A/N: Disclaimer applies. Just read, I know that's what you really want to do by now.

3 – Ugly Realisations

Harry tried not to scream.

His face was – god –

He dropped the mirror abruptly, heat flaring up his arms and torso as tears of horror began to pool in his eyes, splashing hugely onto the sizzling back of the mirror –

Sizzling. Sizzling - ?

" – five kinds of fool –" Madame Pomfrey was shrieking at the trembling black form of Snape nearby. "What part of don't let him see himself do you not understand, you – you IDIOT –"

Hands, old hands stretched out carefully to take the fallen mirror out of his lap, but Harry swatted them away, ignoring the cries of dismay and warning – "Potter, drop that this instant –"

And looked again.

"Potter –"

"Shut up and let me see," Harry said tersely, taking in the slightly mottled, darker skin, the red that seemed to have seeped into his hair everywhere. Almost as red as Ginny's, he found himself saying inwardly, his thought process a little jerky. He looked like a completely different person – even my nose has changed – and –

"Potter – !"

"Try and take it from me," Harry hissed, the sound disconcertingly musical. He tried not to think about that, in the interest of taking one thing at a time. If my body transforming on me can be called 'one thing'.

"Severus, leave him be," Dumbledore said wearily, and Harry was surprised to see the black robes withdraw from out of the corner of his eye. It made him wonder, again, uselessly, why on earth they were so afraid of him –

And then he saw the claws.

Those were – those were my hands –

The mirror clattered away again, this time, to the floor, where it was snatched up by a Summoning Charm from someone. As Harry stared at the remnants of his hands, he dazedly thought he'd bet that it was Snape –

"Harry, we think –" Pomfrey was coming closer, but for fuck's sake, why wouldn't they just let him alone, he was the one with the bloody wings, the wings –

"Let me finish!" Harry couldn't care less if the world was ending now, he looked – something had happened to him, and he didn't know why or even how and he'd been eating, just a few moments ago –

I can eat, Harry thought desperately, remembering Hermione's admonishment that he wasn't eating enough at lunch. I'll eat – who's got a Time-Turner, send me back, please –

"Potter, Madame Pomfrey was speaking to you." Snape's tone was low and deliberately insulting and in Harry's territory and before he knew what he was doing, his new, garish, twisted body had given the approval for him to stand up and slit the bastard open from top to bottom, in a nicely asymmetrically jagged line – "Potterk!"

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, PUT HIM DOWN – !"

Harry suddenly realised he was staring at Snape's slowly, deliciously asphyxiating face, and understood what was very wrong about the picture. The presumptuous fool wasn't dead yet, so –

Something hit him in the back like a burst of ice, and suddenly Snape was asphyxiating under the cover of Gryffindor colours. Harry somehow fought above the manic urge to keep pressing the life away – see, he's limp, now – and let him go, only to have what felt like a whipcord of raw ice sneak around his shoulders and bind them tightly.

Harry cursed and, for some reason unknown to him, tried to fly, or –

BOOM.

The room shook violently as an unearthly fire seemed to light before his very eyes, as if it was doing all it could to keep him in place, to keep him caged, like an animal, like the animal he was now, and Harry suddenly couldn't stand for it, because he'd been caged all fucking summer, and Sirius – oh Sirius –

That thought sang through his mind for what felt like an age, and the aching muscles in his back abruptly relaxed, wings drooping heavily to the ground and taking him with them. More ice whipped around him – securely, but not tight enough that the urge to escape, to fly rose enough in him for him to try to –

My head hurts, Harry thought desperately, only just recognising the shaky Ennervate in the background as Pomfrey's. He felt so destabilised, so horribly out of balance, especially in the stone room, which reeked of humans and medicine and burns and suffering, and –

How am I smelling that! Harry screamed at himself. What happened to me –

"Harry," Dumbledore's voice, even wearier, momentarily breached the iron clamps of panic clanging in Harry's ears. "Please listen to me –"

"He – he should be stunned," Professor Snape's voice spat out, in between coughs. "He is clearly dangerous to everyone and most of all to himself, Headmaster –"

"Why did you do that?" Pomfrey almost shouted, obviously in Snape's direction. "Do you know how strong he is? Did you check?"

"No, Poppy, don't blame the dangerous animal on the floor, blame me –"

The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed strangely in the room, silencing even Dumbledore's laborious breaths. Harry twisted curiously in his bindings, despite the raw confusion that seemed to have latched onto him permanently – that almost sounded like a slap –

"You could have DIED!" Madame Pomfrey roared, the raw emotion in her voice shockingly intense. "I don't care what you think of your life – I've saved it enough that I WANT TO SEE IT CONTINUE!"

"Poppy, please –" Dumbledore muttered, sounding obviously shaken.

"Into my office with you," she snapped, as if she hadn't heard Dumbledore's entreaty, sounds of her hustling of the (again, obviously) stunned, unresisting Snape away from Harry. "If you won't be careful around a dangerous creature, as you call him, then you won't have to –"

"Poppy, please –" A door slammed hard, making Harry twitch abruptly in his bindings. Pomfrey must be really angry –

"Don't Poppy please me! I told you he'd be useless," she spat at Dumbledore, voice bitter with some indescribable emotion. "Potter, you'll get a hold of yourself, do you understand? We are trying to help you. We are trying to find something, anything that will enable us to understand your situation. Until then, you must control yourself, especially around that – that idiot in my office, do you understand?" Madame Pomfrey's stout boots stopped in front of Harry's nodding head. "Good." The boots pivoted slightly – "Headmaster? You were speaking to him," – and walked away.

Harry felt the icy bonds shiver around him and fall away into nothing, and saw a hand near him, Dumbledore's hand. He took it without looking – paused to question how on earth he'd seen it from the position he'd been lying in – shook his head.

Did it really matter? Harry followed Dumbledore's gesturing arm back to his bed, which looked strangely charred, making Harry wonder if that had been him, too. For all I know, it could have been. I just wish I knew –

"Please remain calm," Dumbledore muttered, eyes averted, resting on his red-and-green-covered knees. He looked straight at Harry, who nearly flinched at the amount of tiredness and worry concentrated in that gaze. "Please."

Harry nodded. Whatever the hell was driving him to – to lose control, like that, wouldn't be in the driving seat again.

Or so he hoped.

Preview of Chapter 4: The Truth Appears

"You were poisoned," Dumbledore said, haltingly.