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Alteration (Corruption 3)	By : Beren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5641 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Title: Alteration
(Corruption 3)

Part: 1/5

Author: Beren (aka Didi)

Email: beren@dtwins.co.uk

Livejournal: http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=beren_writes

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created
and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money
is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warnings: This story is set post OOTP and therefore has SPOLIERS.

Summary: Harry has returned to Hogwarts after Dumbledore took charge
of the situation at Malfoy Manor, but is he safe from the Ministry and is the
world safe from him?

Sequel to: Third in the Corruption Sequence after Pt1 Corruption, Pt2
Distortion

Author's Notes: Okay so this is turning into an epic, but I will continue
in the vein that each story adds to the last and the sequence could stop at
the end of any of them. Thanks go to Soph for beta reading this as usual.

Alteration (Corruption
3) - Chapter 1/5

When Malfoy shifted as if to move off the bed, Harry's instinctive reaction
was to tighten his loose embrace and not let his bed partner go. Surprisingly
that caused the Slytherin to laugh.

"I have to use the
loo," Malfoy said and gently, but firmly moved Harry's arm.

It was another one of those
moments when Harry was sharply aware that if he insisted in his position, his
companion would have no choice but to conform, and yet found himself letting
the Slytherin have his way even though his reasoning in the situation had nothing
to do with logic. Watching Malfoy climb off the bed and saunter towards the
bathroom in all his naked glory gave Harry a nice view, but that wasn't why
he let it happen either. It was almost as if Malfoy had a get out of jail free
card, which the darker part of Harry found strangely disturbing and the human
part couldn't quite understand.

"You should think
about getting up as well," his companion said as he disappeared into the
bathroom, "it is only lunch time after all."

At this, one little voice
in his head told the world to go shove its rationality, another pointed out
that during the day was a perfect time to be sleeping, and a third looked at
the discarded books on the table and agreed that possibly Malfoy had a point.
They had been lying around for a good half an hour since their rather satisfying
tryst and Harry slowly stretched and climbed off the bed. The shirt he was still
partially wearing was crumpled and a little on the sticky side so he pulled
it off and threw it at the basket in the corner.

He looked at the door of
the bathroom and considered invading it as well since he wanted to be clean,
but then turned and ed ted to the desk, leaving Malfoy to his ablutions alone.
Picking up his trousers and his underwear he laid them over the back of the
chair and aimlessly glanced at the book he had discarded when his companion
arrived, waiting for the Slytherin to finish whatever he was doing. The illustration
on the open page was of a banshee mid wail, forever caught crying her grief
to the world, and it was a mournful picture that filled him with a strange melancholy.
They had briefly studied banshees last year in DADA and about the only thing
that had been important at the time was to avoid the creatures, and cast a silencing
charm at the first opportunity if faced with one about to open her mouth.

Now he found that the creatures'
fate to scream their pain was much more important to him and he ran a finger
over thvingving picture, wondering at how little the Wizarding world really
understood about magical creatures. When he finally moved, he turned and found
Malfoy watching him from the doorway of the bathroom. The Slytherin had a very
contemplative expression on his face and Harry could not help wondering what
was going through his companionind.ind.

"I never thought of
you as someone who would be comfortable naked," Malfoy said eventually
and wandered further into the room, looking around for his clothes.

Harry glanced down at himself
and realised that he hadn't actually been thinking about it at all. He had thought
about putting his clothes back on because the air in the room was slightly less
warm than was comfortable without activity, but he really wasn't bothered otherwise.
It occurred to him that this was quite odd considering the fact that he had
not wanted to look at himself in the mirror, but he could not explain quite
a lot of his mind at the moment so he didn't see why this should be any different.

"I wasn't," he
admitted honestly, and walked towards the bathroom.

He was sure he would end
up analysing what he was feeling sooner or later, since it was in his nature
to brood, but right then he didn't feel like it and he simply wanted to be clean.
He wandered into the smaller room and set about his immediate task, letting
his mind drift away from serious thoughts as he became absorbed in what he was
doing. Malfoy's curiosity could wait until later.

It was only as he stepped
out of the bathroom again, clean to his own satisfaction that his thoughts clicked
back on, and they were suddenly focused on only one thing. Malfoy was slowly
pulling on his clothes and the glimpses of pale flesh in graceful motion high-jacked
every sentient impulse in Harry's body. Motor function kicked back in after
a moment and he discarded the towel he was using to dry himself off in favour
of putting his fingers to better use on his lover.

He walked up behind Malfoy
as the Slytherin was pulling on his shirt and he found his hands moving without
much conscious thought as he reached up and pulled the collar away from his
companion's neck before Malfoy could begin to fasten any of the buttons. He
ran one finger down the pale skin he revealed and continued to pull off the
shirt with his other hand.

"You cannot still
be hungry," Malfoy said, but did not pull his top back on.

"Wasn't hungry the
last time," Harry said shortly, feeling the pull towards the Slytherin
never the less.

"You certainly felt
like you were," was the response as Harry removed the shirt completely
again, running his hands over his lover's arms.

"Not the hunger,"
he said almost absently as his eyes ran over pale shoulders and back, "I
find you irresistible."

Something was trying to
attract his attention, something which was speaking to his instincts, but not
his higher brain and it was definitely to do with Malfoy. He had not realised
that his words might have an impact on the Slytherin until his companion turned
and looked at him in quite a shocked manner.

"You are attracted
to me without the hunger?" Malfoy sounded surprised and a little confused.

It occurred to Harry then
that the Slytherin appeared to have convinced himself that the only reason he
was fixating on his lover was because of the incubus' needs, and while the incubus
definitely drove his sexual appetite, it was not only his instincts which were
guiding him. He didn't really understand it himself; after all, Malfoy had been
his enemy for so long that any idea of an attraction between them, which was
not based on extreme circumstances, was quite strange. However, Harry could
quite honestly say that his human nature was as attracted to Malfoy as his dark
nature, a fact which at one time might have horrified him, but which now simply
puzzled him. Whether the uninhibited nature of the beast within had allowed
him to realise something which had previously passed him by, or whether his
human nature was adapting to cope with his new situation, he had no idea, and
he could not explain it to himself yet.

"Yes," he said
simply annt bnt back to what he was doing.

He walked behind the shocked
Slytherin and took the opportunity to move in close, pressing his bare chest
against Malfoy's naked back. He smiled into his lover's hair as he ran his hands
down Malfoy's arms again, encircling the Slytherin's wrists with his fingers
and nuzzling at the beautiful long neck. Malfoy was motionless under his attentions,
he did not resist, but neither did he encourage, but Harry was too wrapped up
in the feeling of what he was doing to take much notice.

Lifting Malfoy's left arm
he brought his lover's wrist to eye level, his gaze running g thg the pale,
elegant limb. It was inevitable that his attention would end up resting on the
Dark Mark; black ugly lines etched onto alabaster skin, stating a claim even
after death.

"He is not yours,"
Harry whispered as if Voldemort could still hear him, "he is mine."

The feeling of possession
was all encompassing and hatred of the reminder of the Dark Lord flared in Harry's
chest. Before he could consciously decidat hat he was going to do, he moved
around his human once more and with a swift step he shifted them both across
the room until Malfoy was pushed up against the wall. Harry pinned his lover
there, left arm stretched out against the stone surface with his hand covering
the offending mark.

"Never his,"
he said low in his throat, totally fixated on that one thought.

"Never his,"
Malfoy repeated, grey eyes looking directing into Harry's.

"Mine," Harry
said firmly.

Malfoy did not reply this
time, but neither did he flinch, nor look away. When Harry crushed his lips
to his lover's, the Slytherin responded immediately and Malfoy's mouth opened
to be claimed by Harry's tongue.

'Mine': the word continued
to repeat in Ha's m's mind like a mantra, consuming every other thought in its
wake, demanding the universe acknowledge that it was true. He was so lost in
the rhythm of the mental sound and the sweet taste of his lover's mouth the
he did not feel the power building in him until is spilled out of his body.

The kiss broke the moment
the magic burst its bonds and Malfoy's head went back to rest against the wall
with a sound somewhere between a moan of ecstasy and a cry of pain. Their bodies
were pushed together and Harry held firm as the Slytherin writhed against him;
at that moment he was as incapable of moving as Malfoy was to stop reacting.
The power flood out of him and into his lover as the mantra repeated over and
over in his mind; Voldemort would retain no part of what was his.

When the magic finally
ran dry, Harry slumped forward against the now panting Slytherin, resting his
head on his lover's shoulder as his human did the same to him. Only the friction
of the wall prevented them both sliding towards the ground and for long seconds
they remained in that position, leaning against each other with the stone stopping the them falling to the floor. Harry was not sure how to describe this latest experience,
but he definitely felt as if he had been through a marathon session of something.

"I think I'd like
to sit down," were Draco's quiet words, which finally drew him out of his
daze, and he forced himself to stand up properly in response.

Grey eyes were looking
at him in a rather dazed fashion, but slowly both their gazes moved to where
Harry's hand was still covering his lover's arm. Almost as if he might see something
terrible Harry tentatively uncurled his fingers and reluctantly pulled back
his limb. A rather shocked gasp was the Slytherin's only reaction at first,
as the pale limb was drawn in and examined.

"Draco, I..."
and then Harry stopped as he realised what he had said.

The startled look on his
lover's features as he glanced up was even more shocked than before. It was
then that Harry realised that not only had he changed Draco's Dark Mark so that
only the snake remained, curled gently around itself rather than sliding from
a skull's mouth, but also something fundamental had shifted inside his head.
Where before there had been Malfoy, his human, there was Draco; still his, but
much more a person than simply the Prince of Slytherin. Malfoy was his lover;
Draco had the possibility of being far more.

"What do you want
from me?" Draco did not seem to be able to comprehend what was going on.

Harry stepped up to the Slytherin again and ran his fingers lightly over the
new mark.

"A friend," he
said quietly.

====

Sitting propped up on the bed with a book in his lap and his foot pressed up
against the warmth of Draco's side, Harry felt almost content. The Slytherin
was lying on his front reading a school text book, and Harry found thy hiy his
lover scrunched up his forehead when he concentrated adorable. The fact that
Draco still hadn't done his shirt up and hence every time he moved gave Harry
glimpses of pale flesh was an added bonus as well.

"Were you supposed
to be anywhere this afternoon?" he asked eventually as it occurred to him
that it was a Wednesday (it had been so mad since he had been kidnapped that
it was hard to believe it had been under five days ago).

"No," Draco replied
absently, lost in his reading, "Dumbledore gave me today to adjust back
into the school routine. I start lessons tomorrow, well that is unless they
call a national holiday or something, and then I have a make up timetable from
hell. It seems the headmaster wants me to pass my N.E.W.T.s even though I might
be in Azkaban before I can take them."

A small growl sounded in
the back of Harry's throat at that idea and his companion finally looked up
at him. The idea of anyone trying to take away his human, his Draco, set Harry
completely on edge and he could not control the reaction. It occurred to him
that the calming field did not appear to be working, but he could not care less
as he concentrated on his lover.

"You never belonged
to him," he said in a dangerously low tone, "and you never did anything."

Draco glanced down at the
black snake on his wrist as Harry spoke and it was clear he was remembering
what had occurred over an hour earlier. Harry felt a little embarrassed by his
act, bu, but also perfectly justified in taking them.

"I am, however, a
Malfoy," the Slytherin replied with practical logic, "and since my
father is dead, the Ministry would very much like to make an example of the
family. Mother never had the mark, which leaves meot;"But no one would
believe me capable of such a fake," Draco pointed out, "and my father
was openly in support of Voldemort. Who could create something that would fool
the Dark Lord at his own ceremony?"

"Dumbledore,"
Harry said firmly.

Snape inclined his head
in agreement; the Potions master appeared to have been thinking the same thing.

"Why?" Draco
continued to play devil's advocate in a typically Slytherin, pessimistic manner.

Now Snape looked directly
at Harry, as if considering something and Harry stared back steadily.

"Mr Potter,"
the Potions master said evenly, "would you lie to the Ministry for Mr Malfoy?"

"I think that's probably
a better solution to tearing them into little tiny pieces," he replied
openly, his hand curling protectively around Draco's wrist.

Snape's eyes did the flicking
between him and Draco again and Harry could tell the Potions master was reassessing
his opinion of them yet again. Merlin knew what the wizard was thinking, but
Harry did not really care as long as the Head of Slytherin remained firmly on
Draco's side.

"Then, Mr Potter,"
Snape said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "with the
headmaster's agreement, I would suggest we use a cover story which will not
only turn suspicion from Mr Malfoy, but also assist with the acceptance of your
relationship currently."

Now all of Harry's attention
was firmly focussed on the man.

"You and Mr Malfoy
have been involved since before the end of the sixth year," Snape explained
evenly. "You kept the relationship a secret from everyone except Dumbledore,
knowing that it would be used to exploit you both. Returning home for the Summer,
you, Mr Malfoy, were aware that your father would make you join the Death Eaters,
hence the fake mark, designed to become visible at the ceremony, and resemble
and mimic the properties of the real Dark Mark until such time as Voldemort
was destroyed. His influence took time to dissipate after his death and hence
your mark did not change until now. Your experiences after Mr Potter's changes
led you both to deny that there was anything between you and this attitude only
altered when Mr Malfoy's mark transformed. The story will undoubtedly leak to
the press and will have witches wailing in the aisles about the romance of the
whole thing."

Draco looked very impressed
and Harry found himself agreeing whole heartedly with his lover's assessment.

"Professor Snape,"
he said sincerely, feeling oddly like the awkward teenager he was supposed to
be, "that's brilliant."

After his more than apparent
enjoyment of the plotting, Snape had returned to his role as austere Potions
master and Harry's comment caused merely a raised eyebrow. Tapping Harry's arm
Snape removed the band and Harry was surprised to see that the flask was already
full.

"You will of course
have to work out the details between yourselves," the Potions master said
evenly. "I will speak to the headmaster. No doubt such romantic notions
will appeal to him."

Harry was not about to
argue; his delight at the new plan was so great that it was almost enough to
squelch the desire he had been harbouring to rend Auror Caveo limb from limb.
As Snape turned to leave, Harry looked at Draco, and although his lover did
not appear as enthusiastic about the whole idea he could tell that the Slytherin
was intrigued. They were going to have a lot to talk about.

====

Nearly two hours later Harry finally let Draco leave. It had taken more willpower
than he cared to admit to let the Slytherin go, but they had talked the new
plan into the ground and Draco couldn't exactly stay locked up with him forever.
After he'd chucked a few cushions and pillows around the room to appease the
completely irrational annoyance at having to allow his human out of his sight,
he went and sat back at the desk. Then and only then did he pull the parchment
Snape had given him out of his pocket. It sat on the desk taunting him after
he let it drop from his fingers; he was afraid to open it.

He knew he was a monster,
but what other horrors would Snape's work reveal. How much magic had been forced
into him over those forgotten two days? How many creatures lurked within him
just waiting to show him their darkness?

It took him a good five
minutes to squash the little voice that kept telling him it was better not to
know; that he would find out if he needed to and that ignorance was often easier
than knowledge. Reaching out quickly, he unfolded the document and placed it
flat in front of him, Snape's neat handwriting leaping out to meet his gaze. allialling up his Gryffindor courage he began to read. The first four creatures
listed were not unexpected: vampire; banshee; Dementor and werewolf, but the
fifth caught his eye: shadow fae. He had no idea what one of those was, which
rather circumvented his fear with a healthy dose of curiosity. Turning to the
book he had been reading before Draco arrived, he flicked to the index.

"Shadow fae,"
he read aloud, not caring that there was no one to hear him, "dark creature,
related to a fairy. Feeds on the chemical reactions of a physical body in pain
and can be found anywhere pain is being suffered by human or animal. These creatures
are scavengers and rarely dangerous unless present in large numbers, when they
will attack. They have the ability to become non-corporeal and pass through
solid material, but are intolerant to light and may be dispersed by a simple
Lumos spell. Basic wards will prevent them entering a building."

Well that explained his
little trick with the door the night he had killed Voldemort and at least this
creature didn't sound too bad. Picking up the list once more he continued down
it: incubus, boggart and basilisk were next, and then the last creature listed
was another one that he remembered vaguely from DADA: Ethologi, but he could
not recall any details. Studiously he went back to the book.

"Ethologi, commonly
known as doppelgangers are rare and extremely dangerous to magical beings,"
he read slowly, not liking this one at all. "In their natural state these
creatures appear as a black pool of liquid, but they have the power to mimic
anything living with which they come into contact. They use this ability to
hunt, taking on the form of something familiar to their prey and slowly draining
the victim of magical energy. The shock to the system of being drained of all
magic will kill most magical beings, including humans and recovery from a partial
attack can take months. Being liquid based logilogi are intolerant to fire and
a flame spell will repel, although not kill, one."

Now he knew where the faint
urge to draw the magic out of Dumbledore had come from, and how it was that
his sense of magic seemed heightened. He only prayed that this creature's power
within him never became as strong as those he had already used: he would not
ever, under any circumstances knowingly drain anyone of magic; he would rather
die first. Magic was very precious to Harry, and it was something to be treasured.
The whole idea of the Ethologi made his skin crawl.

He sighed and closed the
book; it could have been worse, at least the list wasn't longer. Briefly it
occurred to him that the ability to mimic anyone and any thing could be useful,
but he put the idea aside. If he tried to use a power that was not at the surface
he might bring with it the creatures cravings, and while the desire to feed
off of powerful magical sources was just a niggling urge it could become something
much worse. Picking up the book he headed back to the bed and the other tome
he had left lying around. Sitting down, leaning against the headboard he flicked
to the index of the other book knowing it never hurt to have multiple sources;
at mat much Hermione had drummed into him over the years.

====

"Harry Potter, Sir," a familiar, squeaky voice interrupted his contemplations
and he looked to the side to see Dobby standing there looking rather worried,
"Dobby is sorry to be disturbing you, but Headmaster Dumbledore is telling
Dobby that if Harry Potter is not asking for food by the time the rest of the
school is having diner, Dobby is to go to Harry Potter and be offering his services."

Harry blinked at the house
elf in surprise; it was dinner time? He had thought it was only about four o'clock.
Adding up the time in his mind he realised it had to be much later than that
because Draco had been with him for a considerable length of time.

"Oh, thanks, Dobby,"
he said a little absently, his mind still on what he was reading, "anything
will be fine."

The house elf beamed at
being accepted and disappeared with a soft pop just as Harry caught up with
what he had said. With a sinking feeling he realised that he was probably going
to end up with enough food to feed an army, and he wasn't really that hungry.
He'd also answered without remembering that there was a large amount of things
that he couldn't eat any more. Just as he was trying to figure out how to explain
to the house elf why he wasn't eating everything put in front of him without
insulting the poor creature, Dobby popped back in again.

"Dobby is just remembering,
Harry Potter, Sir," the elf said cheerfully, "Headmaster Dumbledore
is also explaining how Harry Potter can no longer eat all of his favourites.
Dobby is wondering if Harry Potter could be a bit more specific about what he
is liking?"

"I'm sorry, Dobby,"
Harry apologised quickly, "I wasn't really paying attention. Anything meat
based would be fine, but no pastry if possible. Green veggies are good, but
anything else is hit or miss. As for pudding, I have this real thing for custard,
but I can't seem to eat anything that goes with it; ice cream is good too."

The elf nodded sagely.

"Dobby will be bringing
Harry Potter a selection," Dobby said seriously, "that way next time
Dobby will be knowing what Harry Potter likes."

"Thank you,"
Harry replied with genuine gratitude.

The elf disappeared a second
time and discovering that his foot had gone numb; Harry decided it was time
to get up and move around a bit. A trip to the loo wouldn't be amiss either
and he quickly busied himself with preparing for dinner. It wa he he was pulling
on a T-shirt that Jeremy's familiar throat-clearing attracted his attention.
After Draco had left he had instructed the portrait to announce anyone that
came to the door, at which point he would decided if they could come in or not.
It was easier than having the poor man threatened every time a Slytherin dropped
by.

"Yes, Jeremy," Harry asked politely.

"Headmaster Dumbledore
requests a few moments of your time," the portrait replied efficiently,
"should I let him in?"

"Yes thank you,"
Harry replied, although on the inside he was dreading the visit.

It was one thing to know
that the crafty old wizard had known that Draco would be visiting, the wards
letting the Slytherin through making that much obvious, but to have to talk
about that and other things was not a comforting idea. Dumbledore would be kind,
and considerate and supportive, but at times Harry preferred Snape's straightforwardness
to the headmaster's concern. However the moment Dumbledore stepped into the
room, Harry forgot about just about everything as his attention focused solely
on the covered something that the headmr war was carrying in his right hand.

The vague unease at being
in the presence of such a magically gifted individual was dwarfed as his nose
twitched and his teeth ached; he could smell blood and his vampire aspect had
sat up and taken notice.

"Good evening, Harry,"
Dumbledore greeted pleasantly, "I do hope you don't mind, but I asked Dobby
to inform me when he would be bringing you your evening meal."

"Hello," Harry
managed to say, although what he really wanted to do was launch himself at the
headmaster and take whatever was under the cloth.

"I do hope you are
settling in," the older wizard continued conversationally. "Professor
Snape informed me of his previous visit and what you did for Mr Malfoy; an ingenious
plan I must admit. Under normal circumstances I would never condone falsifying
such an important matter, but I must admit to perceiving that the Ministry may
be attempting to make an example of the Malfoy family, although Lucius has already
paid the ultimate price."

The smell was driving Harry
crazy and he could barely hold himself still; it was only as Dumbledore smiled
at him with something more than the usual twinkle in his eye that Harry realised
the headmaster knew exactly what he was doing. In a flash of insight that rarely
ever happened to him, Harry became aware that he was being tested. Part of him
was furious and demanded to be set free, but this time his human nature won
and he pushed the instincts down. Dumbledore appeared pleased as if the headmaster
was completely aware of Harry's internal struggle, and approved of the outcome.

"Professor Snape is
an ingenious man," Harry said without the slightest trace of sarcasm; it
was a truth he had taken a long time to see.

With a nod Dumbledore placed
whatever he was carrying on the desk and calmly conjured himself a chair. Another
test, Harry was sure of it as his control was tried yet again; this time he
had wanted to react to the magic and the possible danger it represented, but
biting his lip he did not even let loose the animalistic growl that threatened.
The casual bravery the headmaster employed as he all but faced down the darkest
creature ever known to wizard kind wctuactually quite astounding.

"This is for you,"
Dumbledore finally said as if they both didn't know what he had been doing.

Pulling off the cloth the
headmaster revealed a goblet full of deep red liquid.

"I understand that
Mr Malfoy has, shall we say, volunteered to assist with your other known needs,"
Dumbledore said chattily, which would have made Harry blush to the roots of
his hair if he had not been quite so fixated on the blood, "but I believe
it would be prudent to avoid first person donation for your vampire tendencies.
Professor Snape's tests confirm that you are in no way contagious, but we do
not want any accidents. Several Gryffindors have volunteered to give blood on
your behalf, although they are unaware of exactly why, andame ame Pomfrey recommends
you should drink once every other day to avoid any chance of the hunger returning."

Harry was almost vibrating
as he held on to his control and prevented himself pouncing on the goblet. It
was with the utmost care that he walked the final few feet to the desk and shakily
picked up the vessel. It smelt like nectar from heaven and he could not hold
back anymore. His fangs descended in response and the first mouthful sent the
most wonderful sensations all over his body. Had he been alone he would have
groaned, as it was he managed to stifle his reaction into a breathy gasp. After
that he couldn't stop, and he tipped the goblet back, drinking greedily as the
velvety liquid flowed down his throat. Normal food just couldn't compare anymore;
this was more than sustenance, it was life; and yet, when he finally placed
the goblet back on the table, every drop gone, there was a fraction of a second
when it felt as if something was missing.

"Everything all right,
Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly as he stared at the cup trying to isolate
the fleeting sensation.

"Um, what?" Harry
responded, rather dazed at his reaction, "oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you.
That was just a little intense."

The headmaster's response
was his usual benevolent smile and Harry had no doubt his entire performance
had been catalogued for posterity. It was then that he remembered that the calming
field he was sure had been in place before did not appear to have been working
all day.

"Did you remove the
calming charm that was on the room?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, Harry,"
the headmaster replied lightly, "I felt it necessary to assist with your
transition to here, however, I am a strong believer in not allowing oneself
to become reliant on artificial means of support."

He had not expected quite
such a straight forward answer, but he could not ignore the logic of it. Nodding
slowly in agreement he glanced at the goblet one more time as he went over what
he had been feeling as he had drunk the blood.

"Would you mind terribly
if I joined you for dinner, My Boy?" Dumbledore asked politely. "I
believe there are some things we need to discus and if you are willing, now
would seem an appropriate time."

Harry was in two minds
as to whether he really wanted to have this conversation, but he knew which
the sensible, adult answer was, and he reluctantly nodded. He sat down at the
desk just as Dobby reappeared and then suddenly there was a table between him
and the headmaster, covered in food.

"Thank you, Dobby,"
Dumbledore said cheerfully, before Harry recovered from his surprise, "you
have outdone yourself. Please carry our thanks to the kitchen elves."

The house elf disappeared
with a huge smile. It was all Harry could do not to stare at the table: even
at the school feasts he didn't think he had seen so much food crammed into one
place.

"I think I should
have been more specific," he said rather lamely.

"Perhaps it would
be a good idea to eat while it's hot," the headmaster suggested with a
smile and handed Harry a plate.

The blood had settled in
Harry's stomach nicely and he was quite surprised to find that he did actually
feel hungry in a very human way now, rather than anything else. He was beginning
to suspect that the headmaster knew exactly what he was about, and he really
didn't feel like second guessing his mentor. Accepting the plate, he decided
that Dumbledore could test him all he liked; nothing he could do would stop
it so he might as well just let it happen. Knowing that he was being watched,
he ignored the headmaster for a while and set about deciding what he could and
could not eat from the incredible spread in front of him. In the end he sat
back with a nice helping of some sort of stew, some green beans and a large
helping of carrots, and Dumbledore had chosen an eclectic mix of shepherds pie,
sprouts and a large stick of celery he was using instead of a fork, chewing
the end off when he felt like it. They ate in companionable silence for a few
minutes and Harry felt himself starting to relax, despite his anxiety.

"Well, Harry,"
Dumbledore said eventually as he reached for a second stick of celery, "I
think perhaps we should consider you continuing your lessons, we wouldn't want
you to fall too far behind."

That confused the magic
out of Harry and pushed all thoughts of eating from his mind, he froze, mid
bite.

"Um, how?" he
asked openly. "I can't leave here and I don't have a wand."

"Ah, yes," the
headmaster replied, fishing in his pocket in a superb impression of a forgetful
old man, which Harry knew for a fact he most definitely was not, "I believe
this is yours."

With a flourish Dumbledore
held out Harry's wand and all he could do was stare at it as if it might bite.
So many reasons for him not to take it jumped into his head that they clashed
with the part of him that was completely delighted and immobilized him into
complete inaction.

"Where did you find
it?" he eventually managed to ask, delaying the moment when he would have
to reach out and accept it back.

It was such a powerful
thing to give a wizard a wand and Harry knew he was dangerous enough as it was,
without giving him another weapon. The wand was like part of him, had been since
he was eleven, but he was no longer sure how large a piece of him was fit to
accept it.

"Tom had it hidden
in the chamber where he died," Dumbledore explained patiently; "under
his chair to be precise. It was warded, but I retrieved it before the Aurors
arrived."

It did not surprise him
that the headmaster had had his wand all the time, but it did surprise him that
he was being given it back. He had had no expectations of being allowed to be
a real wizard any time soon, if ever.

"I'm not safe,"
Harry said in little more than a whisper, although it caused him great pain
to try and refuse the return.

"Your magic has changed,
Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, "and the longer you are without your
wand, the more difficult it will be for you to take it back. I know you are
afraid of yourself, My Boy, you have much which challenges your control, but
I am sure you will come through this. With the support of those of us fortunate
enough to look upon you as family, you will return to us; maybe not quite the
same, but never-the-less, whole."

The faith of an old wizard
could seem to some such an insignificant thing, but it took Harry's breath away.
With a shaking hand he placed his plate back on the table and slowly reached
out to take back his wand. It was like putting on a warm glove as his fingers
curled around the wooden shaft and he felt energy shoot up his arm. There was
no pain or electric shock with the wand rejecting him, just the comfortable
feeling of finding a part of himself that he had lost, and a half laugh, half
sob erupted from his mouth before he could stop it. So many things had changed,
he was so different he was not sure anyone would understand, but this, this
was still his and he did not know whether to laugh or cry.

"It is a hard thing
to lose a wand," the headmaster said sagely, "but it is such a beautiful
thing to find one again."

"Thank you,"
was all Harry could find to say as he cradled the wand to him, almost as if
it was a child.

They did not speak for
a long time as Harry lost himself in the moment. Eventually he looked up and
over at the desk; there was one more thing he needed to do. With a swish and
a flick he pointed the wand at one of the smaller books.

"Wingardium Leviosa,"
he said calmly and the spell launched from the tip of his wand.

The book bounced off the
ceiling.

"Oh hell," Harry
said quite distinctly.

"Indeed," Dumbledore
said pleasantly, "perhaps it would be fortuitous to regulate the power
behind the spell just a little more."

Harry just gave Dumbledore
a look for that comment. It occurred to him then that Voldemort could have had
no concept of what he was going to create, if the Dark Lord had known that Harry's
wizarding power would increase so significantly he would have been a fool to
allow it to happen. Even insane dark wizards knew that you didn't create something
more powerful than yourself.

After that, they made it
to pudding without further incident, chatting about inane things like the last
house Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and the state of the
East Tower after having been hit by a class worth of freezing charms when Professor
Flitwick had taken his third year lesson outside. It was all really quite pleasant,
which was why Harry's defences were low when Dumbledore decided to become serious
again.

"About your friends,
Harry." He dropped the apple he had just picked up as the headmaster spoke.

Hermione, Ron, Neville
and the rest were a subject he had been attempting not to think about; he didn't
know what they knew and he definitely didn't want to have to consider how they
would react. As far as he was concerned it was better for all parties if they
stayed as far away as possible and dissociated themselves with him.

"What about them?"
he asked, trying to keep his voice cold and emotionless.

"They wish to see
you," Dumbledore said sympathetically, but in a tone that suggested to
Harry he felt this was very important; "they have been most anxious since
your abduction. Mr Weasley insisted on leaving the hospital wing before he was
fully recovered in order that he could be with Miss Granger waiting for news
of you."

"Ron was hurt?"
guilt welled up in Harry as he realised he had been so wrapped up in his own
problems that he had no idea what had happened to his friends.

He had asked Dumbledore
if they were all right when they had spoken at Malfoy Manor, but he had gone
no further with his enquiries. Ron had been with himing ing the attack; it was
really blindingly obvious that his best friend could have been hurt. For a moment
he felt a little resentful that Dumbledore had not told him everything at their
first meeting, but logic quickly informed him that he had been in no state of
mind to deal with the details at that point.

"He was assaulted
by a rather nasty blasting hex," the headmaster replied. "The wall
which stopped his progress was, I believe his exact words were 'bloody hard',
and he sustained some nasty bruising and several broken bones. Madame Pomfrey
patched him up in her usual proficient fashion, and I believe he has only one
bandage remaining to show for his war wounds. Miss Granger has been making a
suitable fuss of him."

Harry could just imagine;
Hermione was incredibly practical, but when it came to her friends being hurt,
she had been known to go over the top. It didn't happen often, but Hermione
could actually be quite girly when she set her mind to it.

"Have you told them?"
It was the question that was really praying on his mind. "Do they know
what Voldemort did to me?"

"I rather believe
they should be made aware of the truth," the Dumbledore said evenly, "however,
I refrained from explaining the situation until such time as I could consult
you in the matter. I am of the opinion that telling them sooner rather than
later will be the most advantageous to you as well as them. They are aware you
are recovering from Voldemort's attentions, but they are unaware of the consequences
of Tom's machinations."

Sitting back in the chair
Harry stared at the table; rationally he knew that he could not hide forever,
people were going to find out the truth, but knowing this did not stop him being
afraid, and being afraid made him tense, and being tense disrupted his control,
and that let his baser instincts to the surface. Swiping viciously at the table
he sent one bowl flying and stormed to his feet, turning away from Dumbledore
and the headmaster's logic, as anger won over sense. His desire to destroy something
was almost overpowering, but he walked away, trying to bring back the relative
calm that the Occlumency usually helped him find. Why did everything have to
be so hard?

"I don't want them
to know," he said as all the terrible possibilities flooded into his mind,
"I don't want anyone to ever know."

Lashing out with claws
and supernatural strength he took a chunk out of one of the bed posts; the pain
of the impact was so much easier to deal with than the pain he felt in his heart.
Fascinated he watched as the mess of splinters slowly reformed as if organically
growing back and it helped to bring his raging thoughts under control.

"What we want and
what we are required to endure are unfortunately, often quite dissimilar,"
Dumbledore said calmly, obviously in great white sage mode.

The cynical part of Harry
wanted to tell the headmaster where to stick his wisdom, but he managed to curb
that impulse.

"At least they won't
want to see me anymore," he said coldly, "once they know what I am."

Dumbledore appeared disappointed
by that statement.

"I believe you do
your friends a great disservice with those words, Harry," the headmaster
responded. "They care for you very deeply, and it will take more than that
to frighten them away. I suggest you do not try and find out where that point
may be."

Harry sneered at the old
man over his shoulder; he was in no mood to play word games.

"Perhaps it is time
for me to leave you in peace," Dumbledore suggested politely. "Do
I have your permission to enlighten Mr Weasley and Miss Granger of your condition,
and maybe Mr Longbottom as well?"

That was the scale the
broke the dragon's wing and Harry snapped; the simply gentility of the headmaster's
question enraged him.

"Tell the whole bloody
world for all I care," he yelled, taking another swipe at the bed post.
"Let them point and stare; they've done it to me my whole life. Just don't
let them in here; never let them in here with me."

Harry did not watch Dumbledore
leave, but he felt him go, and a soon as he knew he was alone he let go completely
and the room filled with sound as the bedpost literally exploded.

End of Chapter 1
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Alteration (Corruption 3)