A/N: This chapter is dedicated to anna, whose review inspired me to go back, take a look at this story, and pick it up again.

Chapter Six: "Breakfast at Grimmauld Place"

Harry had remained asleep for four days. When she awoke, it was with a soft purr and a flex of her expansive wings. She felt rested, and for a moment kept her eyes closed and took in the room around her.

She noticed that, even without sight, she had a sense of everything that was in the room; she felt the cool air coming from under the door opposite the bed, felt as it shifted and wrapped itself around the objects in the room. She could hear the sounds of voices… they were two floors below her, in the kitchen. Moony and Molly… they were just out of range for her to make out the words in the conversation. She was aware of the water running through the pipes in the wall, and the quiet scraping of the pixies that fought to reclaim the library curtains. She felt every shift and compression of the muscles in her body, hyperaware of every movement, of every touch…She breathed in deeply and took in the smell of her family, the underlying scents of must and decay of the old house, and of Mrs. Weasley's famous sweet rolls.

Silently, gracefully, she got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. After relieving her bladder – it was still the strangest thing to have to sit on the toilet – Harry took a moment to stand before the mirror and inspect this new body.

"I'm stuck like this," he said to the mirror. "No changing it. I will not be uncomfortable with my own bloody body."

"That's the spirit, dear," said the mirror sleepily.

Determined, Harry pulled off the large nightshirt and really looked at himself. He had on the pair of boxers that he had put on when he left the Dursley's, but that was it. He took a hand and tentatively touched one of the breasts now attached to his front. It was… soft, but heavy at the same time; he was not small by any means – they were definitely bigger than Hermione's – but his chest was not overly large either.

On the underside of each breast, Harry could see what looked like leopard spots, except that they were emerald green, the same color as his eyes; the spots cupped each breast, narrowly near his sternum, and then widening as they moved outward and finally a thick band that ran under his arms to his back. Turning around, Harry could see that the spots met in the center of his back, between the wings, and then trailed downwards below the line of his boxers.

Facing front ways again, Harry noted that his skin seemed paler than before – more like ivory than the washed-out appearance of someone who hadn't seen the sun in a while – and with fewer imperfections. He knew from earlier inspection that he was completely hairless except for his eyebrows and the thick mop atop his head.

There were other markings on his body as well – around each ankle, black swirling lines; on the underside of each wrist, the runic symbols for water in brilliant sky blue; and on the inside of each thigh, a narrow line of more spots, delicate like freckles, in a vibrant red. He wasn't sure what they meant, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that the green represented him, and the other colors belonged to separate people. But who? And why? Harry sighed at the mounting number of unanswered questions.

"Harry, dear? Are you awake?" came Mrs. Weasley's voice from the hall. Quickly replacing his nightshirt, Harry opened the bathroom door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley." Mrs. Weasley turned around with a smile on her face; she finished cleaning her hands on her apron and held them out.

"Nice to see you about, love," she said, embracing Harry in a quick, motherly hug. "You're looking much better – how do you feel?"

"It's still, strange," Harry mumbled, pulling at a spare thread on his cuff. "But, I am just going to have to get used to it, I guess." Mrs. Weasley smiled sadly.

"That's a good attitude, Harry. And you know, I'm here for you, if you need another woman to ask questions to. I have always wanted another girl to take care of." Harry blushed furiously, but felt grateful that he had someone to talk to. "Now then, let's get down to the kitchen before the others."

"Others?"

"Well, Remus and Albus, of course. And I believe Nymphadora is coming today as well."

"Tonks?" Harry asked confused as they descended the staircase. "Not that I don't want to see her," he added quickly.

"She's something of an expert in Magical Creatures," Mrs. Weasley explained. "Had to learn all about them during Auror training, as she's the only one at the ministry who can make herself look like one. She's gone with Remus a number of times to visit the werewolf packs for the Order – when its not time for the full moon, having golden eyes can convince most of them that she's not an outsider." That made a lot of sense, Harry thought.

"So she might be able to tell me more about… me?"

"That's the hope, dear. And that she might help us find the other Incubi in Britain. Now, help me set the table."

They had arrived at the kitchen. The wonderful smells of fresh bread and hot tea filled the room; steam was issuing from a pot on the stove, and a mixing bowl was pouring beaten eggs into a hot pan. It wasn't long after Harry set the plates out, and Mrs. Weasley had put breakfast on the table, that Remus made his way into the kitchen. He had walked in with a stack of books, which he promptly set at the table before helping himself to tea.

"Any luck, Remus?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I've pulled everything I could find on Incubi from the library shelves," he replied. Remus took a moment to savor his tea before continuing. "Now we'll just have to work our way through them."

"There's more there than I thought there would be, at least," Mrs. Weasley said, setting eggs before him.

"Incubi and Succubi were something of an obsession for one of the Blacks, it seems," Remus replied musingly. "Of course, they were once highly prized as pets. Any pureblood would have been honored to have one."

"Pets?" Harry exclaimed, dropping his mug and spilling tea all over the table. The werewolf had the grace to look apologetic, at least.

"It's just a fact, Harry. I'm trying to present the information as a pureblood would see it. Werewolves were once forced to fight battles for wizards. They were kept in prisons, starved, until they were half-mad, and then at the full moon sent out to be murders."

"Remus, that's horrible!"

"But true, Harry, horribly true."

"Thank Merlin those times are long past," Mrs. Weasley said firmly, pouring herself some tea."

"We're not entirely out the fire yet, Molly," Remus said. "It will be a long while yet before werewolf rights are fully addressed."

"What about Incubi?"

Remus gave Harry a hard, sad look, and sighed.

"The truth, cub, is that there have been no changes to the laws concerning your kind. They are protected as magical creatures, but nothing protects them from being sold into slavery."

"That's awful!"

"Yes, Harry, which is why we are going to have to work very hard to find the others that are here in England. Only they will really be able to teach you how to control and hide your powers. That is the only way that we will be able to keep you safe."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"Do you think there are many more… like me?" he asked quietly.

"There has to be at least one, Harry. Your mother lived all those years with Incubus blood in her veins and none of us ever knew. There could be hundreds more, and we just don't know about them."

For the second time in his entire life, Harry felt a spark of hope that perhaps he was finally going where he belonged. He wasn't the only Incubus in England, or the world for that matter. He wondered if the other(s) would like him…

Brilliant green flames ignited in the fireplace, and a whooshing sound preceded the appearance of the Headmaster. He was dressed in acid green today, with frogs that danced around the hem of his robe. A second whoosh, and then Nymphadora Tonks fell out of the floo, landing on her rear. Her hair went red and spiky for a moment, while she stood and shook the soot out of her robes.

"Stupid, ruddy floo! Worst thing every invented by wizards…" She finally seemed satisfied with her robes, and looked up, beaming, hair now a soft lavender shade.

"Morning, all!"

She took a seat at the table next to Remus. He flushed, barely, and Harry shot him a curious look.

"You make a pretty girl, mate," she said to Harry, taking the pot of tea from MRs. Weasley and pouring some for herself. "And I like the wings."

"Erm… Thanks, I guess."

"How are you today, my dear?" Dumbledore asked, taking the seat at the head of the table. Mrs. Weasley got up and put plates together for the new arrivals.

"I'm fine, Headmaster," Harry replied. "I don't feel as…"

"Shocked?" Dumbledore supplied, smiling in thanks as put breakfast before him.

"Yes."

"Excellent, excellent. You are handling this situation remarkably well, my child." Harry flushed, pleased with himself. "And today, we shall set out to discover as much as we can about Incubi. So, let's all tuck in to this marvelous breakfast and then, to the library."

A/N: I will probably not be updating this as often as LutD because this story is not as well developed. If you want more updates and faster, please review!