Title: Lusus Naturae

Chapter: Chapter Ten

Rating: M for Mostly Mature Men

Warnings: Abuse, Death, and Boggarts.

A/N: Things are happening. Great, terrible things.

Severus slowed his pace as he reached the door to Potter's bed chamber. He had hastened from the Headmaster's Office to his own rooms after being dismissed - for the most part - by Dumbledore to attend to Harry. His mind was whirling with the implications of Flitwick's account and he was cursing himself for not considering the ramifications of the boy's condition on his magic.

He stopped himself before he barged into the room, considering it might be disrespectful. Severus rapped his knuckles on the door thrice, softly so as not to disturb Potter were he to be found asleep.

"Just a minute!" a voice called from inside. After a beat Potter called, "Okay."

He was sat up in bed adjusting the enchanted spectacles on his face. Severus greeted the boy, disregarding the lack of the glamour over his body without a second thought.

"Is something wrong?" Potter asked.

Severus eyed him sternly. "Professor Flitwick gave me an account of your performance in his Charms class. You failed to mention it in your report."

When they had met midday in their chambers for lunch, Potter had recounted his class and the journey to and from with little fanfare. Severus had noted the boy to be slightly quieter than usual, given his prior excitement about rejoining his classmates, but nothing else was out of the ordinary. Looking back, he wished he had pressed for more details.

Potter shrugged a shoulder, looking away from him. "It didn't seem important."

"Hmm," Severus hummed, disbelievingly. "It's an impressive feat of magic given how depleted your core was at the start of summer. I'd like to run a diagnostic spell to ensure you didn't over exert yourself."

"I didn't feel any different," Potter protested. "I just did what Professor Flitwick said."

Regardless, the boy didn't put up a fight as Severus rounded on him with his wand out. After a muttered incantation, the tip of Severus' wand glowed green. He passed it over the boy's head, then chest, then abdomen, frowning as the light shifted from green to red, then blue, and back to red.

"Is that bad?" Potter asked.

"No," Severus blurted, but thinking better of it ammended his answer. "It's unusual. Not bad, persay."

"What does it mean?"

Severus swished his wand to the left and the light sputtered out. He took a moment to consider how to explain the results and quickly thought up a solution.

"Look here," he ordered, gesturing to himself.

He cast the spell again, mirroring the process on himself. As he brought his wand over the top of his head it turned blue. He continued over the length of his chest and abdomen. The color did not change.

"The color changes depending on the concentration of magic. It is not uncommon for young witches and wizards to have an imbalance. It fluctuates as the body matures before settling," Severus explained, ending the spell. "Green is the lowest, baseline level. For, say, a muggle, the light would blink out. Blue is average for an adult witch or wizard."

Potter's nose scrunched up as he considered the Professor's words. "What about the red?"

"It indicates higher than average power levels. It's a rudimentary spell, however. Madame Pomfrey could perform a more in depth diagnosis. I'll accompany you to the infirmary tomorrow to get her opinion on the matter."

"You think something is wrong with me?" Potter asked, then paused. He looked down at his hands and let out a mirthless laugh. "Something else, I mean."

Severus was once again forced to carefully consider his words. Tact was not a talent he ever claimed to have mastered and he found himself struggling to employ what little skill he had more often than not these days.

"It is not an avenue we explored in your recovery. Any knowledge about your condition could help us find a cure."

Potter nodded and sighed. "Thank you, sir."

"We'll discuss this further at breakfast," Severus offered in parting as he saw himself out.

After Professor Snape saw himself out, Harry discarded his glasses to the bedside table and turned over to resume the difficult task of falling asleep. His mind had not stopped churning since he ran into who he believed to be Professor Lupin in the hallways. Something about the encounter disturbed him.

Harry had no idea how the man knew about his glamour. Even Flitwick hadn't seemed to notice. More to the point, Harry had noticed something about Lupin that he couldn't begin to comprehend.

Professor Lupin was a werewolf.

How Harry knew this - well, he didn't know. The Professor had appeared clearly disturbed by something - by Harry, if his assumptions were correct. He got the gist that the wizard knew something was off about him, beyond the glamour.

Then Harry had scented him. The thought made his stomach clench. It was disgusting. He had smelled Professor Lupin and a single word immediately came to mind: Werewolf. It was like smelling your favorite food from a room away and knowing exactly what was for dinner. Harry didn't even know if werewolves existed before today, but now he was absolutely convinced.

It was par for the course. Harry felt like he had walked through the day as a passenger in his own body. Whatever had happened in Charms had not been his own doing. There was no way he cast such a powerful non-verbal spell on his own. Everything about it felt wrong and strangely distant. He didn't have the means to decipher what any of it meant. Maybe Madame Pomfrey would have a theory tomorrow.

Harry fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were plagued by a serpentine voice whispering to him from the dark.

Professor Snape and Harry were attended to in the Hospital Wing early the following morning by a haggered looking Madame Pomfrey. She greeted them with a rant about Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, which had led to no less than twelve allergic reactions and three lacerations in the last two days. Snape had to remind her he would be late to his morning classes if she did not hurry along for the Medi-witch to snap out of it.

Her inspection of Harry's magic did not show anything out of the ordinary. She suggested the results may be a result of the heavy magic inlaid into his spectacles and possibly lingering effects of the glamour. In regards to his course work, Harry was advised to practice spells he knew well and only in the supervision of Professor Snape or alone with one of his other Professors in order to retrain his core. She similarly admonished him for not coming to her directly when the extraordinary event took place and ordered him to do so in the future.

Harry didn't mention anything about his reaction to Professor Lupin or his nightmares for fear of being remanded to bed rest for the day. As Professor Snape escorted him to his next class, he regretted the decision immediately upon noticing his class for the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Sir," he asked Professor Snape as they made their way down an empty corridor. "What do you think of Professor Lupin?"

Snape seemed to hesitate before he answered. "The Headmaster seems to favor him," was all he said.

"He also favored Quirrel," Harry said quietly. "Lockhart too."

"Quite," Snape said with a sneer. "Better to be on your guard. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, leave and come find me. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"The incantation is 'Riddikulus'," Professor Lupin said clearly. "Repeat it with me. Riddikulus. Good. Who would like to go first?"

Lupin pulled back the lid of the trunk and from within its depths emerged a formless, shifting shade. The students backed away, pushing one another towards the creature as a sacrifice to spare themselves. Poor Neville Longbottom got shoved to the front.

Holding his wand aloft in a shaking hand, Neville stared down the shadow with a whimper than turned into a soft cry as the creature shifted. In a flurry of darkness that turned to robes, the beast took form. Staring out at them from the trunk was a looming mimicry of Professor Snape.

"Ri-" Neville tried, stuttering.

From somewhere at the back of the class Draco Malfoy gave a loud guffaw.

"Riddikulus, Neville," Professor Lupin called over the sounds of the class. "Riddikulus."

Neville seemed to steel himself. "Ri-Riddikulus."

With a shudder, the visage of Professor Snape morphed - or rather it's clothing did. The imposing figure now wore a set of pink robes with an ugly avian-like hat and carried a woman's handbag. The class burst into laughter and the creature recoiled. Neville turned away, looking pleased, to the admiration of the other Gryffindors.

"Excellent," Professor Lupin called. "Who is next?"

Harry had stayed towards the front of the class to avoid the crush of students behind him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly he was thrust to the spot Neville had just vacated. Wand in hand, Harry caught the eyes of the imitation-Snape and shuddered.

He could smell the Boggart. Again, his mind supplied a correlation between scent and beast that he had no recollection of. It nearly distracted him from the creature as it began to morph. From beyond the trunk, he could see Professor Lupin watching him with an intense curiosity and part of him wanted to flee, but another part strangely demanded he stand his ground.

The Boggart changed.

Students behind him screamed.

Harry stared at his own reflection in the image the Boggart presented and laughed. His biggest fear was himself. It took him a moment to realize the person standing before him was taller. After another he noticed the class began to empty out behind him. He turned his head to watch them go. When he looked back the Boggart was closer, having stepped beyond the trunk to set its scaled feet on the floor. Harry looked into its blood red eyes, steadied his wand, and enunciated the incantation.

"Riddikulus," he cast.

The Boggart recoiled again, falling backwards into the trunk, but it did not change. Professor Lupin snapped the lid closed over it as it went.

"Are you alright?" Lupin rasped, after a moment of silence passed for him to catch his breath.

Harry nodded. "I'm fine."

"Harry, I'm-"

"You fool!"

Harry turned to find Professor Snape baring down on them from the doorway. Distantly he noted that had the Boggart taken on his Professor's current expression, Neville might have fainted dead away.

"A Boggart?" Snape demanded, quickly putting himself between Harry and Professor Lupin. "What were you thinking?"

Professor Lupin righted himself and smoothed the fine hair over his head. "It is on the cirriculum, Severus."

"You should have intervened," Snape spat.

"I apol-"

"Come, Mr. Potter."

Snape turned on the spot - his cloak whipping through the air for effect. The hand he laid on Harry's shoulder was far softer than he expected. Harry let Professor Snape lead him from the room, all the while consumed by the image of those blood-red eyes.