Disclaimer: For the whole story, I don't own anything about this story except possibly my own words. I'm not making any profit off of this and never will.
Morphed Secrets- Chapter 1- Secrets Revealed
*****Harry, September 24th, 1991 First Floor Corridor*****
He was such an idiot, getting lost a month into school when everyone else knew their way around perfectly by now. It was just that- all of the corridors started to look the same to him after a while, and the staircases literally moved. Students raised in magical homes were so comfortable with the strangest things. The portraits weren't reliable guides either- Harry had tried. Some of them were deliberately unhelpful, and they all seemed to view distance and direction strangely, with their odd ability to travel between frames.
"Where are you going, Potter?" came one of Harry's least favorite voices at Hogwarts. Harry turned around quickly. It was always worse if they came up on your back. Ugh, Malfoy had his goons with him too. Harry should just run. They didn't know enough magic yet to stop him, and he could probably outrun them, at least the big two, like he did with Dudley. Harry took off running only to collapse against the wall moments later.
Was that a tickle charm? What kind of attack was that? It was effective though.
"I thought Gryffindors weren't supposed to run away from a fight," Draco Malfoy taunted. "And don't you know where you're going by now, Potter? You were just one hallway down away from the dungeons. You know what happens to Gryffindors lost in the dungeons, right?" he taunted, "We don't ever let them get out," he finished, not waiting or expecting a reply. "You think you're so smart for not showing up for our duel, don't you?"
"You didn't show up either," Harry managed to say without laughing, the tickle charm actually becoming painful with his efforts not to laugh. Harry had shown up, and just barely gotten away from getting caught by Filch. Malfoy was the prick who just set Harry up to get in trouble. And Harry couldn't afford to get into big trouble at Hogwarts.
"And you got rewarded for breaking the rules in flying class. First years are never supposed to be on the house teams. While I got detention," the blond boy tried to sneer, but it sounded like a whine.
"Well, everyone saw you flying too. I guess they didn't want to put you on your house team though," Harry muttered, frustrated with the pain building in his abdomen. But he would regret that. Talking back never made the pain stop.
"Our Head of House would never have allowed such a break in tradition. It just isn't done," Draco said defensively but haughtily at the same time. "We could have been friends, you know," the other boy said, releasing the spell at last. Malfoy's two body guards stood by almost lifelessly as the charm faded from Harry's body. He couldn't stand up yet.
Harry had been defeated by a tickle charm of all things. What good was stupid fame? It wasn't like Harry was worth anything or did anything to deserve it. Everyone at Hogwarts might as well learn how worthless he was at everything and leave him alone. Except he was rather good at flying, he tried to remember. So not hopeless at everything.
"Maybe he needs another lesson to not cross the greatest House of Slytherin again. What do you think?" the blond Slytherin turned to his pet bullies, and with that permission, they started in towards Harry.
Harry tried to scramble away, but his midsection ached from holding in the laughter from the tickle charm, and maybe he'd fallen wrong too.
Harry just blocked everything out, even the pain as he struggled to get away from the two larger boys hitting and kicking him. They didn't seem to have as much practice as Dudley, or maybe they just didn't have as much experience with Harry in particular. The two swung wildly and Harry could dodge some of it. But soon he had taken a few rib hits, a definite soon-to-be black eye. Oh, his nose again. Not broken this time, Harry didn't think, at least not yet.
"What is the meaning of this?" came a low but undeniable voice, Harry's other least favorite voice at Hogwarts. Though for just a moment, he was relieved to hear it, before Harry remembered that Snape hated him as much as Malfoy. At least the boys had stopped hitting him for a moment. But Snape would probably tell them they could keep going since it was just Harry.
Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin, had been… unsettled to come upon such a scene.
"Potter," Severus snapped, "Where are your Gryffindor lackeys?" Though Severus could not deny that 'lackeys' was a much more appropriate term for the overgrown toddlers that followed young Draco. But Potter was always with at least one of the other little idiots though, wasn't he? The latest Weasley spawn to come to Hogwarts.
Severus wouldn't admit it that it bothered him to see the large buffoons in a physical altercation with the much smaller boy.
The little Malfoy heir had been standing well back with his wand held steady- as if the child knew anything of use to do with it. There's another child that was doomed to be just like his father. Severus hadn't known for years what he was supposed to do there.
"Miss Farley," Severus snapped, spotting one of his prefects. They were only a floor above and not very far from the Slytherin common room after all. The girl really should have been able to stop the fight herself, even if it was only the Potter brat, who likely deserved it. "Escort Mr. Potter to the hospital wing. Ensure that he stays there long enough for Madame Pomfrey to see to him."
"Yes sir," the girl said, rightfully ducking her head in deference or shame, or at least pretending to grant the respect that a professor deserved. Not like the damned Boy Who Lived, Potter's brat, who stared at him, mouth hanging open. What was the boy thinking?
The older, Slytherin girl didn't glance at him once as they walked silently to the Hospital Wing. Harry considered just running back to Gryffindor Tower, but he suspected that Professor Snape wasn't someone he should disobey. Though it wasn't like the unfriendly Head of Slytherin would actually care if Harry just walked around with a painful blackened eye. The swelling would just go away soon though, Harry knew. Like all the other marks always had, no evidence left.
"Madame Pomfrey," the girl called as she opened the doors.
"Yes, dear," Madame Pomfrey replied, coming into sight. "What can I help you with?" she said, addressing the Slytherin girl after a brief smile in Harry's direction.
"Potter got himself-" the girl turned back to him, "hurt?" she finished more quietly. "He was hurt just a minute ago. He was all scratched up, bleeding a bit. His eye was swelling too," the girl offered quizzically, staring at Harry. Harry shifted on his feet. He hated being stared at. Everyone was always doing that in the magical world.
"Well, Mr. Potter, let's fix you up before bruises even have a chance to show up, now why don't we?"
The girl was still studying Harry intently. "It was going to be a badly blackened eye, Madame Pomfrey. I didn't think he was going to be able to see out of it just a few minutes ago. He must have done something," she said, but she said it in a way that seemed to indicate that Harry spontaneously healing was a bad thing. If that was what he had done already. Harry had certainly been wishing it away hard enough. It still smarted pretty badly, but Harry wasn't going to say anything that might keep him there longer. Why would people be surprised by magic here? Ron had explained about accidental magic before. That was all it was.
Madame Pomfrey frowned slightly as she ran her wand around Harry's head and bustled off, presumably to fetch some vile tasting potion. Harry wondered how soon he could leave. "Where does it hurt, dear?" she asked upon her return. The Slytherin girl had backed up several steps but hadn't left the room. Harry wished she would.
After the first few spells, Madame Pomfrey's frown grew, "Curious," she mumbled to herself, "The damage is still there, but we can't see it. Do you know why that is, dear?" she asked gently.
"I- really?" Harry asked. "I guess it still hurts a little bit," Harry admitted.
"Have you learned about any concealing spells from anyone, or from a book, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfrey said, returning to her businesslike manner.
"No-honest- I just- wanted it to be gone," Harry replied, nervous of the nurse's questions.
To Harry's surprise, the matron smiled, "It might sound like a strange question, but can I ask when was the last time you had your hair cut, Mr. Potter?"
"Aah… About two years ago my aunt cut most of it off," Harry said, startled by the question, "It grew back by the next day though. I didn't know that it was accidental magic then," Harry added feeling foolish.
"Hmm..." Madame Pomfrey nodded, still smiling. "Did you have regular haircuts before that time?"
"I don't think so," Harry replied, "My hair just doesn't grow much. It's pretty stubborn to stay just the way it is," Harry explained, feeling foolish as he did so. Normal people's hair didn't do that, did it? Was he a freak even among wizards?
"Miss Farley, thank you for bringing Harry, but I can handle it from here, dear," the kind witch dismissed the girl. Harry liked the matron more now. When the girl was gone, Madame Pomfrey asked, "Have there been times before this where bruises and cuts have disappeared but still hurt?" She was still smiling, looking excited even, so it probably wasn't anything bad.
"Um, I- maybe. From playing outside sometimes I guess. I just thought that I healed quickly, more accidental magic I guess."
"Not quite, Mr. Potter, though I dare say that you would have found healing abilities quite useful if I have already seen you here so soon- which I expect not to continue, young man," Madame Pomfrey said lightly.
"I believe, Mr. Potter, that you are a metamorphmagus. It is a rather rare ability. You would be only the second I have seen, after a young witch who graduated just last June. You remind me a bit of her when I first met the girl. She was clumsy, always getting scraped up and not wanting to come see me. But it's very exciting, really. If you have as much of a knack for the skill as I think, you can learn to change your outward appearance to a very high degree, with no more than a wish. You won't even need a wand."
Harry smiled for the first time in hours. He could learn to change what he looked like. To not be Harry Potter for a day, or maybe forever. To not have the stares, the whispers, a past that he didn't even understand. Even Dudley wouldn't know who he was. That could be a type of magic that he could really enjoy.
Harry and Ron sat, quietly talking in the squishy armchairs near the fireplace that they favoured when they could grab them. The older students more often had so much work that they preferred the chairs by the long tables. Harry had been explaining to Ron everything that Madame Pomfrey had told him, hoping that the Common Room noise would prevent too many others from listening in too closely.
"So you can change whatever you look like? Can you look like an adult? I bet we could get hold of firewhiskey if we wanted to," Ron said excitedly. "Fred and George haven't even managed that yet," Ron went on, his enthusiasm intimidating Harry a bit, though at least his friend seemed happy.
"That is not a very responsible way to use a very unique ability," a new voice broke in. Hermione Granger. Harry thought that he might privately agree that they didn't need to be trying to get firewhiskey when they were only eleven, but the girl wasn't part of the conversation, so it wasn't really her business.
And she was still talking, "I haven't read anything about metamorphmagus abilities, but if Madame Pomfrey is impressed, it must be very interesting. You're very lucky, Harry. I imagine that there are dozens of useful, productive ways to use the ability. If it is as rare as it sounds to be, you might be able to advance the research in the field with a little help. Of course, the name is enough to tell someone the basics of the ability, metamorph-magus, a shape-changing mage. I will have to see if I can find books in the library about the subject. I can tell you what I find to help you," the girl offered, finally pausing for more than a breath.
"Um, that's okay, Hermione, I'm probably going to have a special teacher to help me. Madame Pomfrey said that she thought the witch she knew would agree. She can change all sorts of things about herself, and she already graduated Hogwarts last year. So… my teacher will probably tell me what I need to do or read." Harry wasn't about to take on even more reading if he didn't have to. The first year work was quite enough on its own.
"You have to take an extra class?" Ron asked incredulously, as if he suddenly saw the down side of all this. "Wait, I know who that is. Tonks! Yeah, she was in Charlie's year. They were friends, though she wasn't in Gryffindor. I met her once or twice when I was a kid. But still, an extra class? Will you get graded and everything? On top of all our other work and your quidditch practice?"
"This is something much more important that quidditch, Ronald. Harry has a unique ability that he needs to master," the young witch commented a bit loftily.
"Quidditch is important too. It's a multi-million galleon industry, and flying that good is a rare talent too, especially without much training. Harry can get even better."
"Flying that well, is a rare talent," Hermione corrected, though Harry didn't think Ron caught the grammar correction.
"Yeah, it is, see. And nobody asked you anyway. I'm sure you'd just love to take an extra class, but no one else is like you," Ron said. Harry had to admit that the statement was true, even if it was said a bit harshly.
"I'll be in the library, Harry, if you have any questions," the girl said, stomping out of the Common Room.
Harry sat, feeling uncomfortable for a few moments. "I don't really want an extra class either, but it could be cool learning to hide my scar," Harry commented mildly.
"Hide your scar?! Really? But that's what- I mean, mate, that's one of the things that makes everyone know you're special. Why would you want to get rid of it?" Ron asked, really not seeming to understand.
"It's not something I want to be famous for," Harry insisted, speaking words that he had never said aloud even though he thought them constantly. "I don't want to be famous at all, and certainly not just because my parents died. I'd do anything-" he became quiet, "Anything to not be famous for that. If I could make that not have happened… You're the lucky one, you know, Ron. To have so much family," Harry said, quickly gathering his things and dashing up to their dorm before Ron could think of anything to say.
Ron Weasley for the first time considered Harry's point of view more closely than eleven-year-olds are supposed to have to think. Growing up was hard.
*****Harry, October 4th*****
Harry's new teacher wasn't what he expected. She had short, pink, spikey hair and thick-soled, tall boots. The boots probably didn't help her as she nearly tripped twice just walking down the empty corridor from the Great Hall towards the room they were going to practice in.
"So, what I'm thinking is starting with hair and eyes, the easy stuff, and saving bone changes for a bit. The very first day is special though, and super easy. You're lucky that I found a book on all this, and actually took the time to read it, because I just sort of figured this out on my own. The hair and the eyes were no problem for me for as long as I can remember. Had a few accidents when I started messing with bones, but nothing Madame Pomfrey couldn't fix. She taught me a lot too, about anatomy and what I shouldn't try to mess with," the older witch carried on as she conjured two big squishy chairs close together and facing one another. "But like I said, the first day is special. Do you want to guess what we'll do?
"Ah- study books?" Harry guessed, not sure what a first step would be for something that he had no idea how to accomplish any part of, except that he had apparently already been doing it. Harry sat in the chair left for him after Tonks took her seat.
The witch actually laughed, "No, no. The whole point of having me is that you get to skip a lot of the book stuff, at least from the way I see it."
"Well, I don't know then," Harry admitted. How on earth was he supposed to know anything about magic, growing up with the Dursleys, much less about a magic that not even Hermione Granger had heard of?
"We're going to find your base form, what you look like without the unconscious changes you've been making," Tonks explained.
Harry was startled by the idea, "I could be changing myself without even realizing it, you mean?" Harry asked. Well- he had been, but she made it sound like there was more than just hiding some bruises.
"Well, I think we've proved that you have been, what with the lack of haircuts. Your hair's probably supposed to be down to your arse," she teased him. "But it could be more than that- nothing drastic I mean, not without realizing it, I'm sure. People would tell you if you'd always looked one way and then changed into another. Maybe you'll even grow," the older witch offered lightly. Harry knew he was a little small for his age… maybe he was doing that to himself to try to not try to stick out. But he didn't want to be tall like Ron.
"Though that wouldn't really matter, because you can always just make yourself taller all the time like I do," Tonks supplied with a wink, like they shared a secret. "Oh, wait, first," she said, suddenly grabbing Harry's hands before he could pull them away and waving her wand over them, muttering something. She repeated the actions pointing at Harry's feet. Harry was alarmed at first but held still. "For your fingernails and toenails, just in case," she explained. "They can be a bit gross, and you might not like the shock. I didn't bother trimming mine for a year or two before I found this spell, and it was a bad sight when I went back to base form. Gross."
Harry was rather repulsed by the thought, but thanked Tonks all the same. "So, how do I do this?" Harry asked timidly.
"Did Poppy warn you to wear loose clothes just in case? You don't want anything that isn't loose, just in case you grow."
"I've got some big clothes from my cousin," Harry supplied, as he took off his school robe, not mentioning that Madame Pomfrey hadn't said anything about it. It didn't matter because all of Harry's clothes were big on him anyway. No clothing in the Dursley household had ever been bought with a child Harry's size in mind.
"Perfect," the smiling witch supplied as her own robe was thrown carelessly onto the floor, leaving what must have been pajamas. "Big or stretchy clothes are perfect," she said as she hopped around pulling off her large boots, actually startling Harry by falling onto her backside wrenching the shoe off. The strange witch was only momentarily daunted by the fall. From her place on the ground grabbed some fuzzy slippers out of her bag that had been previously slung onto the floor as well. "I have big feet naturally," she explained. "I don't actually have shoes that fit my base form feet."
Harry nodded mutely, wondering if the older witch would fall over as much if she kept her big feet and didn't make herself taller. He made a mental note to not do the same. He didn't mind being short. When he looked up at the woman's face again, she was talking to him.
"Give me your hands again, Harry. The books recommended this way. I won't bite, I promise," she teased.
With only minimal hesitation and blushing, Harry held out his hands to be grasped by the older witch.
"Now, try to feel the magic when I change back to my base form. It's different than changing other times. Though I guess you haven't felt that yet. I learned everything all out of order because I messed with things before I could read, and there wasn't anyone around to teach me, but we're going to try to do this the right way for you. I wonder sometimes if there are a ton of people like us that just never try to change their appearance. Poppy did well to spot you, probably because she would see me so often when I was still here. Ready?" Tonks jumped back to their lesson at hand.
Harry did feel the weirdest twinge of magic as Tonks changed. It was a relaxing, easy feeling. When Harry looked up at her, her face was mostly the same, but her hair was brown now, and fell almost halfway down her torso. She didn't tower over him as much now either. "I haven't cut my hair in a while, I suppose," she laughed, releasing Harry's hands and toying with her own hair for a moment. "Did you notice the feeling?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Relaxing, I guess. It felt… right." Tonks was already back to pink short hair when Harry looked back up at her.
"Okay, once more, and then you try at the same time, okay? Try to notice as many details as you can," she advised as she grabbed his hands again to repeat the process. "It's the same kind of magic that's in you, so it should feel familiar."
This time Harry did notice more, the way the magic moved, settling from her head down, lengthening her hair, changing her- torso, legs shorter, feet bigger. All back to normal. It did feel right.
"Yeah, I think I can do that now," Harry said with a growing confidence that he didn't feel about much in the magical world, or the world in general, except for with flying.
"Alright, let's go," Tonks said, grabbing his hands again, looking the way he first met her. "Close your eyes. It might help. Remember to not get caught up thinking about the way you look now."
Harry opened his eyes knowing that he did everything right. Even if it hadn't been for the hair that he could feel getting in his face and a piece trapped under his collar down his back, Harry knew that this was the way he was supposed to look.
Harry felt his new teacher tense up before dropping his hands before Harry even pulled away. "You did great Harry, great. But uh, don't move until I get back, alright? I'll be right back. You did great, really great."
What the hell was she going to do? Should she tell him? She had to, right? She was thinking as her feet quickly led her down to the dungeon. This was way over her head. Merlin, it was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. And he seemed like such a sweet kid. This was going to be a nightmare, and she was barely even involved. She picked up her feet, kicked off her slippers, and grabbed them in her hands instead, and ran as well as she could without falling down multiple staircases. She only stumbled a little twice over invisible obstacles.
Ungrateful idiots, with script completely illegible even as second years. Did they never pick up a quill when not forced? Would he ever get to leave his office? He could always put it off until the next day, but that wasn't his way of doing work. It wasn't as if he could sleep this early anyway.
Hurried sounds in the hallway had Severus on his feet wand in hand before the door was touched. Who- what- he saw bursting through the door nearly prompted spells firing. Bellatrix? No- still in Azkaban, and this woman was much too young, probably not even as old as Bellatrix had been when she was captured. But she wasn't a student. The young woman looked at him too familiarly with too much relief at finding him. People were never so happy to find him.
Severus took a step back and raised his wand more threateningly. It wasn't wise to harm an unarmed young woman in a school, even an unfamiliar one. She did seem distressed, not a likely threat. She was definitely unarmed, no room for a concealed wand in the tight little- shirt, if it could be called that- with little nothings of straps, shamefully revealing for a grown witch, and loose shorts that didn't come halfway to her knees. There was her wand, tucked behind an ear caught half-hidden in a loose mass of brown hair.
"Professor," she sighed, "You have to come with me. I can't- I don't know what to do-"
"And you are?" he questioned cautiously. "Miss Tonks," he concluded, piecing it together. Andromeda Black's daughter… looking so much like her mother. Severus remembered hearing that the witch would be visiting. A danger to all those around her of course. But she was here to- train Potter.
"Yes," she huffed. "Now hurry, I told him not to leave, but you never know." Severus was barely restrained enough to not hex the witch as she took the extreme liberty of grabbing his non-wand hand and pulling him around his desk towards the door.
"Miss Tonks, you will explain yourself," Severus snapped, though he strangely didn't resist the movement of the frantic young woman as she led him through the hallway. He even steadied her once when the witch was about to go head first into the ground. He should have just let her fall.
"It's hard to explain," she almost whined, "Harry- Harry Potter. You might have heard that I have started working with him because he's a metamorphmagus."
Of course Severus knew of this latest development. He cringed knowing that it would be that much easier for the boy to cause untold amounts of trouble in the castle. Clearly an even firmer hand would be needed to deal with the child.
"Yes, how lucky he is to be so- gifted," Severus drawled. But against his better judgment Severus began to worry that the brat might have gotten himself in trouble again. It was too soon for another trip to the hospital wing for such a small child. Snape walked slightly faster. "Is Potter in one piece?" he sneered.
"Yes, but he um… looks- different," Tonks- Miss Tonks- managed as they neared the proper classroom. It was on the first floor and not terribly far away, not far at all from where he had seen Potter having the crap beat out of him just days ago, Severus recalled uncomfortably. Why had the witch left the child alone? Even if the boy had miraculously not come to harm under her purview, there was no guarantee that he hadn't after she abandoned her post. The child was trouble incarnate.
Severus finally snatched his hand away. "And that is my concern why? If the boy needs medical attention, Madame Pomfrey is far more suited." The young witch was pathetically pleading, so he sighed and allowed himself to be half dragged into the room that Potter would be in.
"Is what I'm thinking possible?" Miss Tonks asked delicately.
When Severus looked around, he wasn't sure if he would breathe again. The boy sat on a chair off to one side of the room, looking down at his feet that didn't quite touch the floor. Until seeing the bright green eyes, he would have sworn that he was looking at a picture. The hair, the forehead, the eyebrows, cheekbone structure, even the nose. The nose bothered Severus most, evidence of a previously broken nose, healed incorrectly years ago, seemingly inherited in the Snape family through the chain of terrible fathers that delivered those breakings to their sons.
"It's not- possible," Snape managed, not taking his eyes off the boy.
"But, I'm guessing that really means yes," the witch pushed before taking a step backwards after his glare.
"Highly unlikely. Much more likely to be a prank by a troublesome student and his teacher who should be old enough to know better, Miss Tonks," Snape said, fuming at the witch, hoping his voice didn't sound frantic. It couldn't be possible. Yes, the timing would almost fit… Yes, the timing would most definitely fit; he would only be lying only to himself if he didn't admit that he had counted the months and days… Halloween wasn't exactly a difficult date to keep track of… but that didn't mean anything. Human gestation tracking wasn't that- precise. It couldn't be possible. Severus had- investigated enough, as difficult as that had been. The boy had looked just like Potter, even as a baby. Just like Potter.
"Don't scare him, Severus," Tonks- Miss Tonks- said gently, grabbing his arm again. For some reason, Severus didn't shake her away yet. "I know you must be hurting. This must be a shock. I didn't know what else to do. I swear on my life as a witch that this is not a joke, Severus- I mean, Professor Snape."
"What's going on?" the smallest voice said, sounding afraid. But the child wasn't actually deaf or stupid. The boy was looking from his metamorphmagus teacher to his potions professor and touching his own now very different nose.
"I don't want to startle you, Harry," Tonks said, stepping away from Severus's side. "I'm going to conjure a mirror. You look great though, Harry. Really cute. You still have your beautiful eyes. You'll be a handsome man one day, you know. Being chased by half the girls in the school, I'd bet," Tonks said soothingly, to distract the boy with babble if anything.
The child stared at his reflection only for a few moments before he nodded. The boy already knew. "Is it true, sir?"
"Mr. Po-" Severus tried. What was he doing? "Young man, it is nearly curfew. You will spend a night in the hospital wing before settling matters in more detail in the morning. Do you understand?"
It was a coward's stalling tactic, nothing more. Even the boy would probably see through it, though he might be just as eager as Severus was for the reprieve. There was nearly an hour before curfew still, and he needed to talk to the boy. Severus just had no earthly idea what to say, so he would rather avoid it. It- didn't seem possible. And even in less strained circumstances, how does one tell an eleven-year-old about sleeping with his mother when she was seeing another man?
How had Severus not known that the child was his all these years? It- almost fit, what with that rushed marriage with Potter she got herself into. But the baby looked like Potter, just like him. And Severus knew that she had been sleeping with Potter. It wasn't like she had been a virgin that night. What were the chances that their one time…?
"Miss Tonks, would you escort Mister Potter to the hospital wing?" Severus continued, trying to maintain his façade. Trying to breathe. "I am sure you remember the way," he said with a light sneer.
Tonks frowned at him, as if trying to guilt him into saying more. It wouldn't work.
"It is possible-" Severus admitted stiffly, not sure how to address the boy, not wanting to say the name 'Potter' that kept flooding his mind, so he just cut his sentence off. "However, I am requesting the evening to sort through matters. You will be fine until then in the hospital wing. Miss Tonks?"
Tonks nodded at him, perhaps almost satisfied before turning and smiling at Harry, "Come on, Harry, I'm sure you could use some nice quiet rest. Madame Pomfrey never asks too many questions unless she has to, and she won't today," Tonks promised.
The child looked quite overwhelmed, mostly staring at Severus and then quickly at the ground. Merlin, the brat must be disgusted. Severus was actually surprised that he hadn't seen hatred in the child's face.
Where was the rage, the revulsion that the greasy git had once had sex with the boy's mother? With Lily. Or- did first years know anything about reproduction? Severus could hardly remember being so young himself, and though he was a Head of House, none of his students would ask him about such things, particularly the smaller ones who were still terrified of him. Severus could only really read confusion in the child's face, but he did not often try to pay much notice to the emotions of children.
How could she not have told him?To not tell anyone? Severus only vaguely noticed as Tonks picked up the boy's robe and ushered him out the door. Severus was too lost in his own thoughts of very nearly twelve years before, and all of their lives before that point.
A/N: I really hope you like my story so far. I love and hope for feedback. For the most part, I'm going to be seeing how canon would be different with these changes and watching events snowball from there, including logical personality changes over time.
Ever since we first met Tonks, I was fascinated with the idea that Harry could be a metamorphmagus because of the hair-regrowing incident, and I have never seen a Severitus story with this premise. I hope it is enjoyable!