feeling the muscles in his legs shift and move in a way that he’d never felt before. He could feel the tightly leashed power and strength that flowed with every movement, as he walked with an unnatural grace towards the bathroom; the claws on his large toes clicking softly on the stone floor.

Averting his eyes from the mirror, Harry bent over the basin and washed his face, cringing as his fingers made contact with the horns that now protruded from his brow. Gingerly, Harry ran his fingers over them, feeling the small ridges as he slid up the curved bone. Bowing his head, Harry felt his long hair fall about his face, as he leant against the white porcelain, relishing the coolness against the palms of his hands.

Why him? Why did the fates always decide to take their vengeance out on him? Harry scrunched up his eyes as he felt a wash of heat enveloped them, swallowing down the sudden tightness in his throat. Sucking in a deep and shuddering breath, Harry opened his eyes, clenching his jaw as he saw a bright green glow reflecting from the shiny basin below him. Averting his eyes, Harry instead looked at his arm, barely realizing that it had practically doubled in diameter, showing the taught muscles magnificently. Anything other than another sign relating to his hideousness.

Unbidden, the image that Harry had seen when he first looked at his reflection, after fleeing the infirmary, flashed into his mind, bringing with it the horror and revulsion he had felt at the sight. His skin was a gleaming silver, crowned with two horns just above each black eyebrow, each a bronze hue; they curved back in perfect streamline with his head, kicking up at the ends, highlighted by the shining black hair that was seemingly fixed, slicked back, only allowing the long trestles free movement.

His ears reached the top of his head, tapering elegantly into a point at the tip, enhancing the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw line. He remembered opening his mouth to issue a scream, seeing the set of lethal fangs adorning his top and bottom teeth, where his canine teeth had been beforehand …… But most of all, he remembered the sight of his eyes. The deepest black surrounded glowing green iris’s, in which no pupil resided…

An animalistic growl issued from the back of Harry’s throat, deep and rumbling with a physical resonance. He was an abomination, designed by his worst enemy for a life of death, destruction, and servitude. He was a creation from pain and terror, forced upon an unsuspecting woman in the vilest fashion. But more than that …… he was garbage. A piece of waste discarded after being found undesirable and unwanted by his maker. No one wanted him. He was as useless as a piece of luggage, continually being passed from place to place when needed, only to be handed off as soon as his appeal waned.

He clenched his teeth against the tightness in his chest, forcing back the swell of emotion threatening to escape him. A sudden knocking at the door startled him from his introspection, standing upright and facing his reflection. He saw wetness on his cheeks and savagely wiped it away as another knock sounded on the wooden barrier.

“Go away,” he called, trying unsuccessfully to keep the emotion from his deep voice. Grabbing a hand towel, Harry dried his face and hands, noticing that he was still only wearing his pyjama pants, when the soft knock echoed in the white (though it looked quite black in Harry’s eyes) room.

“Mr Potter?”

Harry froze as Madame Pomfrey’s voice drifted through the oak, a bite of impatience laced with concern projecting through the words. An unexplainable sensation of panic wrenched through Harry’s chest, and he looked about him, deciding to dart into one of the toilet stalls and slamming the door shut before bolting it. She knocked again, calling his name, and this time Harry heard the door open. In a moment of shame and childishness, Harry threw the small towel he still clutched over his head, hiding his vileness from the aging lady that had helped him so many times.

“Mr Potter, are you all right?” Madame Pomfrey asked quietly as she knocked on Harry’s stall door. “I need to do your morning check up, Mr Potter. Please come out into the Main Ward.”

Harry sighed, knowing she wouldn’t relent until she got her way. He allowed a small smile to grace his face, knowing she would remove the door and drag him out of there if she saw fit to. “Yes ma’am,” he whispered, knowing she had heard him. He listened to her leave the bathroom, noting she left the door open for him to follow her. Sighing again, Harry deftly fixed the hand towel around his head, though keeping his vision free of obstruction, and slowly made his way out into the Ward, hugging himself self-consciously as the cool morning air bit at his bare torso.

“Are you trying for a new fashion statement, Potter?”

Harry winced at the sound of the Potion Masters obvious intent for the question. Why would he expect any different from the brooding and sour Slytherin? Harry looked towards Snape, hoping to project all of his loathing towards him in that single glare … but he knew that there was little point in trying to faze the hard man. Almost nothing got to him.

“That will do, Severus.” Harry’s stomach did a back flip. Dumbledore? What was he here for? “No need to make the lad feel any worse than he does at present now, is there?”

Harry looked at the aged Headmaster, seeing him for the first time with the new way his eyes worked. His normally brilliant white beard and hair were black against the different shades of grey representing the colour on his robes. His fair skin was a darker shade of grey, but Harry could still see a kind smile on his wizened old face.

“Hello Professor Dumbledore,” Harry’s voice was muffled by the towel, but the headmaster still nodded his greetings, pointedly ignoring the timidness of his powerful voice.

“Good morning, Harry,” he replied resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he passed to sit on the bed. As he did so, Harry noticed that he was now taller than the headmaster, something he found strangely disconcerting. So many things had changed overnight. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine sir.”

Dumbledore gazed at him for a moment, as though staring through the towel cocooning his face. Harry shifted uncomfortably, and Dumbledore thankfully relented his gaze. Madame Pomfrey began casting her routine spells, but Harry hardly noticed. He could still feel Dumbledore’s eyes on him, but now he also detected those of the Potions Master. Unconsciously folding his arms to cover his torso, Harry felt the heat rise in his face, embarrassed from all the attention, and almost feeling ashamed of covering his face. It was such a childish gesture that he didn’t really blame Snape for singling the move out.

“Harry?”

He looked up at Dumbledore, and exhaled heavily, nodding at the silent request in his eyes. Haltingly, he reached up and tugged on the towel, shutting his eyes shamefully as his face was revealed to those present. Breathing deeply, Harry pictured all their faces as they looked at him, shuddering as he saw only pictures of disgust and revulsion painted on the faces he respected so much.

Well … except for Snape.

The silence that permeated the Ward was almost stifling. Madame Pomfrey had halted her examination and stood by silently, even though Harry couldn’t see her. It seemed as though all of them had ceased to breathe.

“Open your eyes, Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice was soft and gentle, but Harry knew it was not a request. He hesitated only a moment, not wanting to actually see the horror in the old wizards eyes … but he reluctantly obeyed and looked up, feeling a swell of relief fill his chest at the sight of Dumbledore’s kind and understanding eyes. There was no disgust or hate, as he had feared, and that knowledge that Dumbledore wouldn’t abandon him was all he needed at the moment.

A small and genuine smile touched his lips, and he looked at the ground again, shaking his head at himself, feeling embarrassed by his earlier behaviour.

“Don’t be ashamed of your feelings, Harry,” said Dumbledore, as though reading his mind, as he’d done so many times over the years. “You have them, and are as entitled to experience them as anyone else is.”

A stiff silence followed these words, with no one knowing exactly what to say. The situation was so unique ……

“You seem to have a clean bill of health, Mr Potter,” Madame Pomfrey’s crisp voice sprung up, clearly trying to rid her ward of the mutually uncomfortable air. “Not only have your wounds from your ordeal with your Uncle healed completely, but I would say that your overall health and fitness have increased substantially.”

Harry turned to look at her, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. Once again, Dumbledore seemed to be reading his mind, and asked the Matron what she meant by the statement.

“I mean exactly what I said, Albus,” she answered. “Mr Potter’s overall condition is much better than I’ve ever seen in a living being. His blood pressure is perfect, he’s no longer malnourished, and his cardiovascular condition is almost unnatural. In short, Albus, Mr Potter’s physical body is the quintessence of perfection.”

A short silence reigned after her declaration, but it was soon broken when Harry looked up at her, saying, “You know, don’t you? They told you … about me…”

“Yes we did, Potter,” Snape’s voice cut in, before the Matron could reply to the soft spoken query. “But what else would we do, when she would be the one to treat you? Of course she had to know about you.”

Harry immediately cringed slightly at the condescending tone seeping through Snape’s voice. “I’m sorry, sir … I didn’t think of – ”

“Do not apologize, Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted gently, though he threw a pointed glance towards Snape in the process. “You’re allowed to feel some confusion at present. Actually, I’m surprised you were perceptive enough to realize that in the first place. Now, you’re probably wondering why I am here, Harry, so I’ll get right to the point. Do you wish to tell Miss Granger and Mr Weasley of these new developments?”

Of all the things Harry thought Dumbledore was to talk to him about, that was not one of them. The suddenness of it caught him completely off guard. Did he want to tell them about him? About what he was, and how he was made? Would they accept him if he did?

A tightness settled in Harry’s stomach at the thought of either Ron or Hermione turning away from him, because he wasn’t human and created by the darkest wizard in a century. But … if they did accept him, he would have someone to talk to about it. They would listen, and not be judgmental. They would understand … and he wouldn’t have to hide all the time.

Hope started to brim inside of him, and an idea formed in his mind. If he was going to tell them, he didn’t want to break it to them looking like some kind of monster.

“Yes Sir,” Harry answered Dumbledore’s question firmly. “I would like to tell Ron and Hermione … but … I don’t want them to see me like this without them knowing first. Is there some way for you to change the way I look while I’m with them?”

“Actually, Potter,” Snape spoke up again, but this time Dumbledore didn’t seem to mind him speaking in his place. “There is a way for you to change your appearance. You can do it yourself.”

Harry frowned. “How?”

“It’s one of your powers, actually. You should be able to change your shape into almost anything you wish, when you reach your full potential … but at present, I see no reason why you couldn’t change your general shape back to what it should be.”

Harry grinned impulsively, unwittingly showing off his fangs for all to see. “You mean I don’t have to look like this? I can look like I used to?”

Dumbledore smiled along with him, and Snape’s expression, expectedly, remained the same.

“Alright then, Harry, how does this sound?” Dumbledore started. “I will invite Mr Weasley and Miss Granger here, where you can tell them anything you wish … you don’t have to tell them everything. While we wait for them to arrive, I will get Professor McGonagall to give you some ideas on shape shifting. She could give you some pointers, for obvious reasons. That also means I will have to inform her of recent developments…” he paused for a moment as Harry’s grin faded. “Are you alright with that?”

Harry swallowed nervously. So many people knew of him, and this would add another. Then again, it was McGonagall, and she always had an open mind when it came to such things. That, and she was his Head of House, and would probably need to be told before the start of term anyway.

“Yes Sir,” he replied, nodding his head. “That would be fine … but you might want to warn her about the way I look, before you get let her see me. She might have a heart attack.” Harry shot Dumbledore a crooked grin at the last statement, letting him know he was having a go at himself.

Dumbledore smiled widely and stood from the bed he was sitting on, patting him on the shoulder as he did so.

“As you wish, Mr Potter. I’ll go and inform Minerva of the situation, and then write to your friends. While you wait, why don’t you go for a short walk? Stretch your legs, so to speak? I do believe that Remus is currently enjoying a brisk morning walk around the Lake…”

With that, Dumbledore swept out of the Infirmary, leaving Poppy and Snape alone with him yet again.

Scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably, Harry quickly turned towards the Matron and asked her if it was all right if he went out for the morning.

“Well, actually, Mr Potter,” she answered, raising her eyebrows. “There is no reason to keep you here any longer, for you are in perfect health. You powers of rejuvenation have seen to that. I believe that Professor Dumbledore has planned to let you stay in the spare rooms near the Staff quarters, until Term begins.”

She smiled and handed him a set of robes, saying that they had been enlarged, before wishing him a pleasant morning and leaving him with Snape.