Angels and Devils CH1

BEGIN SPORK

 

Harry sat up away from the back of the sofa and stretched, but it did no good, the ache that felt as if it was coming from under and between his shoulder blades failed to go away.

Elbe: I thought “under” and “between” were mutually exclusive?

Richard: You are more naïve than I thought to expect logic in a spork-worthy story.

 At first he had thought that maybe he had pulled something in Quidditch practice, but usually aches and pains just went away.

Elbe: How do you pull muscles in Quidditch practice, especially in your back? Aren’t you just holding onto a broom?

Richard: Again, you are naïve…

Roy: I suppose Quidditch-toned muscles will make an appearance in this story? Humans…

Richard: YOU ARE THREE-QUARTERS HUMAN, whether you like it or NOT, Roy. Damn Gary-Stu arrogance!

 A trip to the hospital wing had crossed his mind after a couple of days, but Harry didn't like to bother people with minor things.

Roy: Hello, I’m the tour guide for the Trip to the Hospital Wing. As you can see, this territory, colloquially known as Harry’s mind, is quite vacant.

Elbe: *giggle* I do love you, Roy.

Richard: *irritated*

 If growing up with the Dursleys had taught him anything it was to be self-sufficient, and a minor back pain did not warrant any fuss.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked from where he was currently trouncing Neville at chess.

Roy: Could it be? A glimpse of canon abilities?

Richard: No, wait, there’s Neville-bashing. Forget it.

 

"Back ache," Harry replied and climbed to his feet to see if that would help at all.

"Still?" his friend said with a small frown and turned to face him fully.

Ron had noticed his discomfort the previous day and Harry had put him off with something about wrenching his shoulder while flying.

Elbe: Wait, how does one wrench one’s shoulder while flying? The only Quidditch injuries are from collisions, either with another player, a Bludger, or the ground.

Roy: Somehow, I think we may be seeing a good deal of Quidditch-toned muscles.

 

 From the expression on his friend's face now though, Harry doubted that he was going to get away with the same this time. All he really wanted was for the annoying ache to go away. Being a wizard he thought that he really should be able to cope with a simple pain, but so far the muscle relaxant potion he had made in detention the previous week was not working.

Richard: All I really want is for the annoying story to go away, but is that going to happen? As I am a Dark Mage, I think that I really should be able to cope with a simple badfic, but so far the eye relaxant potion that I made in my spare time the previous week is not working.

Roy: Why have the commas disappeared? And why has most of the grammar deserted to follow the commas?

Elbe: And forgive me if this is canon, but why is it that any potion made in detention is helpful to the student? I would think Snape would tell them to make horribly inappropriate things – I don’t mean that in the obscene way!

Richard: You mean, as in telling a hemophiliac to make an anti-clotting potion? Hmm, if any hemophiliac-Sues turn up at Hogwarts, I have to give him that tip.

 

{snip, the ache turns into a sharp pain and he starts bleeding from his back}

Ron and Hermione had both insisted on accompanying him to the hospital wing and it had only been both of their firm stances on the matter that had stopped half the seventh year from following them as well. Ever since the end of the war they had been a very tight-knit group and they were protective, especially when it came to Harry. The fact that he had survived at all was something of a miracle and his housemates took looking after him very seriously. The fact that he had been in a coma for two months after his victory over Voldemort and the whole year in his house had visited him in rotation the entire time seemed to have made him central to their lives. It had been over six months ago and Harry was as back to normal as he ever had been, but Gryffindor house did not seem to see it that way.

Richard: I don’t think the author intended to make it sound like all of Gryffindor turned into mother hens. And I ESPECIALLY don’t think she intended the image of all of the Gryffindors dressed in hen costumes and desperately waddling after Harry.

Elbe: Shouldn’t Hufflepuff be the house that would act so loyal? Gryffindors are friendly, but not this obsessive about their friends.

Roy: Wait, Voldemort was defeated? When did that happen? I wanted to see Harry defeating the Dark Lord with his powers in an apocalyptic duel, where his determination and belief in his ideals gave him the victory –

Richard: Shut up, you sappy fool. Hasn’t it occurred to you that ‘determination’ and ‘belief in ideals’ are exactly what Voldemort has? Admittedly, his ideals include “exterminate all Muggles and Mudbloods”, but the point is that all these supposedly ‘heroic’ traits can be evil. After all, it takes an amazing amount of determination to come back year after year when he (or his henchman, or his diary-form) keeps getting defeated by Harry.

The moment they had entered the hospital wing Poppy had sat him on one of the beds and lifted the back of his black t-shirt to take a quick look. That was where things had become a little stranger. Poppy had muttered something to herself, sent Hermione and Ron off with platitudes, and then pulled screens round the bed.

Elbe: I think her name is “Madame Pomfrey”, not “Poppy”…

"Please remove you top and lie face down on the bed, Harry," the woman said in a fair impression of her normal calm tone, but missing it just slightly.

Harry had spent months recovering under Poppy's care after he had defeated Voldemort and he knew her very well. That was why when there was no one else around he always called her 'Poppy' and she always called him 'Harry'. It was also why he knew something was not right. He had come to know the healer very well over the weeks he had been bed ridden after the coma, and the summer holiday where he had stayed at school to catch up with all the work he had missed while unconscious, and his instincts told him something was bothering her as she busied about doing her job.

Roy: Yet another info dump. Really, would it have been so hard for the author to write out all that happened in a prologue? Just glimpses and accounts from the characters would have made things far less… annoying. As is, it sounds like Harry/Pomfrey foreshadowing.

Richard: It’s a slash fic, in case you didn’t realize it. As far as I know, so are most creature-Harry stories.

Roy: Why can’t he be bisexual and have accepting partners?

Richard: -_-;;

Lying down on his front with his arms under his head he was very nervous about what Poppy had found, but he had not yet worked up the courage to ask. He found that the position was actually far more comfortable than any he had used as of yet and it eased the ache somewhat, which was at least a relief.

 

"The bleeding is superficial," Poppy said efficiently and he felt her gentle touch on his back, "but it is messy. I shall clean the wounds first, it may sting a little."

 

Before Harry could ask the obvious question of 'What wounds?' the healer moved away to retrieve her supplies and almost as soon as she returned something cold and painful touched the skin between his shoulder blades. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow as whatever Poppy was using did, as suggested, sting like buggery.

Roy: BAD IMAGE BAD IMAGE BAD IMAGE – Doesn’t the author, being a slash fic author and all, realize that buggery is the British word for sodomy? So, the pain is equivalent to having an object shoved up where the sun doesn’t shine? That gives me an image of – of –

Richard: Back-sex? My, Harry must have massive, protruding shoulder blades. But really, can we not think about it?

Elbe: That image is worse than Celebrian! At least the things there WERE TECHNICALLY PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE!

 It took about thirty seconds for the needle like sensations his nerves were sending him to slowly ebb away into blissful numbness and Harry slowly relaxed. The healer's touch was gentle and as she cleaned the injury and the rest of his back he was lulled into a thoughtless daze.

Elbe: …On the bright side, whatever she was using was apparently pretty small with respect to width. But does anyone think the terminology – “thoughtless daze”, “blissful numbness”, and so on – sounds too much like a sex scene?

Roy: Sadly, those phrases sound better than most phrases used in sex scenes…

Only when the swabs were replaced by the slight pressure of fingers did Harry remember his burning question.

Elbe: I thought you were supposed to ‘prep’ BEFOREHAND?

Richard: Let us all stop thinking about unintentional innuendo, before we make ourselves sick.

"What is it, Poppy?" he asked as the healer efficiently probed his back. "Why was I bleeding?"

Roy: PROBING. BLEEDING. I’m sorry, Elberta and Richard, but I cannot stop thinking about the innuendo when it’s so obvious. And I really think the author should have written ‘backside’ instead of ‘back’.

There was worrying silence from the school nurse for a few moments and Harry swiveled his head to try and look at the woman. Poppy was staring at his back seriously and he did not like the expression on her face. He really didn't like it when she stood back, noticed he was looking at her and gave him a forced smile.

Richard: Has the author heard of the Oxford comma?

"Nothing to worry about, Harry," she said in a far too cheerful voice. "I'll be back in a few minutes: there is just something I need to check from your medical records. You lie still and relax."

Richard: SEMICOLON, not colon. Why do badfic authors have a colon fetish?

Roy: Because they’re writing slash, of course.

Richard: What are you trying to – By the unholy worship of Yog-Sothoth, that’s SICK!

And with that Poppy pulled the blanket from the end of the bed up over him, turned, and left him in his isolated little world inside the screens. For about ten seconds Harry tried to peer over his own shoulder and see what had caused the healer such discomfort, but of course it was futile, and it hurt. Eventually he collapsed back onto the bed and stared at the headboard wondering what on earth he had managed to do this time.

Elbe: Screens? Why was he trapped inside the screens? The way the author puts it, it seems like he’s an autistic child showing on all the security-monitor screens of a hokey secret lair. And how is he staring at the headboard while lying on the bed? Does he have eyes on the top or back of his head, since logically his head should be lying AGAINST the headboard?

Richard: Elbe, I’m getting extremely tired of telling you that you’re naïve to expect logic from Suethors.

After the defeat of Voldemort Harry had hoped his days of lying in the infirmary were over, but obviously he had been wishing for the impossible.

Richard: After the defeat of Voldemort COMMA Harry had blah-blah-blah! GRAMMAR! It’s GOOD for you!

Roy: Richard, it’s naïve to expect grammar from the Suethors.

Elbe: You’re a wonderful brother, Roy.

Richard: *mutters to self*

 Whatever potion Poppy had used on his back had eased the discomfort and he managed to stay alert for five minutes waiting for her to return before the relief let his mind drift. It had been three days since the ache had started and at least Harry could enjoy the fact that it was gone for a while.

Roy: The innuendo starts again… is there something wrong with my mind that I automatically inserted “as lube” after “used on his back”?

Richard: MUST you use the word ‘inserted’?

Roy: More to the point, Richard, if you view this through the lens of unintentional innuendo, you have to wonder about “THREE DAYS?! He was aching for three days? That’s one hard ‘Quidditch session’”.

He was not sure how long he was alone, but he snapped back to reality when he heard the familiar tones of Professor Dumbledore and Poppy. They were talking quietly and their voices were very low, but if he strained hard he could just make out some of their conversation.

"And there is no doubt, Poppy," the headmaster was saying calmly, "this is not someone's idea of a joke."

"No," Madame Pomfrey replied in kind, "I checked for hexes and potions: this is a natural phenomenon."

Richard: (Dumbledore) Then we do have a fanbrat infestation… dear. Perhaps we should join forces with Voldemort; when we have infestations, usually the Death Eaters do as well. 

"With no signs of complications," Dumbledore sounded as if he was confirming something the healer had already told him.

"They look perfectly healthy," the woman told the old wizard firmly. "The poor dear must have been in pain for days. I sometimes wonder what that boy's been though when something like this didn't bring him running the moment it started."

Richard: Oh, for the unholy worship of Yog-Sothoth. This CAN’T be another Physically-Abusive-Dursleys fic.

Elbe: Actually, I thought that was just referencing all the pain he HAS been through: A Cruciatus Curse from Lord Voldemort, his scar erupting in pain whenever Voldemort came near, the trauma of losing people to Voldemort, including his parents…

Richard: Again, I’m REALLY sick of telling you that you have to be naïve to believe that a Suethor is that mature.

 

Their voices dropped much lower suddenly and Harry could not hear what they were saying. He was intrigued and a little worried, but it didn't sound as if he was about to die or anything like that, which put pay to his worst fears.

"Ah well," the headmaster's voice rose again, "I suppose we should give Harry the news. I do wish it was not always him."

Richard: (Pomfrey) Yes, it’s tragic how he always has to be the one who discovers his secret bloodline, and becomes a part-non-canon-race so that he’s forced to find an invariably male ‘soul mate’. At least young Malfoy is only forced to become a Veela, though for a pureblood like him that’s equally bad.
 

Poppy made an agreeing noise and then Harry could hear the sound of footsteps. He swiveled slightly as the screens rustled and his eyes met those of Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Harry," the headmaster greeted warmly, "I do hope you are not feeling too dreadful."

 

"Whatever Madame Pomfrey put on my back has helped a lot thank you, Professor," he replied while trying to gage Dumbledore's mood. "What's happening to me?"

Elbe: It’s ‘GAUGE’! And whatever happened to the punctuation? Why does this author despise commas?

 

Harry did not want to play games and he did not want anyone trying to break it to him gently; he just wanted to know. Dumbledore looked at him calmly for a few seconds and then the headmaster nodded.

"It is quite straightforward, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "you are growing wings."

{Massive snip, some of it is included in the special powers section. I’ll summarize:

Harry: OMG WTF BBQ?! HUH?

Dumbledore: (basically, what was included in the special powers section)

Harry: GET THEM OFF!

Dumbledore: Blah, blah, they’re “part of your physical being now. To remove them would seriously damage you.”

Harry: DAMN! OK…}

 

Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room feeling sore and a little depressed, although nowhere near as bad as he had felt the previous evening.

Roy: Excuse me, was a sex scene skipped? Did Harry have healing sex with Dumbledore and/or Madame Pomfrey, possibly both at once?

Elbe: Big brother, this is Harry/Draco. Of course there wasn’t heterosexual sex. We’ll be lucky to have ANY heterosexual relationships in a slash fic.

Roy: But…

Richard: Just be quiet and get on with the fic!

 The wounds through which his wing nubs had grown had healed with unnatural speed and although still somewhat raw, did not send shooting pains down his back every time he moved anymore. Poppy had helpfully held up a mirror behind him so he could examine what his back now looked like and it had not looked as bad as he had feared. The wing nubs were in fact two iridescent ridges about an inch wide that ran just below each shoulder blade for four or five times their width. If he had not been told what they were, he never would have guessed.

Richard: Yeah, you would have just thought they were Sparklypoo STD sores from the last ten Sues that climbed in bed with you. HARRY IS MALE AND A FREAKING SPARKLYPOO! That’s… just…

Elbe: Interesting, actually. She’s bending gender barriers with this story, even unintentionally.

Richard: Oh, when it comes to the sex… I’m sure the feminization will be intentional. At least now, I have the image of Harry dancing in a rain of flowers and sparkles while his multicolored fairy wings flutter behind him. Oh WONDERFUL. Now I have a soundtrack of Harry Potter singing “Stop, in the Name of Love” to Malfoy. Thank you for spraining my brain!

Elbe: Um… you’re welcome?

 

{snip babbling about how Harry’s been released, and he’s wearing jeans and a “regulation hospital wing pajama shirt”}

 

He had a pot of ointment in one hand, his ruined t-shirt in the other and only one thing on his mind: fall into his nice comfy bed and sleep the day away.

Richard: Yes, I KNOW the pot of ointment is anesthetic, but that could be taken in an obscene way.

Roy: Many things can be taken in an obscene way, when you put your mind to it.

He made it as far as falling on his face on his mattress before the plan crumbled.

"Harry's back," it was Neville's voice and his dorm mate sounded excitedly pleased.

There were sleepy replies from around the room and Harry groaned as he heard more than one person slip out of bed.

Richard: *gapes* THAT SOUNDS SO WRONG!

Roy: We have filthy minds. But it does sound like a Harry-centric orgy is about to take place.

 

 When the curtain beside his head moved to let in the early morning sunlight he slammed a hand over his eyes and considered burying his head under his pillow.

 

"Go away," he said petulantly, "I'm trying to sleep."

 

"Wow, you look rough, Mate," Ron's uncooperative voice said from close by.

 

"Too right," Seamus agreed loudly.

Knowing a losing battle when he heard it Harry slowly opened his eyes and peered at his friends. After a quick inspection he realized that his dorm mates were gathered on either side of his bed. He would have turned over so he could see them better, but he didn't feel like sitting up, and lying on his back was not happening at the moment.

Elbe: Oh-a-oh/ I met your children/ What did you tell them/ Oh-a-oh/ Badfic killed the grammar teacher/ badfic killed the grammar teacher

Roy: Seconded. And I still take this as innuendo. I mean, his all-male dorm mates are clustered around his bed as he lies on his front…

"Funny that," Harry said sarcastically and put his head back down on the bed, "might have something to do with the whole half hour's sleep I got last night."

"Very rough," was Dean's helpful input into the conversation.

Richard: (Harry) How did you know? I certainly never expected him to be so vigorous. I mean… SNAPE? How’d he get such thrusting power?!

Roy: (Snape) The answer, Potter, is that I took some of Dumbledore’s ‘virility potion’ with me after his *ahem* tragic heart attack and ran off with Lupin and his inner werewolf with a foot fetish.

Elbe: A Snape/Harry and Subjugation reference, all within two comments? What was the line? “Disgusting/ I feel sick”?

As Ron shifted beside the bed, a shaft of sunlight that had previously been obscured by his friend found its way through and hit Harry squarely in the face, at which point he reconsidered shoving his head under the pillow. It was an extremely close thing.

Richard: …I can’t believe people consider this good writing.

 

"How's your back?" Ron asked in a very concerned manner. "Not serious I hope."

"If it was serious Madame Pomfrey would have me chained to a bed in the hospital wing," Harry pointed out as his mood failed to improve, especially with the mental images he had just conjured for himself.

Roy: I agree, Richard… the author should have written “backside” instead of “back”. And this HAS to be innuendo. “Chained to a bed in the hospital wing”? The mental images are failing to improve my mood, either.

Richard: Especially as there MUST be a lemon by that description on adultfanfiction.net. “After an injury, Harry is confined to the hospital wing. When Madame Pomfrey begins to have feelings for her patient, how will he react? MF, Bondage, Chains, Older Woman, Drugs, Doctor-patient role-play–”

Roy: That’s enough, Richard.

Richard: Enough? I’m just getting STARTED!

{snip, he decides to tell them a white lie, and says that someone hexed him with wings but Madame Pomfrey fixed it. He conks out.}

When he woke up Harry felt less sore, and this progress in his health improved his mood somewhat. As he tentatively shifted and slowly climbed off the bed he was not surprised to find Ron sitting on his own bed reading a Quidditch magazine. Harry didn't really mind, although he knew his friend was keeping an eye on him.

"Welcome back," Ron said with a cheerful smile, "feeling better?"

Roy: (Ron) I wanna be your Keeper, Harry… I want you to Seek all my –

Richard: Enough! The innuendo is bad enough as it is, and this is Harry/Draco! THERE WILL BE NO HARRY/RON!

Harry nodded and slowly stood up, experimentally flexing his back. There was a slight twinge as he moved his shoulder blades, but that was all, which was even better than the morning had been.

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and picking up his glasses from where he had thrown them.

 

"About two I think, Mate," Ron replied, standing up as well. "I tried to wake you for lunch, but you weren't having any of it."

Roy: You see?

Richard: MATE, in this context, is a British expression for “pal”. Admittedly, later on… BUT IT IS NOT HARRY/RON. This isn’t marked as a threesome story.

{snip, Harry admits to Ron that he lied to the others, and says he’ll talk to Ron and Hermione about it right after he gets some food}

 

"Never mind, Harry," his best friend said supportively, "I'm sure we'll figure it out."

Since the defeat of Voldemort, Ron had turned out to be surprisingly optimistic about most things; his faith that everything would work out was a great comfort to Harry.

Richard: So Ron is now Yoh Asakura? 

"Yeah," he agreed, feeling much better about the whole situation than he had earlier, "let's hope."

And with that he stretched again and then bent down to rummage for his wash things in his trunk. What he needed right now was a nice hot shower.

Roy: So that he could ‘think’ about Ron’s earlier proposal.

Elbe: “Wash things”? That, and… Fanon came and broke your heart/ Oh-a-oh-oh-oh/ And now we meet in an abandoned library/ We hear the Strunk and White and it seems so long ago/ And you remember the rules of grammar used to go…

Showering and letting the house elves feed him and Ron until they burst improved Harry's mood even further and he was feeling much happier by the time they tracked down Hermione and convinced her to leave her Potions homework and follow them to an empty classroom. It was not as if he was pleased by his new anatomical additions, but he had faced much worse and it was not as if this was a life or death situation. All he had to do really was forget about them and get on with life.

Elbe: Yes, that first sentence WAS one sentence. Oh-a-oh/ You were the first one/ Oh-a-oh/ You were the last one/ Badfic killed the grammar teacher/ Badfic killed the grammar teacher…

Richard: ANATOMICAL ADDITIONS?! NO! NOT ANOTHER ‘SUBJUGATION’!

Roy: It’s the wings, not any female parts. I hope.

"So what is it, Harry?" Hermione asked after she closed the door. "Ron said something earlier about someone hexing you with wings."

 

"It wasn't a hex," he said honestly, "but it was wings."

Although he had not explained much, this answer seemed to please Hermione.

 

"Well that at least explains why I've never heard of a hex like that," she said firmly.

Ron did not seem to share her opinion.

 

"Hexes are usually instantaneous," Hermione explained calmly, "Harry was showing symptoms for days according to what you told me. Now if it had been a long term curse I could have understood it but..."

Elbe: But this STORY is a long-term curse.

Richard: *smiles* Elbe, you’re learning.

Roy: I’m proud of you, little sister.

 

She trailed off and Harry gave her a little smile for her restraint. As far as he could tell Hermione's explanation cleared up Ron's confusion, after all there were several hexes that could give a person wings; the twins had used enough of them over the years he had known them. Harry watched the interplay calmly and waited for them to sort themselves out.

Elbe: In my mind and in my browser/ We can’t hit “Back” we’ve gone too far/ Oh-a-oh-oh/ Oh-a-oh-oh/ Grammar killed the badfic star/ Grammar killed the badfic star

Richard: You changed it?

Elbe: It was awkward the other way.

 

"What was it then, Mate?" Ron asked curiously.

Roy: As Mate is capitalized, I really think this is a Harry/Ron fic in disguise.

"This," he replied and turned his back on them while pulling his oversized T-shirt over his head.

"Harry," Hermione said almost instantly, "those look sore."

He didn't move as both of his friends moved forward to take a better look.

"They aren't so bad now," he told them honestly, "but they hurt like hell most of the night. I have some ointment in the dorm and they're going to be tender for a couple of days, but the worst is over."

Roy: Let me translate that: (Harry) Yeah, Madame Pomfrey was awfully kinky… but she gave me some lube, and I’m fine now. Of course, I still hurt a little… so, Ron, could you use your Healing-You-Know-What?

Richard: BACKSEX. Something I never, ever needed to think about.

There were a few seconds of silence and then Hermione asked the obvious question.

 

"You mentioned wings," she said curiously, "is this what's left of them?"

Roy: (Harry) Sorry. You have no idea how rough Poppy can be in bed… she says they’ll grow back after a couple of days, though. Then, we can have another session.

 

"Those are them," Harry replied openly, "what you can see is the wing nubs. The wings are magical, the come from inside. I'd show you, but I'm a little sketchy on the details myself."

Roy: They’re just like –

Richard: A cloaca. I beat you to it.

 

"Wow," was Ron's concise opinion.

 

"Yes, Hermione, you can touch them if you're careful," Harry said, interpreting the awkward silence that fell after that.

Richard: (Harry) They may be small, but they’re very sensitive! I can do lots of things with them!

Elbe: (Hermione) You weren’t kidding when you said they were sensitive, were you? I think YOU need to practice touching them more, so that you can handle a REAL woman touching them.

Roy: (Ron) H-H-Harry? I – I thought we were – how could you let HER touch them? Do I mean nothing to you? *sniffle*

 

Delicate fingertips connected with the wing nubs almost instantly and Harry couldn't help it; he shuddered. The sensations the light touch sent through his body were not what he was expecting and he shied away rapidly.

Roy: Richard… I – I – You were right!

Richard: …This is ludicrous. At this rate, the ointment will actually be a magic lotion to make them bigger and more sensitive, and we’ll have REAL back-sex.

Elbe: Richard, normally I would say Celebrian is something that cannot be reproduced by any living being, but… I fear you may be right…

 

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, "that tickled."

 

Which was sort of true, but he made a mental note that his wing nubs were an erogenous zone and dropped his T-Shirt back down.

All three: *Simultaneously cradle heads in hands*

"They feel like a cross between leather and silk," Hermione commented as he turned back around. "How long are you going to have them?"

Roy: I thought those were Snape’s boxers.

Richard: HARRY WILL HAVE SNAPE’S BOXERS FOREVER?!

Harry: Excuse me – I NEED that Capslock of Rage to defeat Voldemort. *takes it and leaves*

Roy: I actually meant that I thought Suethors thought Snape’s boxers were a cross between leather and silk. Your interpretation is positively disturbing.

Richard: You’re telling ME that, you -

"Forever," Harry replied with a little shrug and saw the shock register on both his friends' faces.

 

It was obvious that even though they knew it wasn't a hex they had assumed that some other magical method had created and would remove the wings.

 

"But if someone did this to you can't Madame Pomfrey reverse it?" Ron asked and looked worried.

 

It was explanation time and Harry chose to perch on a near by desk.

Richard: (As Near) Why is this winged creature perching on me by using a desk? Is he an accomplice of Kira?

"No one did this to me, unless you count one of my ancestors marrying a Seraphim being someone doing something to me," Harry told them and found himself surprisingly calm about the whole thing. "I was born with vestigial wings, but they were removed and when I absorbed Voldemort's power it started them off again."

Elbe: Yes, the fic author making you be a descendant of an angel-like creature DOES qualify as “someone doing something to you”.

 

Hermione sat down with her mouth open; Ron also appeared at a loss to find anything to say.

Richard: *joins in*

 

"Seraphim," the head girl said slowly, "aren't they very rare?"

Roy: (Harry) Yeth, we are. We are mothtly interethted in Thinji-kun, though.

 

"I'm not sure they're rare," Harry replied honestly, "but considering how much magic it takes to make one, they probably are. I do know they aren't fond of mixing with humans; worse than the centaurs according to Dumbledore."

 

He could almost see his friend cataloguing everything she knew about Seraphim in her head. He had no doubt she would be heading for the library at the earliest opportunity.

Elbe: (Hermione) Ka-wo-ru Na-gi-sa. OOH, YAOI!

Richard: *snorts* *glares at audience* YOU try not to laugh imaging Kaworu walking around Hogwarts?!

 

Ron had been staring at him in amazement, but his expression was softening as he accepted the facts.

Elbe: (Ron) Suethor… don’t know what to say, bloke…

Roy: (Ron) You – you love me? You really do? Harry, I –

 

"No wonder you were in a bad mood this morning, Mate," his best friend said sympathetically. "So can you fly or what?"

Roy: (Ron) PMS is a nasty wench, isn’t it? And if you can’t fly… can you still fly on MY broomstick?

Richard: SHUT UP, ROY!

 

It was just like Ron to move straight to the point and Harry found himself smiling at his companion's bluntness.

Roy: His attitude isn’t all that’s blunt - *gagged*

Richard: You insufferable… *euphemism deleted*

"Dumbledore says I should be able to," he replied, "but I won't be jumping off the Astronomy tower any time soon. I'm going to have to figure out how they work, and I'd rather most people didn't know I'm even weirder than they think I am."

"You're not weird, Harry," Hermione said firmly, "you're incredibly magically gifted and you had a madman after you most of your life; that's not weird it's a combination of good and bad luck that happened to make you an icon."

Elbe: They’re so OOC, it’s – it’s –

Richard: *comforts her* I know. I know.

His friend's tone was so resolute and she nodded as if to back up her point, but Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. Since the previous evening he had been so tense and worried even if some of his anxiety had eased and Hermione's show of support both touched him and tickled him at the same time. It was just what he needed to crack the tension and once he started chuckling he couldn't stop. For a moment Hermione just looked at him, but slowly she smiled and then she began to laugh as well. Ron appeared at a loss for a while, but it didn't take him long to join it.

The whole situation was faintly ridiculous: he had wings; he was related to barely understood magical creatures; and everything always seemed to happen to him. Harry just let it all out, and by the time he had finished he could barely stand up.

Richard: *gapes* The author UNDERSTANDS THIS, yet wrote the story?! WHAT?

End of Chapter 1