Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Wolfen	By : shadowspale Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 11286 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the world of Harry Potter and I am not getting paid for writing this work of fiction. This story is meant for entertainment only and should not be taken as a reflection of J.K Rowling’s work.

Chapter List
- 1-Wolfen (edited)
- 2-Chapter Two
- 1
- 2
Hogwarts: infirmary; the next morning.

When Harry next opened his eyes, it wasn’t to hunger, but to the sounds of people arguing. At first he was disoriented, and wondered why the caretaker was outside his room at the Dursley’s, but it was not long, merely seconds, before he realized he was at Hogwarts.

The memory of how he came to be in the infirmary came flooding back, and for a moment, he felt a surge of panic. It quickly faded when Filch began yelling something about a demon. He blinked a few times when he realized he could hear the conversation clearly, and looked to see if the door had been left ajar. It was closed tightly, as usual, which made him frown in puzzlement.

In all the times he had been sent to the hospital wing, he could not recall ever hearing what was being said in the waiting room, and he could not imagine why it was that he could now. Just then, the door opened, and the nurse came rushing in. “Good morning, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling?” she asked crisply, whipping out her wand to begin scanning him.

“Like I was attacked by the world’s meanest dog,” Harry answered hoarsely, his throat and mouth dry. His mouth had a nasty metallic taste to it, and he clucked his tongue a few times, his expression disgusted. Seeing his predicament, Pomfrey handed him the glass of charmed water sitting on the bedside table. Harry drank it gratefully, draining it before handing it back. It did little to remove the taste, but at least his tongue wasn’t trying to glue itself to the roof of his mouth any longer.

“Did they get it?” he asked, noticing how the nurse looked everywhere, but directly at him. It was unlike her, and it made him feel ill at ease. “It wasn’t a werewolf was it? It couldn’t have been; there was no full moon. Rabies…did it have rabies? It must have. I have been infected with rabies, and you are avoiding really looking at me, because I am dying!” Harry blurted out in rising alarm. His imagination was running away from him, and he failed to remember that if Muggles had a treatment for Hydrophobia, that it was a sure bet the wizarding world had one as well.

“What? No child, no. You don’t have rabies. Calm yourself, Mr. Potter!” the startled nurse said, finally lifting her eyes to Harry’s face. The truth of the matter was that she was not quite over the shock of finding him covered in blood earlier. Eyes on him now, Pomfrey saw only the student she had treated so many times; a frightened and injured child; the tenseness left her, and she relaxed visibly.

“Overlook me, please. I had a rough night, and I am not quite myself this morning. You are healing well, if slowly. I am not sure why, but the bites are not responding to healing potions. None the less, you are healing; just at the rate a Muggle would. Are you hungry?” She asked, smiling at Harry’s enthusiastic nod.

“Very well, Mr. Potter. I will have your breakfast sent from the kitchen, before I report to the headmaster that you are awake. I believe he wanted to speak with you,” she added, patting his knee reassuringly, prior to hurrying on her way.

Harry’s breakfast arrived just seconds later as a tray containing porridge, scrambled eggs and toast appeared in his lap. Butter, brown sugar, a pot of current jam and a tall glass of pumpkin juice accompanied the meal, and it all smelled so good that his mouth watered. Tucking in, Harry was surprised to find he was able to eat every bite. He grinned, hoping it meant he wouldn’t have to put up with the endless urgings to eat this year.

He had just set the tray aside when the door opened, and Dumbledore, Snape and Filch walked in. The three older wizards all wore different expressions as they came to stand at the foot of his bed. The headmaster’s face was grim; the twinkle Harry was accustomed to seeing in his eyes, not there. The caretaker looked like he was going to cry or explode; maybe both, and Snape was smirking at him as if he was an object of amusement. Harry felt like he was facing an odd sort of firing squad, and looked back at them with wide eyes; resisting the urge to slip down into bed and pull the covers over his head.

“Mr. Potter, might I ask where you were last night around one am?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry swallowed hard, this couldn’t be good. The only time the headmaster called him anything but Harry, was when he was in trouble. “Here, I suppose. I don’t really know; the last thing I remember was being locked out of the Dursleys as they were having a dinner party and then being attacked by that mean dog,” Harry said quietly, his eyes flickering back and forth between the three adults. That he hadn’t been greeted as was usual for Dumbledore or offered a piece of candy, had him chewing his lip with worry. “Is something wrong?” he asked, hoping to be given a clue as to what this was all about.

“You evil, evil little boy! You foul, loathsome, little monster!” Argus interjected, spraying spittle. Harry flinched back; less from the unwanted shower than from the pure venom in Filch’s voice.

“How could you do something like that to a poor, innocent, little puss?” he shouted, mopping at the tears that were now streaming down his face. “Mrs. Norris never hurt a soul, and you ate her like some despicable beast!”

Jaw dropping, Harry stared at the caretaker in shocked horror; eye widening to the point it was a wonder they didn’t pop out. “I did not! That is just…the very idea…its just EWWW!” he sputtered in protest. He was now sure that Filch was mad, where he had only wondered before.

“Around one thirty last night, Madam Pomfrey came in to check on you, and found you covered in fresh blood. Shortly prior to that, Mr. Filch came to report that he had found the savaged remains of his pet. You must admit it doesn’t sound like a coincidence,” Dumbledore said sternly. He didn’t think Harry could be so cruel as to kill an innocent animal, but he also couldn’t ignore the facts that pointed to it. However, he did not believe that the teen fed upon the animal; it was too much too wrap his mind around.

Feeling cornered, Harry glared back, all but bristling. “Why would I do such a thing? Mrs. Norris wasn’t very friendly, but she never hurt me. I have no reason to want her harmed, nor am I in the habit of hurting anything much less a small, scrawny cat. If I was truly covered in blood, I have no idea where it came from. I most certainly did not eat anyone’s cat! The very idea is repulsive, and I resent being accused of it!”

Sneering down at Harry, Snape pulled his wand from his sleeve. “If I may, a simple Declaro Tenor charm will solve the riddle of if in deed Potter has developed a taste for feline,” he said. He was enjoying this tremendously. He didn’t believe Harry capable of killing the wretched creature, much less consuming it, but watching him squirm under the accusations was priceless. Far too often the brat had gone un-punished for misdeeds; it only seemed fair he should be punished for something of which he wasn’t guilty.

“It will show everything he has eaten in the last two weeks, as well as the times the food was consumed,” he explained, his thin lips spreading in a malicious smile. He was of the mind the spell would catch the boy in a lie he had been telling for years; the one where he claimed his relatives starved him.

Dumbledore, who was quite tired of hearing how Harry had eaten Mrs. Norris, saw the charm as the means to shut the care taker up. The idea that Harry had eaten the cat was simply preposterous. He gave permission with a nod of his head.

Dark eyes gleaming with delight, Severus pointed his wand at Harry’s stomach, completely unphased by the glares he was receiving. He intoned the spell clearly, watching fervently. Harry’s anger faded into shock when a glowing list of the foods he had eaten appeared; one of them listed as domesticated feline; Mrs. Norris.

“I am going to be sick!” he whispered; his face losing all its color. Clapping a hand to his mouth, he all but fell from the bed in an attempt to make it to the bathroom. He didn’t make it; losing his breakfast onto the floor before he had gone more than a few steps. The pain in his stomach as was agonizing, but the pain barely registered through the horror of learning what he had done.

Dumbledore was shocked, but not to the point he completely lost the ability to think. He grabbed Filch before the care taker could attack the teen. It was obvious to him that Harry had no memory of his actions; something the caretaker was too upset to notice. Snape was just as shocked as Dumbledore, but he noticed something the headmaster failed to catch. In the past two weeks, Potter had eaten a total of eight times, and nothing of substance. There were none of the high priced, fancy foods he had been expecting.

Until his return to Hogwarts, what little the boy had eaten had consisted of toast and a few fruits. It made as little sense as the boy eating a cat, and if there was anything Severus hated more than being proven wrong, it was being confused. Sending the still retching Harry a death glare, he turned on his heel, and stalked from the room so briskly, even his robes seemed to be billowing angrily.

Madam Pomfrey returned at that moment, took one look at what was going on, and ordered Dumbledore and Filch out. Harry had by then emptied his stomach, although he was still gagging, and she helped him back into bed. She tsked repeatedly in annoyance when upon examining him as she found the bites were bleeding again.

“I really don’t know where their heads were at!” she fumed aloud, vanishing the sick up and soiled bandages away with two swishes of her wand. “I am sorry, Mr. Potter, but I have to reapply the healing salve, and I am afraid its going to hurt quite a bit, as I need to make sure it gets down into the punctures,” she told Harry remorsefully. She worked quickly; trying to be has gentle as possible while still making sure the wounds were properly treated.

Harry hissed in pain, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. The nurse eyed him warily, worried about his lack of response.

“Are you alright?” she asked at last as she reapplied the bandages. Harry had always chatted her ear off during previous visits. Granted, he had clearly been doing so because he was nervous, but this silence wasn’t like him.

“I just found out I killed and ate a cat and I have no memory of doing so. I think that makes me as about as far away from being alright as you can get,” Harry answered quietly, but bitterly. Turning his head he looked at the nurse, green eyes worried. “It wasn’t a dog that bit me was it?” he asked, softly, anxiously.

Pomfrey looked back at him, debating what to tell him. Normally she left it up to Dumbledore to relate her findings, but seeing how the headmaster had handled their meeting, she didn’t have faith he wouldn’t bullocks it again. Pulling up a chair, she took a seat, offering him a small smile. “To be honest, I don’t know what attacked you. It has all the earmarks of a werewolf attack, but at the same time, it’s like nothing I have encountered until now.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, grateful she wasn’t going to lie to him or jerk him around with partial details. He was even more appreciative of the fact she wasn’t treating him like he was a freak.

“Well, there is the fact that it wasn’t a full moon that night, which proves that it wasn’t a werewolf. However, the bite patterns match almost exactly. They differ in the amount of damage done. Werewolves tend to tear at their prey; inflicting large amounts of tissue damage. If it were not for the fact I can find no trace of infection in your blood, I would say the attack was one made with the intention of infecting you.” The nurse paused, thinking a moment. Again, she was debating what to tell him. She really didn’t know what make of the attack.

Every werewolf attack victim that she had seen, with the exception of two, had suffered massive amounts of tissue damage. The two cases where there hadn’t been a large amount of damage, the bites had been made by someone that had only wanted to infect the person bitten.

Werewolves could only shift during the phase of the full moon, and a bite always caused an infection. It spread rapidly showing up first in the blood, and than moving to the magical core in witches and wizards.

In Harry’s case, there was nothing in his blood, but there were some changes in his magic. However, she couldn’t tell if those changes were because of the attack, or because he would soon reach his majority. Maybe it was both; she really didn’t know. Looking up from her hands, she watched Harry a moment before deciding to come completely clean; not only about what she knew to be facts, but her own hypothesis on what might be occurring.

“I won’t lie; I really do not know what is going on with you. The incident with Mrs. Norris could be a one time thing triggered by the attack at a time your magic is readying itself for your reaching your majority in a few days. Sixteen is a difficult time for any witch or wizard. It is the age at which their magic matures while their bodies have yet to reach that stage. I have seen many strange behaviors during my time here as nurse. Things ranging from a witch laying an egg every morning at the crack of dawn, to a wizard turning female at random moments, are fairly common occurrences in a school like this. You are not the first student to have temporarily developed strange and uncharacteristic behaviors.” The nurse said with a slight smile.

Harry began to relax; the calm way the nurse was explaining things did much to ease his fears. He was actually glad to be having this talk. Everyone talked about how important and stressful turning sixteen was, but no one had told him why. It went a long way to explaining some of the strange behaviors he had witnessed since going to school at Hogwarts.

“All of wizarding kind is based on a multitude of magical creatures. Most never come into a creature, because none have been introduced recently. Some just are not powerful enough magically, but the majority experience something that relates to the creature their family is based on. The witch I spoke of, had Harpy blood in her linage; she never laid another egg after her sixteenth birthday; the young wizard had Siren blood in his line; he stopped changing genders once he reached 16. This may be the case with you or it may not.”

Holding his breath, Harry waited for the other shoe to drop. Something told him there was more to come; he was sure of it. Nothing in his life was ever simple and he highly doubted he was going to start being so now.

“In your case, I am more inclined to believe the bites are to blame. Your birthday is only two days away; any signs of creature blood would have manifested a week ago at the latest. If you tell no one else, I need you to tell me if you notice anything strange about yourself. It may be something that seems like its no big deal, but it could be something more important than you think. I can not stress this enough; if you ignore something, it could mean your death. Last year in Durmstrang, a pair of siblings came into Elven inheritance. They mentioned a repulsive smell coming from their dorm, but only in passing; nothing was said to a staff member. Two days later they were dead. The smell came from the iron nails and doorknobs within the dorm. Iron is even more deadly to a high elf than silver is to a werewolf.” Pomfrey used the tell to make it clear how serious overlooking even a small detail could be and then looked at him pointedly until Harry promised to come to her if he noticed anything strange about himself.

“I am sending for another breakfast for you; one with a higher protein content. Hopefully, it will stave off any further cravings you might have. You are underweight and need to gain as much as you can within the next two days; you will also be taking a nutritive potion twice a day.” She informed him, pulling one out of her apron pocket, and handing it to him. “I am not expecting you to have any problems coming into your magic, but the better health you are in; the easier it will be on you.” Waiting until he had drank the potion, and his second breakfast of the day had arrived, she headed off to have the same conversation she had with the headmaster every year upon Harry’s return to school. She understood about the blood wards, but couldn’t grasp why it was so hard to make sure that he was being fed properly.
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Wolfen