Title: Lusus Naturae

Chapter: Chapter Eight

Rating: M for Mouthful

Warnings: Abuse, Death, Weasleys.

A/N: Twists and turns coming up. I've got a canon timeline pulled up. Call me invested.

Harry stood in the bathing chamber off the hall that now connected his private bedroom to Professor Snape's quarters. His nightgown sat discarded on the tiled floor near his feet. Nearby, a claw-foot porcelain tub magically filled with hot water. Steam rose up in great plumes that wafted through the air around him, fogging up the full-length mirror before him.

The reflection he appraised in the mirror was once again not his own. It had taken another week for this glamour to be crafted and embued into an identical pendant that now hung loosely around his small neck. In combination with the glasses Nicholas had suggested, he looked almost normal. The intent was to nuetralize the effect of his true eyes if he were to accidentally peel back his second lids and make eye contact with a fellow student. When viewed through the irremovable lenses his eyes appeared normal - green - but behind the enchanted eyewear they were colorless.

These advancements had come at a cost. The glasses made him dizzy. The glamour made him sick. He could practically taste the magic coming off the necklace. Staring at the face that was not his own gave him a skin-crawling sensation of utter wrongness. Professor Snape had assured him no one else would notice, but Harry wasn't sure he bought it. His friends would realize.

Not only were the effects nauseating, the time they had taken to perfect had burned through the first week of his third year at Hogwarts. It was on the eve of September 7th that Harry came to pass whatever benchmarks in his recovery that Pomfrey required to deem him physically fit to attend classes. Mainly the ability to keep on the stupid pendant for extended periods of time.

Harry removed the glamour-laden jewlery from his neck and face and discarded them atop the piled clothing at his feet. It felt like taking a great weight off his chest to do so. He stretched his arms high above his head and leaned from side to side, working the delicate bones in his spine to clear the cobwebs, so to speak. The action produced a number of inhuman cracks and pops from his various joints as they released built-up pressure from within.

Without the necklace or the glasses, Harry was warned he may have difficulties looking in the mirror. Headmaster Dumbledore had advised against it. Now, seeing the pallid skin stretched thinly across his sinew, Harry did not balk from his own body. He inspected a new crop of scales that emerged from his waist line where the waist band of his pants had rubbed away at the delicate flakes of his human skin. He had developed these soft translucent scales in most places on his body that endured near-constant friction. He was grateful there were none on his face, yet.

He looked cautiously over both his shoulders to ensure the room was empty aside from him. This was Professor Snape's idea. It would do no good to have the glasses if he petrified someone, thinking he was alone. It was also his Professor's advice that had him blinking into the reflective surface, trying to master peeling back those second, membranous lids covering his eyes. It took concentration to achieve, but once revealed, his natural Avada Kedavra green eyes were unveiled below. Snape was worried the lids would atrophy if not exercised. Harry was prescribed three minutes of trying to expose his true sight, when most certain he was alone, once a day at bathing time.

The rest of him was the familiar too-thin, gangly body he had come to know growing up. His feet were crooked from wearing Dudley's oversized shoes. His belly was a hollow beneath the protrusion of his ribs. More importantly, his hands were returned to their true lithe form. He hated the fat fingers he saw looking down at his hands while wearing the glamour. It was a shame about his hair, but Harry didn't miss the bangs falling in his eyes all the time. What was left of it was neatly trimmed at the instruction of Madame Pomfrey's wand.

Of all of those aware of his condition, Harry had taken these shocking changes in his appearance the easiest. He had never had the opportunity to be vain before. Living in oversized hand-me-downs and hiding one's face for fear of being recognized as The-Boy-Who-Lived likely owed to the fact.

Despite how he hated the glamour and the glasses, Harry was overjoyed to put them back on when he was done bathing. Tonight, Professor Snape promised, he would be allowed to leave the Infirmary and join the other students for dinner. Tomorrow he would take his first classes as a third year student. He was eager to get back into the mundane routine, see his friends, and put to good use the time spent reading and rereading his textbooks over the summer. Thoughts of his aunt and his condition seemed to fade to an unreachable recess in his mind along with the rest of his worries.

"Look," Hermione Granger hissed. She slapped the arm of Ronald Weasley who sat beside her at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. When the ginger boy looked up at her, offended at the perceived slight, she pointed to the entry way. "It's Harry!"

The news quickly travelled the length of the table with the eyes of all the students turning towards the doors. It was indeed Harry Potter who mutely marched under the collective stare of the studentbody to join his housemates. Hermione made quick work of stepping over the bench and away from the table, rushing to meet him half way. She threw her arms around his neck with a relieved laugh.

"We thought you were dead!" she whispered, giving him a slap of his own. "You didn't answer my letters. I even asked my mum to drive me to Little Whinging, but I didn't know the street or the number. No one would tell us a thing. I threatened McGonagall!"

Harry struggled from her grip, patting the girl on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Noticing the eyes following them, he made haste to rejoin the Gryffindors in hopes their bodies might shield him from the rest of the Great Hall's inhabitants.

"I'm sorry," he offered meekly. "I didn't get any letters."

"Where were you? Was it your relatives?"

"Harry!" Ron shouted. "We've missed you, mate. This one has been going absolutely barmy."

"I was concerned," Hermione sniffed. "Rightfully so. Last we heard they had you hidden away in the Hospital Wing. That was months ago!"

As Harry took a seat between the two, several of his yearmates offered greetings of their own. On the table in front of him an empty porcelain plate appeared with a popping sound as the house elves made to accommodate him. Harry had little intention of eating dinner with the others, but a lamb shank magically summoned itself to his plate and he couldn't very well ignore it.

"I spent most of the summer here, actually," Harry supplied, taking the shank by the bone and hoisting it to his mouth. He thought better of the action and set it back down a moment later, reaching for the cutlery that matched his place setting. "I wasn't well enough to go home."

"I knew it," Hermione said, seemingly pleased with her own deduction skills. "You're alright now, though?" she added, seemingly remembering herself.

Harry nodded as he forked a bit of lamb into his mouth. Ron clapped him on the back as if to say, 'Well done, mate,' and that was that. Conversation turned to the Weasley family's trip to Egypt over the summer and Hermione's triple electives, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and a weird attack on the Hogwarts Express from a creature Ron called a 'Demeanor.'

"Dementor, Ron," Hermione chided. "They're searching the forest for Sirius Black. The Headmaster announced it at the Sorting Feast."

"Who's that, then?" Harry asked, doing his best to keep up.

Ron scrunched his nose as dinner promptly turned to dessert. A bowl of sherbet appeared closest to him and he pushed it away in favor of some chocolate biscuits. "My da' was talking about it all summer. First wizard to break out of Azkaban."

"Someone broke out of the Wizarding prison," Hermione explained in simpler terms. "The Dementors are here to protect the school."

"Terrifying," Neville Longbottom piped up. "Welcome back, Harry."

"Thanks, Nev. How are you feeling?"

Neville's face turned pink. "You heard?"

Harry felt sorry for mentioning it. "I was in the infirmary just before they brought you in. Professor - The Professors mentioned it."

"I can't believe you got to stay here all summer," Hermione grumbled. "Tell me you read all your schoolbooks for this year."

"Is that all you ever think about?" Ron griped. "Honestly. Oi, did you see Malfoy in there? Git got scratched by one of Hagrid's pets in Care of Magical Creatures."

Harry settled into the background of the conversation after that, for which he was grateful. From the far end of the table he spotted Ginny Weasley staring and offered a wave. She returned it and promptly looked back at her untouched dessert. Before dessert was over he also received greetings from Fred and George, who offered to carry him to Gryffindor Tower like a wounded maiden.

"Actually," Harry said meekly. "I'm staying in a private room."

"You're not coming back to the dorm?" Ron asked. "Why not?"

"Well, obviously he's still recovering," Hermione interjected. "You're staying in the infirmary?"

Harry shook his head. "Just a room."

"I'd kill to have my own room," Hermione said. "Lavender Brown is insufferable."

"So is Ron's snoring," Harry laughed.

The following morning Professor Snape handed him his class schedule - heavily modified to accommodate his ongoing recovery.

"Sir," Harry said as he bit into his third boiled egg of the morning. Thinking better of it, he set the rest of it down and cleaned his mouth with a napkin. "Do you think I'll be allowed to join Care of Magical Creatures?"

Professor Snape looked up over his copy of the Daily Prophet and quirked a brow. "When you are well enough to attend all of your regular classes you can discuss electives with your Head of House," he replied.

Harry frowned at the thought. He hadn't had any interactions with Professor McGonagall, but part of him was glad that Transfiguration was one of the classes cut from his schedule for the week. Professor Snape quickly deciphered his expression and set down the paper.

"We can discuss it when the time comes," he amended. "Don't hold her words against her. She failed to understand the situation."

"She knows now though?"

"I believe she has been made aware."

"Hmm," Harry replied, abandoning the remains of the egg. He grabbed the enchanted necklace from beside his plate and lowered it over his head. "Thank you, sir. I'll come straight back after Charms."

In the boy's absence, Severus abandoned his tea and the paper to the table for the elves to clear. The pair had settled into a morning routine in the last week that was agreeable to both parties wherein he could ensure Potter took his potions on time. It gave the boy time to wake up without having to don his glamours and Severus the excuse needed to avoid looking his colleagues in the eye before his morning tea.

He found conversing with Potter to be far preferable to the alternative. The boy was certainly quieter than his peers and even most of the Hogwarts staff. When he did speak it wasn't without reason, which is something Snape put great value into. Potter's comfort in his presence had yet to fully occur to Severus, though more through willful ignorance than anything else. He warranted their relationship and his investment in the boy's recovery by owing it to the fact that he had given up his summer to ensure Harry lived. Severus Snape did not like to fail in any endeavor.

It was not often, however, that he - Greasy-Git of the Dungeons - was thanked for anything. Certainly never as earnestly as the gratitude Potter showed him, and quite regularly at that. It was... humbling.