Yo everybody! Welcome to one of my stories, No Longer Human

This story will probably cover the summer before third year at the very least, if not third year too at the most. I don't know at this point, depends on how long the "summer arc" is if I feel it can be sort of a prequel to a HP third year story or not.

For those of you who are readers of my other story, A Phantom Of A Titan, I'm not abandoning it. My focus is divided between these two stories.

By the power vested in me I hereby declare this disclaimer to be valid for the entire length of this story and any sequels: I don't own Harry Potter!

Well, without further adieu…

Chapter 1: Dying… Or not?

Harry Potter was dying. It was rather frank statement, yet no less truthful because of it. The world was fading before his very eyes. Colors were fading and lines were disappearing. Harry Potter was dying, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do to stop it.

He remembered rather blearily as he forced his mind to work past the sensation of hot lead racing through his veins that no human had ever survived basilisk venom, in any amount. The only variation in the amount of time that it took to kill someone was the amount of venom and health of the person. The less venom, the healthier they were, the longer they survived. The longest anyone had ever been said to survive it was three agonizing days. And that was when they only got a drop, with the person being in peak physical condition. Basilisk venom was easily the nastiest naturally occurring poison out there. Hell, many argued that it was the nastiest poison, period. It was corrosive, only able to be contained safely inside the basilisk itself within poison sacs, items very powerfully enchanted to mimic the poison sacs, and objects of extreme density, such as goblin made objects. Remembering this, it was nothing short of amazing that he was still alive, let alone that he still had the presence of mind to destroy the diary in the face of such pain, given the fact that he got injected with venom in both his arms. He hadn't wanted to take a chance that one arm didn't have the strength to drive the sword deep enough into the basilisk. So, when he drove the Sword of Gryffindor into the roof of the mouth of the basilisk, he had used both of his hands. And he had paid for it by having several fangs pierce his arms, one even having broken off in it. Said fang was then put to good use by stabbing the diary.

He turned his head painfully to left. There laid the body of the basilisk. It was alarming close to him. He could see where its eyes used to be, as well as where one of its fangs had broken off. He turned his head slowly to the right. Immediately in that direction he saw the diary, stained with ink-like blood with a hole in it. Next to it laid the fang. A little ways away from that he could just make out his holly wand from where Riddle had dropped it as he died. Beyond that, he saw the still form of Ginny Weasley. She didn't move at all, save for the steady rising and falling of her chest. That, combined with the color returning to her cheeks, assured him that she was still alive. That thought made him smile slightly. 'At least I managed to save her' He thought, slightly bitter about the whole thing. He knew he was dead. His body just didn't know it yet.

Suffice to say that thought brought on more than a little bitterness. He was brought out his bitter thoughts by a shrill cry and he saw something red wobbling toward him. It was Fawkes. After having gouged the eyes out of the basilisk, Riddle had retaliated with some kind of cutting curse, nearly taking the phoenix's head off in the process. It left a deep gouge across Fawkes's chest that trailed off onto her left wing, hindering her ability to fly and splattering the ground with blood with each odd little hop she was reduced to in order to travel.

She hoped over to him awkwardly, her left wing outstretched. Tears dropped from Fawkes eyes and a sizzling sound was heard as they impacted against the wounds on his left arm. Fawkes then repeated the process with his right arm. Harry watched with barely restrained amazement as his wounds healed right before his eyes. It felt weird, like a tingling sensation, as the wounds closed up.

At the same time, a warm feeling began to spread from his arms. It felt good, comforting even. Like what Harry imagined it would feel like being held in his mother's arms.

It didn't last.

All at once, the burning sensation from before returned and it was much, much worse than before. If it first felt like someone was boiling him alive from the inside out, then now it felt like they had dropped him in a vat of boiling oil on top of that. He arched his back, a scream tearing free from his lips. 'Phoenix tears have healing powers' He though, biting back a curse as it suddenly intensified. 'So why did Fawkes's tears healing my wounds just seem to make things worse?'

Little did he know, the reason why things had gotten worse had more to with the fact that basilisk venom and phoenix tears were not the only things in his blood. When he had stabbed the basilisk and gotten his arms stabbed by its fangs, there was a split second while the great snake died that it had managed to hold itself in the air. During that second, copious amounts of blood had sprayed from the wound in the basilisk's mouth directly in his open wounds, resulting in trace amounts of basilisk venom and basilisk blood flowing through his veins. It was the basilisk's blood that ended up acting as a weak buffer of sorts, allowing him to survive a whole lot longer than he should've been able to with the amount of venom that was in him. Of course, he still would've died a slow and painful death regardless of the blood.

Then things got complicated even more unknowingly by the phoenix, Fawkes. When he had jumped onto Harry's chest in order to heal his arms, the blood flowing freely from the cut spanning from his chest to his left wing leaked into his wounds in a similar manor to the basilisk blood just a few moments ago, putting trace amounts of phoenix blood in his veins alongside basilisk venom and basilisk blood. Even mixing, there was really not really a problem there. The real problem came when Fawkes healed his wounds, adding phoenix tears to the cocktail of magical substances that had been mixed with his blood.

It was a real problem because the healing power of phoenix tears conflicted directly with the corrosive properties of basilisk venom. And the different blood types definitely just complicated the matter.

Harry, arched his back in pain, and another scream tore out of his chest as the ultimate form of death in the form of basilisk venom and the ultimate form of life in the form of phoenix tears fought it out in his body. The pain came in waves, synchronized with his heartbeat. Each time it came it was bad enough for his muscles to spasm, his breath to hitch. He felt more pain in his mouth and tasted blood, knowing that he had bit his tongue.

Fawkes's looked down at the boy in more than a little concern. Having been charged by Dumbledore to watch over the boy ever since the esteemed Headmaster had learned of the Chamber of Secrets and the threat of the basilisk within the walls of Hogwarts, she had grown slightly fond of the boy at watching him. Dumbledore had been more than a little concerned about the basilisk and had charged the phoenix with two things: find the basilisk and protect Harry Potter. She had succeeded in the first one and had even helped bring down the serpent, but it looked like she was about to fail in the second one. Fawkes had hoped that her tears might have been enough to save the boy. Indeed, at first it seemed that it would be enough. But then he got even worse than before. He was screaming in obvious pain, convulsing violently. Blood was leaking out through the corners of his mouth and he was losing color rapidly. And it was easy to see that he wasn't breathing right.

Due to being a phoenix, Fawkes knew instinctively that her tears could heal just about anything. Due to the amount of time spent around Dumbledore as well as her ability to understand both the written and spoken versions of most languages, she had come by the knowledge of just how deadly basilisk venom was. The only thing that had not been attempted to be used as anti-venom or cure for those who got the venom in them was phoenix tears. So she knew that there was a good chance that her tears could heal him where nothing else could. But she also knew that there was a chance that they could not.

Fawkes lowered her neck in shame. Her tears could not heal him of the venom. She had failed in her task to keep the boy safe. She watched as another scream tore out of his throat. As it died out, an idea came to her. An idea to, at the very least, ease his passing. Basilisk venom was arguably one of the most horrible and painful ways to die. Fawkes couldn't save him, nor could she take away all of his pain, but perhaps she might calm him by singing. It wouldn't save him, but it could ease the pain. Opening her mouth, she let out a low trill that built into a melody, then into a bird's song. A phoenix's song, to calm the hearts and ease passing.

Harry was dying. It seemed that phoenix tears reacted badly with basilisk venom. Sounds and images began flashing before his very eyes. Despite the pain and his own imminent death, he chuckled. 'I guess it's like they always say.' He thought, slightly amused despite the situation. 'Your life really does flash before your eyes before you die.'

There it all was. The vague, dreamlike earliest memories of being held by a woman with familiar piercing green eyes and red hair, and a man with messy black hair. Then that blank spot in his memories, where all he knew was a flash of green light. Then life in the cupboard. The only foreseeable change was when the crib was exchanged for mattress. Being made an outcast at school by his piggish cousin Dudley. Learning to purposely get bad marks so as to not get yelled at. Learning to cook, clean, and otherwise care for the Dursley family as an unpaid servant. A monotonous, boring life as it was, but safe. At least, as long as his cousin and his friends were otherwise occupied and didn't have time for "Harry Hunting". At least as long as he behaved and didn't get sent to the cupboard without for the day with little if any food. At least as long as he didn't show any example of "freakishness" and have his beloved Uncle try and "beat the freak out of him".

Then everything changed when his Hogwarts Acceptance letter arrived. His Uncle's attempts to keep it from him, by first moving him to the smallest bedroom in the house, then physically leaving the house and moving to a hut. It failed with the visit of the kindhearted giant of a man, Hagrid, who personally gave him his letter and later took him to Diagon Alley to get what he needed to attend Hogwarts, with the addition of his first real birthday present in the form of his owl named Hedwig, and he returned to #4 Privet Drive, amazingly allowed to keep his new admittedly small bedroom, with the addition of a cat flap to push meals through and locks to keep him in if they so wished. He snorted at that memory. 'I could always leave through the window if I really needed to. Or at least until he put bars over it to keep me in. Guess I still could, considering the Weasley's tore them off with their car when I left.'

After that came his trip to the Hogwart's Express through Platform 9 and ¾, befriending Ron on the train, fighting the troll and befriending Hermione, getting on the Quidditch team, getting his invisibility cloak for Christmas, discovering the Mirror of Erised, the whole Sorcerer's stone debacle. Then leaving Hogwarts to go back to #4.

What he collectively called "Dobby Incidents" which caused his friends to have to rescue him and had him at the Burrow for part of the summer, him to have to go back to school via flying car, and later setting a bludger on him. Meeting the famous Lockhart. Later finding out that famous Lockhart is a fraud. Discovering his ability of Parseltongue. The whole "Heir of Slytherin" thing. Using the illegal polyjuice potion. Hagrid going to Azkaban. People getting petrified. Hermione getting petrified and the series of events that lead him to here, killing a basilisk, destroying a cursed diary, and saving the little sister of his best mate.

'All in all, not bad.' He thought, half amused and half embittered. Ollivander had said that he expected "great things" from him when he got his wand. He would've snorted, if he was capable of doing little more than convulsing, screaming with the occasional curse thrown in, and breathing irregularly. 'How's probably being the youngest slayer of a basilisk? Granted I had extensive help from Fawkes, but still. Fawkes might have taken care of its eyes, but I was still the one to drive Gryffindor's sword into the bloody monster. Destroying one of Riddle's old cursed school things isn't half bad either.' If he was capable of it, he would've sighed. 'Ah well, I've pretty much living on borrowed time thanks to Mum's sacrifice. Guess it's time to pay it all back.'

There was only one hope he had for salvation, that being phoenix tears and that had failed him. In his own mind he was already dead. All he was waiting for now was seeing if there really was a "light" that he would start going toward and after that he would get to see his parents again.

He was doing his best to control his convulsions and screams; amazed that Ginny hadn't woken up by now with all the screaming, and attempting to die with some modem of dignity when he heard a noise. Through tear filled blurry eyes, having become unable to feel most anything save pain, he only just made out the reddish orange form of Fawkes standing on his chest, amazingly seemingly unaffected by convulsions that should've thrown her off, as the bird began to sing.

It was absolutely beautiful.

There were no words that would adequately describe how the song sounded. If he had been watching Ginny, he would've seen her relax and smile in her sleep.

He didn't know how long he listened to it. He didn't think it mattered anymore.

But it did. As long as he lived, he would never even come close to any word in any language that he learned that would adequately describe what it truly sounded like. The one that came the closest in the English language would be beautiful. And it was so beautiful that he found himself wanting to live.

As he focused on that want, no need, to live, images began to flash before his eyes again. It was his life again, but edited to only the good parts.

He saw himself, happy as can be as he left the Dursley's. He saw him, discovering the trust vault left to him by his parent's with Hagrid. Getting his wand. Getting his beloved owl Hedwig. Him going through Platform 9 and ¾, boarding the Hogwarts Express. Seeing Hogwarts for the first time. Getting sorted in Gryffindor house, same as his parents. Catching his first Snitch. Seeing his parents, even if it was in a mirror. Winning the Quidditch house cup. Winning the house cup. Being freed from the Dursley's by the Weasley's and their flying car. Going to Hogwarts in the very same car. Laughing with his friends in the corridor at some joke Harry didn't even remember anymore.

As he listened to Fawkes song and viewed the happy memories associated, his will to live was solidified, and he felt a reaction within himself. It was both weirdly foreign, and strangely familiar. If he had better memory, he would have recognized it as being a lot like the warm feeling he experienced when he first held his wand.

Never the less, as the feeling intensified, the pain began to lessen. It started in the center of his chest, near where he imagined his heart to be. As he was contemplating this feeling, it suddenly intensified, painfully so. It spread from his chest like fire. Any onlookers would be treated to the sight of his body starting to glow a deep, fiery orange.

Fawkes looked on, perplexed as the boy under him began glow and heat up. Not enough to set anything on fire, mind you, but a definite contrast from the unusually cold he had been before. Now it felt like he had raging fever. Fawkes had no idea why this was happening. All she knew was that there was a good chance that Harry would live through this after all.

She tightened her talons on her robes, flames beginning to form on her as she readied herself to apparate herself and Harry, before stopping suddenly as a new thought came to her. 'I don't know what's happening to him, but I really don't want to know how apparition might affect it or it apparition.'

Hopping over to the redheaded girl whose name she hadn't bothered to learn, she grasped her robes and a single flash of fire later deposited the girl into a bed in the Hospital Wing. 'Amazing that she can sleep through all that.'

Returning, she saw that Harry had at last lost consciousness, which was a promising sign. It meant that it was likely that most of his pain was gone, thus allowing him to sleep. He was still glowing dangerously though, so she dared not approach him.

Leaving in another flash of fire, she apparated to where Professor Lockhart and the redhead she knew was named Ron were trapped. They were both startled at her appearance. She ignored their surprise and apparated them one after the other into hospital beds.

They looked around, confused for a second, before, upon seeing the girl redhead whose name still escaped her, Ron cried out "Ginny!" Scrambling out of his bed at an impressive speed, he shot at the redhead witch as fast as he could; picking her up with a hug, which finally had the effect of awakening her.

'Huh. So that's her name.' She thought ideally as she went back to the Chamber. Still seeing a glowing Harry, she instead hopped over to where the diary and sword laid. 'I have a feeling that Dumbledore is going to want these.' Grasping the book by its spine and sword by its handle, she apparated and plopped them both on the Headmaster's desk, just as the twinkly eyed wizard himself came through the floo. Another apparition later and the Sorting Hat was next to them.

Not waiting for any sort of explanation and knowing that he would be able to tell what the book was, or used to be, she apparated back to the Chamber. She could see that the glow, while still there seemed to be fading. 'Whatever the bloody hell is happening seems to be about over.'

Not about to wait, she hopped over to where the boy's glasses had been tossed by his convulsions and grabbed them in her talons. Then over to where the boy's wand was, and, after a moment's thought, the fang that he had used to destroy the diary.

Flashing back to Hospital Wing, she deposited her items onto a bedside table next to the bed she already planned on sending to Harry.

Upon her return to the Chamber of Secrets, she saw that the glow had left, leaving in its place a very different Harry Potter. She could still feel a lingering magic about the boy, but it was impossible to tell whether that meant that whatever happened was still happening on some level, or if it was just lingering magical residue. Residue that could take days to fade, and even then there was a chance that it would always be there on some level.

Taking all that into consideration, she took a calculated risk and grasped the front of Harry's robes. She apparated back to the Hospital, depositing Harry into a bed next to a petrified witch with bushy hair and let out a loud trill in order to get Madam Pomfrey's attention as well as that of the newly arrived Dumbledore. The family of redheads that congregated around that Ginny girl's bed didn't seem to notice as the healer left them, having diagnosed Ginny with nothing but above average magical exhaustion.

Each rushed over, Poppy casting several diagnostic spells with a wave of her wand. "W-what?" She stuttered, puzzled when she got the results.

"What is it Poppy?" Said a very worried Headmaster Dumbledore. "He's alive, right?" He eyed Harry's still rising and falling chest, then did a double take when he saw the changes done to the Boy-Who-Lived. 'Just what happened down there in the Chamber?' He looked at his familiar as she disappeared in a flash of fire, no doubt going to start her cycle of rebirth early in his office to deal with the slash across her front. He sighed. 'Guess I'll get the memory of what happened in the Chamber later.'

Poppy nodded. "He's alive, no doubt. And other than suffering from the symptoms of blood loss as well as the effects of malnutrition that I point out to you again..." Dumbledore sighed at the accusatory note at the word "again". What the Dursley's did to Harry was tragic beyond belief, but the blood wards meant that he still needed to stay there with them and if he came back from Hogwarts cured of malnutrition, he was afraid that they would react violently.

He was no fool. He knew the reason why Harry was a relatively shy, quiet, and well mannered boy. Why he attempted to contain his anger and his emotions until it burst out rather violently. Why he dressed like a pauper outside of his school robes in clothes that were a couple sizes too big and had holes and stains in some cases. Why he froze up like he didn't know what to do whenever somebody hugged him. If blood wards weren't the ultimate protection, he would've moved Harry to somewhere else.

Even now he considered moving Harry to Hogwarts full time or forcing the Dursley's to relinquish their muggle guardianship over him so that he might be adopted by another family. The Weasley's would certainly welcome him into their home and into their hearts, although Albus didn't want to push their already stretched budget and he didn't want to risk them trying to get their hands on the rather incredibly large fortune left to him by his parents. He knew they were good people but temptation affected even the best.

There were others that he would trust Harry with too, but there was no guarantee that they would get guardianship. The Ministry was corrupt and guardianship selection would most likely turn into a competition of who could offer more money in a bribe and who could bribe the most officials. And he knew far too well that the families that would be in the running for that weren't families for Harry to go to. He was almost positive that Harry would basically get bought by a Death Eater family and never seen again if that happened.

No, there really was no place for Harry to stay other than the Dursley's for now. Not even Hogwarts. He knew Harry wouldn't take the Dursley's over the school, but only staff could stay in the school during school break unless extenuating circumstances were in place. Circumstances that he couldn't manufacture. That was a rule not even the Headmaster could break. So he would stay with the Dursley's. It might mean that he would have to start charming his pillow to put him to sleep and making sure to take a dreamless sleep potion every night, but he would live with it. He had too. It was for The Greater Good.

"… He is the picture of perfect health." She finished. "Although I am unsure what brought about such a change, or just what all has been changed. And I'm afraid that I cannot find out, as the diagnostic spells needed to find out require him to be awake, otherwise his magic may fight it and risk killing us both for sure. I'm afraid there is very little I can do for him now until I know just what all has been changed."

"What can you do?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I can let him sleep. Until he wakes and I can use diagnostic charms, among other things, to find out the extent of the changes. Then I have an idea of what I can do with him safely. Anything until then runs the risk of killing him and possibly me too."

Dumbledore sighed. "Draw the screens and cast privacy spells and wards to keep others away, save for you and me. For now, it seems that only you, me, and Fawkes know what has happened to Harry and I would like for it to remain that way for now." He drew his wand from his robes, eliciting a warning look from Poppy. He sighed. "I trust it is safe for me to cast a simple charm to alert me when he wakes?" She nodded, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. 'I know a healer is supposed to be protective of her patients.' He thought as he went through the wand motions and made sure to say the incantation out loud and clearly so she knew he wasn't doing anything else. 'But sometimes she takes it to extreme levels.'

"Give Ronald Weasley a precursory examination. If he is unharmed, as I suspect he is, then send him to me after he's had some time to be with his family. Without his siblings, mind you. Parent's either, if you can manage it." He held up a hand to stop her protests. "Peace. I merely need to find out what happened down there without any interference and Molly Weasley has the unfortunate habit of talking over others. In any even they will find out soon enough."

As Madam Pomfrey set about casting the wards and drawing the white cloth screens, Albus walked over to where Lockhart was bouncing on his bed with childlike glee. "Gilderoy, are you injured?"

He received no answer. Instead, Lockhart was now examining the sheets with extreme curiosity. Albus sighed. 'It seems that his mind has become damaged.' Flicking his wand at the bed, leather restraints emerged from underneath and wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles, drawing them taunt. If Lockhart didn't like this happening, nobody heard it as he was gagged a moment later by a strip of white cloth.

Discreetly pointing his wand at the bound wizard, even though he didn't need to, and silently used Legilimency to scour the man's mind. Or, at least, what was left of it. His earlier prediction proved to be true and then some. Most if not all of his memories were gone, his ability to retain new ones looked to be mostly gone as well. He shook his head sadly. From what he could tell, the damage was the result of a failed memory charm. Dumbledore frowned. Both Harry and Ron were only second year students. The memory charm was only even introduced in 4th year. Learned in 6th for the purpose of being used on muggles in order to maintain the Statue of Secrecy of Secrecy in emergency situations where official Ministry Obliviators weren't available. 'Something isn't right here.' He mused.

"Poppy?" Said healer looked up from where she was examining Ron. "I think it prudent to keep Mr. Lockhart restrained for now." The emphasis Mr. was not lost on anyone. "His mind has become irreparably damaged and I fear he may hurt himself if left alone. When you find the time, please administer Draught of the Living Death to Mr. Lockhart and contact someone at St. Mungo's to pick him up. I suspect Mr. Lockhart is now the newest resident of the Permanent Spell Damage Ward."

Dumbledore went through to Madam Pomfrey's office and used the floo to return to his own office. He eyed at how big Fawkes was when he saw him. Too big if he burst into flames immediately when he left. "I appreciate you seeing how urgent the situation is, but you don't have to accelerate your own growth that much."

A trill that sounded oddly haughty was his only reply. Phoenix's had remarkable control over their own rebirth cycle, though changing it beyond what it normally was did not come without drawbacks. They could initiate a Burning Day of their own accord. They could put one off too. They could also do what Fawkes was doing and accelerate their own growth, thought it would cause them to go through a Burning Day sooner.

"Seeing as you're so stubborn, I suppose I might as well get then pensieve ready." Phoenix's were also one of a very small amount of intelligent magical creatures whose memories could be extracted and viewed just like that of a human's in a pensieve. With phoenixes though their bodies had to be a certain biological age for the memory to be extracted. Ergo, why Fawkes was accelerating her own growth. 'Ah, well. I was considering using the pensieve with Mr. Weasley too anyway.'

Pensieve out and floating in the air next to his desk, he then busied himself with putting the Sorting Hat up, cleaning Gryffindor's sword and putting it in its display case. Then he picked up the diary, a frown marring his features as he examined it with both his eyes and magic.

Only one thought came to mind when he realized what the diary used to contain. 'Tom, you are a fool. Just what have you done to yourself?'

Linebreak

"And then Harry told me to try and clear out the rubble as much as he could while he went on for Ginny. A good bit after that, that bird came and suddenly I was in the Hospital Wing." Ron finished.

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 'So, Lockhart's a fraud and he wiped his mind from using Ronald's broken wand.' "Mr. Weasley, would you be willing to give me a copy of the memory of these events?"

The redhead nodded, prompting the Headmaster to continue. "I need you to focus on the memory of these events. I'll do the rest, ok?"

Albus stood up and walked over to where the youngest Weasley boy was seated, his eyes closed in concentration. He pulled his wand out of his robes and put it to Ron's temple. Drawing it out slowly, there was a silvery strand on the end of it. Moving slowly, he went over to the cabinet and retrieved a very small corked bottle. Uncorking it, he shook the tip of his wand slightly causing it to fall into it. Vowing to view the memory at a later date, he nodded politely at Ron.

"Thank you Mr. Weasley. You can return to your sister's side in the Hospital Wing. I shall send if I require anything more from you."

Ron got up and made for the door, only to stop half way. "Sir?"

Dumbledore looked at the Weasley patiently. "Yes?"

"Where's Harry?"

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't miss the look of fear that flashed across his face and knew that he had to say something soon, or else Ron would assume he was dead. "Harry…didn't come out of the Chamber unscathed. He is alive though, I assure you."

"Will he be alright?"

"I believe so, yes."

Ron noticed that the Headmaster hadn't said that Harry was alright, just that he believed he would be. Still, he remembered how his Father had once complained at how hard it was to get information out of the Headmaster when he didn't want to give it. 'If he believes Harry will be alright, that's good enough for me… for now.'

Ron left the office, no doubt heading back to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore sat there, waiting. 'I do hate moments like these where I have nothing to do.'

Thankfully, he did have something to do in that in that moment a silvery doe chose that moment to phase in through the door. It stopped in front of him, peering at him curiously, before Severus's voice emanated from it. "The Mandrake Restorative Draught is done. I am heading to the Hospital Wing now to administer it to those that were petrified."

Albus nodded. Drawing his wand and focusing on happier times, as well as the need to send a message, he intoned "Expecto Patronum."

Out of his wand flew a silvery bird. Despite the fact that the shape was only definite enough to be sure that it was large bird, Albus liked to think that it was a phoenix patronus. Speaking in a firm, quiet voice, he said "That's good Severus. Let me know how it goes." The silvery phoenix hovered in the air before him as he spoke. When he finished speaking, it nodded. Turning, it flew straight through the wall and out of sight.

Two days later

Harry's head was pounding. Every bone in his body felt like it had been crushed up, his veins filled with hot lead. 'Did Dudley use my head as a drum again?' He thought, giving a soft moan. He opened his eyes, only to immediately shut them, hissing in pain.

"Can you hear me, Mr. Potter?"

He tried his best to nod in reaction to Madam Pomfrey's voice. Apparently he did. "Mr. Potter, do I have your permission to cast spells of a diagnostic nature on your person?"

He nodded again. He could hear the frown in Pomfrey's voice when she spoken next. "I need a spoken yes or no please Mr. Potter."

He frowned. Or at least tried too. Taking a deep breath, he said, in a low scratchy voice "Y-yes."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. This will only take a minute."

He heard a spoken incantation; though he couldn't make it out, and felt a strange feeling wash over him. It felt like a soft wave of energy ran through. As soon as it was over, he heard a loud gasp of surprise. "W-what's wrong?"

"Mr. Potter, can you open your eyes?" She asked after she regained her composure in a shaky voice.

He tried to open his eyes again, only to immediately shut them with another pained hiss. "T-too b-bright"

"I see." He heard yet another incantation that he didn't recognize. "Try now."

He slowly opened his eyes, only to see nothing but darkness. Panic set in. "What the bloody hell?!"

"Calm down and watch your language Mr. Potter. It's a simple spell to block light from your eyes and slowly lift that block as your eyes adjust to the light. Keep your eyes open. Your vision will return."

It was true. Even as she was speaking, his vision was slowly brightening. He heard walking and assumed Pomfrey walked away. After about four or five very quiet minutes he could see clearly enough to make out that he was in a bed in the Hospital Wing. The screens were drawn and there was some sort of heat haze around his bed. Madam Pomfrey returned, looking shaken as she stood next to the bed, staring at him with a disturbed and curious look. With her was Headmaster Dumbledore, calm as ever.

"How do you feel Harry?" Dumbledore asked, taking a place next to the bed in a chair. "I trust your vision has returned adequately?"

"Yes Sir, it has." Harry answered. "My eyes still hurt though, and I'm really sore. It hurts a bit to breath. Kind of like somebody set something heavy on my chest. And my throat is really dry though."

Dumbledore nodded. "Noby?" A small, rather skinny house elf appeared. It was wearing a plain grey shirt and shorts, with no shoes and had big grey eyes. "Yes master?"

"Could you please fetch a glass of ice water and hand it to Harry here?" The elf vanished with a quiet crack and came back, handing a tall glass of ice water to Harry. Harry accepted, drinking the cold water greedily. He wiped the water that ran down the sides of his face. The elf turned to Dumbledore. "Will that be all sirs?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, thank you. You can go."

The elf disappeared and Harry realized something was wrong. 'I'm not wearing my glasses and yet I can see perfectly after my eyes adjusted. What happened to me?'

Experimentally, he turned to the bedside table where he saw his glasses, basilisk fang used to destroy the diary, and his holly wand. He grabbed his glasses and put them on, only to immediately take them off and stare at them as if they were something other than his glasses.

"Is there something wrong with your glasses Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Just the opposite. It doesn't seem that there's anything wrong with my eyes anymore. I don't need glasses anymore. If anything, wearing them actually hurts my vision now."

"I see." Dumbledore appeared thoughtful.

"Sir" Harry said, a new thought coming to her. "How long have I been out?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Madam Pomfrey took his hand and said in a gentle voice "You've been out for two days."

'Two days…' "What happened to me?"

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey exchanged looks. "Poppy, why don't you check on your other patients? I believe I can adequately explain what happened to young Mr. Potter here." Madam Pomfrey gave the Headmaster a sharp look. "What?"

"Albus, I know how you operate." Pomfrey said bluntly. "You and your secrets. I absolutely won't have it in this matter. Harry has a legal right to know everything about what has happened to him and his body down in the Chamber of Secrets. I will not hesitate to divulge and elaborate on anything that you omit and will remain here to ensure that I have the opportunity to do so, as is my right and directive as a Mediwitch."

'He's keeping secrets from me?' Thought Harry, a bit disturbed.

"Poppy, please." Dumbledore pleaded. Of course, as Headmaster, he technically had the authority to order her to leave. But it really wasn't a good idea to piss off the person who just might hold your life in their hands one day. Of course she wouldn't kill him, but it would be all too easy to 'run out' of things like potions for pain, sleep, dreamless sleep, or any other host other things that were needed for comfort, rather necessity.

Pomfrey sniffed. "In any event Miss Weasley is just sleeping, all the people who were petrified were cured just yesterday—"

"They all alright then?"

The healer glared at him for his interruption. He immediately realized his mistake. "Sorry ma'am." He said, looking down.

That seemed to pacify the Mediwitch. In any event, Poppy couldn't keep herself angry at the normally sweet, quiet, and polite boy who was only worried about his friends. Even if he did seem to have a trend of spending too much time in her care, he was still malnourished, so it couldn't be his entire fault for that. Especially with what just happened to the poor boy. "Yes. All the people petrified by the basilisk have been cured successfully, two days ago." She gave him a smile. "In particular, Miss Granger has been insistent on visiting you, Mr. Weasley too. I'm afraid we haven't let them though."

"Why not?"

Dumbledore chose this moment to speak. "Harry, before you woke, we couldn't be sure what happened to you, but we had our suspicions. For that reason, we felt it best if few knew of your condition. Outside of me and Poppy, only Fawkes knows."

Harry nodded in understanding. "And Ginny? How is she?"

Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Other than above average magical exhaustion, Miss Weasley was fine. All she needs is plenty of bed rest and likely some extensive counseling for her ordeal. In any event I feel we are getting off topic. The point is my only patient is Miss Weasley, as Mr. Lockhart was taken to St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward, as a result of the backfired memory charm damaging his mind irreparably, late yesterday, and she is sleeping. A mild sleeping potion ensures that she will remain that way for a while yet."

If Dumbledore was displeased with her ability to reason that there was no reason she couldn't be there to ensure he didn't tell him everything he didn't show it. Instead he merely nodded. "Very well. Harry, what do you know about accidental magic?"

When Harry just shook his head, Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Well, you should know that mainly there are two types of accidental magic. Most people mainly express one type, with little of the other, although powerful enough witches and wizards express both equally. The first type is called outward accidental magic. As you can guess, it affects the world around the wizard. Vanishing things, changing colors of objects. Accidental levitation, transfiguration. These types of wizards and witches are the easiest to spot." Dumbledore smiled. "These types are also the biggest headache for the Ministry and their Obliviators. Can't punish them because it's accidental, but still have to keep the incidents contained because of the Statue of Secrecy. Hard to track too."

"The other type is inward accidental magic. It is rather rare, less obvious and really only a problem if a person with inward accidental magic goes to a muggle hospital or gets looked at by muggle healers. People who express this type of accidental magic heal faster, barely ever get sick, and are usually in better physical condition than others. They almost never suffer from natural blemishes such as pimples or boils. Sometimes these people even regrow their hair and fingernails faster. This is because their magic is focused inward on their body rather than outward on their environment. Unfortunately, as is with people with outward accidental magic, as these types of people grow and mature, gaining control of their magic, this effect lessens greatly, but is never quiet gone. Are you with me so far?"

Harry nodded. Pomfrey wasn't impressed. "Could you please get to the point Albus? Dancing around the point helps no one."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm getting to it Poppy, please be patient. Besides, it doesn't hurt Harry to learn all this, does it?" He smiled at the end, eyes twinkling. "Anyway, as I was saying, when it comes to magic, there is a rare phenomenon. You see, when it comes to magic of any kind, a lot of it is intent and will driven. Some of the greatest inexplicable unexplainable feats of magic have no incantation, no associated wand motion. Some don't even use a wand in the casting and the caster can rarely duplicate the feat, because they were cast in a bout of passionate emotion and want of something to happen. Some spells today were created in an attempt to replicate these effects."

"In relation to inward accidental magic, there is the beyond rare phenomenon. You see, when exceptionally powerful yet young wizard who has yet to grow out of the stage where they are prone to accidental magic, which is usually around 14 and under, is near death, there is a chance that a bout of inward accidental magic will save them. Mind you, it is beyond rare and the requirements for this to happen are unclear at best. Most agree it requires a slow demise not related to anything like blood loss, so as to give the afflicted ample time to save themselves. It also requires a strong will to live and a strong magical core."

"Is that what saved me sir?" Harry asked. "I don't understand. Why would you keep a bout of accidental magic that saved me a secret?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, my boy, I don't think you understand. This type of magic doesn't do anything like vanish the poison or disease from your body to save you. It changes your body to accept whatever is killing you."

Harry felt like somebody had just punched him in the gut, driving all the air out of his lungs, and then dropped him in a tub full of ice water. His blood ran cold, and he knew he would have fallen if he was standing. As it stood now, he was fighting the darkness at the edge of his vision that threatened to spread. "What?" He said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Harry." Blearily, Harry realized that that was the first time that Madam Pomfrey had just called him by his first name for the first time. "It means that you're no longer human. Or at least, not fully human."

Harry stared off into space. For the longest time he said nothing. Struggling to keep the panic out of his voice, he said "Just what am I? What changed?"

Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth, but Dumbledore cut her off. "Small things first, hmm?" He gave Madam Pomfrey a winning smile. She just glared, but allowed him to continue. "I believe the first thing that you will find that changed is your appearance."

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a hand mirror and handed it to Harry, so as to see what had changed.

The first word that came to mind when viewing the unfamiliar face that stared back at him from the mirror was angular. Sharp. Almost regal. The resemblance to his father was still there, but he no longer looked like a clone of the man with his mother's eyes. He now had high cheek bones and deep set eyes. His entire face seemed to have gained a sharp, aristocratic look. To his relief he still had his mother's piercing Killing-Curse-green eyes, although now they seemed to glow with an inner fire. His hair was still just as messy and out of control, but it seemed to have gained some sort of volume. He ran a hand through it and was amazed at how soft it was. 'Almost like feathers.' His skin wasn't as pale as before, but still not tanned enough for anyone to accuse him to having a tan. He lifted up his hair, baring his scar to the world and suppressed a groan. 'Why is it that a scar is the one thing on my face that doesn't really change?' His lightning bolt scar looked just the same as it had before, although now it showed up even better with his slightly darker skin.

Slowly, he got up out of the bed to see what else had changed. The first thing he noticed was that somebody had changed him out of his robes and into a plain white form fitting short sleeved shirt and matching shorts. Looking down at himself, he looked about the same. He was a good bit taller and wasn't as skinny, but other than his new slightly darker skin tone he looked the same.

He looked down at himself again, and then back up at Dumbledore, then Pomfrey, a hopeless look in his eyes as he sat back down on the bed.

Dumbledore exchanged another glance at Poppy, then leaned forward and grasped Harry's hand.

"Harry, listen to be closely." Harry looked up into Dumbledore's eyes. "Who we are isn't determined by what we are. It is determined by what we do. It's our actions that define us, not the other way around. I have lived through two wars. One against Grindelwald and another against Voldemort. In both I have seen acts of unspeakable cruelty. I call Voldemort a monster, not because through the use of dark magic's and rituals he twisted his appearance to that of a monster, but the monstrous actions that he used the powers he gained from them for."

"Harry, you are an unfailingly kind person. I see your mother and father in you so much every day. You are no less your mother and father's son than the day you were born. Always remember that."

Harry nodded and took a moment to steady himself. "What else is different?"

"Poppy, if you please." Albus stated, holding out his hand. Poppy produced a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Albus, who held it out to him politely. "The results of the diagnostic charm Poppy cast on you earlier." He said in a way of explanation. Harry took it and read over it.

Name: Harry James Potter

Parents: James Charlus Potter, Lily Rose Potter nee Evans, (Unclassifiable third of unknown origins)

Race: (Unclassified as of yet)

Sex: Male

Age: 12

Height: 1.5 meters

Weight: 38 kilograms

Status: Wizard, far above average magical core strength for age

Attributes of magical/unusual nature:

Parseltongue (Understanding aspect always active, ability to speak aspect active on command)

As of yet unclassified ability to understand as of yet unknown type of magical creature (Always active)

Raven black down feathers replace hair on head, mimic most qualities of regular human hair save texture and volume. Will possibly require preening.

Stronger than average bones, hollow

Extremely small scales that mimic almost all qualities of regular human skin save that as more resistant to damage of both magic and mundane origins. Will possibly shed for cleaning purposes

Above average magical healing and poison/disease/curse resistance (Always active)

Fangs in sheathe in mouth connected to poison sacks full of venom that mimic weaker qualities of basilisk venom

Tear ducts that produce tears containing healing qualities of quality only beat by the healing quality of phoenix tears

Unknown (Adaptability?) quality of magical origin spread over whole body (Sporadically active, rare response to (Possibly threatening?) presence of other magical beings and creatures)

Ailments: Malnourishment, slight magical exhaustion, full physical body soreness

Harry stared at the page in disbelief. Wearily, he brought a hand up to his mouth. He felt around in his mouth. Everything felt the same as the before, until he found four slits. Two on his top jaw, two on the bottom. They were located between the rest of his teeth and his lips, evenly spaced. He worked his jaw, flexing his muscles, trying to figure out how to. "The fangs. How do I…?"

"Unsheathe them?" Dumbledore gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid we are in uncharted territory here. There is no instruction manual for things like this. However, if I may make a suggestion? He smiled serenely. Harry nodded. "If you were to ask, I believe the answer you seek may be able to be found from a snake."

Harry nodded, resolving to find a snake and ask as Dumbledore continued. "Of course, you may find that they will unsheathe in moments of emotion of anger or fear or in the presence of a threat to your life. I trust you will act responsibly with them when you do learn to unsheathe them at will?"

"What do you mean sir?" Harry asked, even thought he had a good idea why.

"Feigning ignorance does not suit you Harry." Dumbledore answered. "I am not unaware of the animosity between you and Mr. Malfoy. I do hope you understand that we may not be able to save Mr. Malfoy if one day he pushes you too far and you sink your fangs in him or anyone else."

"I won't sir."

"Good, seeing as for all intents and purposes you have a possibly deadly weapon on you now at all times."

Harry smiled. "Sir, with all due respect, couldn't the same be said for every person here who carries a wand with them everywhere?"

Dumbledore nodded. "True, although wands can be taken and your fangs can't. And there is no question whether or not a wand can be deadly."

"Sir, what's this part right here, near the end?" Harry asked. "Right before Ailments?"

Dumbledore peered at the paper curiously. "Well, that's the question, isn't it? All it says is that in the presence of other magical beings or creatures is that there is the possibility of you adapting to it, or something along those lines. I'm unsure just what this means, but to be on the safe side I don't think you should be seeking out encounters with magical creatures for now. And before you ask about what that is under Parseltongue, it just means that you have gained the ability to understand a certain type of magical creature."

"What's the use of understanding if I can't talk back to them and they understand me?"

"Given that it says "magical creature", likely whatever you can understand can understand you anyways."

There was a moment of silence. Then Dumbledore said "If you would Poppy, I think it would be time to give Harry that spell you recommended he learn."

"What spell sir?" Harry asked as Pomfrey left to get it.

"When we learned that your tears have healing powers, Poppy recommended you learning a spell that causes the caster to cry without inflicting pain or anything. It's easy to learn and lasts as long as the castor wishes it to last. You may find it useful in times of crisis where a healer is not available and your tears may save another's life."

"Just who would actually need to use that spell other than me? I doubt there are any people many people out there with tears like mine and I can't imagine needing a spell to make you cry for anything."

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's a funny story actually. It involves nurses and when needing to have incredible control of their emotions was a part of the job description. Bottom line, they no longer have to control their emotions so much, but the spell was never taken off the required spell learning list to become a Mediwitch"

Pomfrey returned, holding a piece of paper. She had him memorize the incantation first before even touching his wand. Once he had, she nodded. "Ok, then Mr. Potter. The wand motion is just a simple flick." She showed him, before directing him to try it with his own wand.

As soon as his hands brushed the wood of the handle of his wand, he knew something was wrong. He lost control of his hand as his fingers lurched forward and locked around the handle so tight they turned white. "Something's wrong…" He mumbled as he suddenly felt weak. It felt like all his energy was being drained away as his wand suddenly grew burningly hot in his hand and began to glow.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Dumbledore's concerned face was the last thing he saw as darkness overtook him again.

Dumbledore sighed as Harry slumped forward, hand still locked around his still glowing wand. With a wave of his wand, Harry was back in the bed, tucked in. She glanced at Harry's wand uncertainly as she started to go to take it. "Allow me." Dumbledore smiled charmingly as he pushed her hand back. "I think first we need to cast a muscle relaxing spell on his hand first, don't you?"

Pomfrey nodded and with a silent word and a wave of her wand Harry's hand relaxed. Playing it safe, Dumbledore pulled out a small metal figurine of a metal man out of his pocket. With one wave he enlarged it to the size of a large child sized statue. With another, he animated it and gave it the command to pick up Harry's wand. It did so, holding the wand as the glow slowly died down. Dumbledore transfigured Harry's now empty cup into a metal box just big enough to hold Harry's wand and had his animated statue place it in the box. Holding the box in one hand, he undid the charms and collected his figurine from the floor and asked "How is he Poppy?"

Pomfrey didn't answer. Instead, she retrieved the piece of paper with Harry's information on it. Producing a small knife from the inside of her robes, she grabbed Harry's hand, cast a spell on it to temporarily numb pain, and pricked the end of his index finger, drawing blood. Healing the cut, she tapped the knife with her finger, knocking off a drop of blood onto the piece of paper and tapped the paper with her wand. The writing on it wavered as the paper updated itself to Harry's condition and the blood disappeared into the paper.

"His magical exhaustion got worse, but judging from how fast he recovered last time he should be back up tomorrow. He has some burns on his hand, but I can give him a salve for that when he wakes. Albus, what just happened with his wand? I've never seen anything like that, in all my years."

Albus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "An extremely rare occurrence, but given what happened not completely unexpected. I'm afraid we are going to have to bring in someone with more knowledge pertaining to wands than me before anything is done. In the mean time I suggest that, at least for now, we keep his wand from him until this matter is resolved."

Poppy nodded. Gesturing to Harry, she said "I trust that, given his changes, there are no longer any reasons against him receiving treatment for malnourishment?"

Albus nodded. 'His relatives will already notice his changes as is. Might as well go all in and hope for the best. Besides, if things go the way I hope, he will only spend the bare minimum there that he has to in order to make sure that the wards are charged.' "Yes, go ahead and make preparations for that as well as the burn salve and something to help manage that full body soreness. Something to help speed along recovery from magical exhaustion too, if you can."

Poppy nodded as another silvery doe walked right through the wards and the screen. It spoke with Snape's voice. "Albus, a rumor of your return has spread and Lucius has informed me that he has decided to come to the school tomorrow with his house elf to see the truth of the matter. I could not dissuade him."

Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'From the memories gleaned from Ronald and Ginerva from there encounter in Flourish and Blotts it was Mr. Malfoy who slipped young Miss Weasley the diary in the first place. Perhaps it's time for me to return it to him?' Dumbledore thought, having recalled when the currently sleeping redhead had woken and he'd interrogated her about where she got the diary from, questioning her brother when all she was sure of was that she got it in Flourish and Blotts, but wasn't sure when. Alongside her brother, he took memories from both of them and proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mr. Malfoy had slipped the diary among Ginerva's school text books in Flourish and Blotts.

What truly frustrated the ancient wizard was the fact that memories were too easily fabricated and altered, thus they were not admissible in court. 'Which is a good thing, as much as I don't like it. It'd be too easy to get anyone convicted with fake memories.'

Unless he somehow got Malfoy senior to confess to his crimes before a full Wizengamot, and even then it would be spotty given how Fudge was in his pocket. Albus frowned. Despite that memories weren't admissible in court, many believed in them. He could possibly use the memories to sway many members of Wizengamot to call an investigation into the Malfoy family.

Of course, such an investigation probably wouldn't lead anywhere, of that Albus was sure. The substantial amount of gold in the Malfoy vaults would see to that. 'But it would cause a rather large amount of trouble for him…' Dumbledore sighed, a slight frown marring his face. 'It may leave a bad taste in my mouth, but I'll live with it. The official channels are closed on this, so blackmail is the route left.'

End Chapter

I guessed on the height, weight, and age.

Anyway, tell me what you think. Any good? Is it worth continuing, at the very least?