Chapter Text
Harry had never particularly enjoyed waking up on his birthday. At best, his relatives ignored him all the harder on that day. At worst, they did their best to make absolutely sure he regretted being born. It was only recently, with Hagrid and the Weasleys doing their best to save him from Privet Drive by then, that birthdays had become less of a thing he dreaded
This year, he was still bone deep weary with grief for Sirius, along with a good dose of hatred for the prophecy, based on his birth date, that had seen his parents killed and his life ruined. Still, the Weasleys had managed to spring him from his prison on Privet Drive a whole week early this year, so he was at least slightly more optimistic about the approaching date.
He really should have known better.
Harry awoke to screams. Not just the Dementor-awakened screams in his nightmares, but live, loud, familiar screams. Harry opened his eyes and found Ron and Ginny screaming while Hermione seemed frozen in shock. And all of them were staring at him.
It took slightly longer for Harry to realize that, aside from the headache from their screams, things were off. His head wasn't at the height he expected while sitting up in bed, he felt strangely cold, and his eyes felt more off than just being gummed with sleep could account for. For the first time he looked down, and realized why they were screaming.
His legs were gone, replaced by a large snake tail, the green and black scales coming up over his hips and fading out in spurts across his belly. Harry didn't have time to examine things further — the others were acting like this was more than just a prank from the twins, which would be Harry's first guess — because the adults finally arrived.
Mrs. Weasley took one look at Harry and her scream joined her childrens', while Mr. Weasley turned pale and stumbled back against the wall. Harry was abruptly reminded that a large snake had attacked him at Christmas, and he might prefer not to be reminded of it. Harry reached out, half-heartedly attempting to better cover his new tail with the blanket, when the remaining adults all pulled their wands on him.
Harry froze, staring in confusion at Moody, Remus, and Bill. "Guys?" he questioned.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Potter?" Moody growled.
"I'm me!" Harry protested. "I just woke up like this! Ask the twins if you want!"
"No one can turn someone into a Naga, not even the twins," Bill said firmly.
"A what?" Harry repeated. The word sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't really place it.
"A Naga is a person cursed with features of a snake," Hermione said shakily. "Unlike a Gorgon, which is a person-like creature with snakes for hair, or a Chimera, which is a creature composed of multiple animals, including a snake, the Naga starts as human."
"So I'm cursed?" Harry repeated.
"Not the way you mean," Remus said. His voice was sad, but his wand was still pointed directly at Harry. "I believe you met a Veela girl during your fourth year?"
"Fleur, yeah."
"To use the Veela as an example, a Veela can mate with a human, producing a partial Veela child. If that child is not a squib, they have the potential to manifest Veela traits as they get older. Some may appear when they are children — great beauty and the trademark blonde hair are common with Veela — but most will come as a magical inheritance on their sixteenth birthday. Fleur, being a seventh year, was well over sixteen, and thus had gained her Veela inheritance. I believe she had aspects of the allure and an affinity for fire, as well as a weakness to the cold?"
"Yeah?" That all sounded vaguely accurate to Harry. "So you're saying that my mum or dad was a Naga, and that's why I woke up this way? It's my inheritance?"
"No!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "The Potters were a good, light family!"
Remus sighed when Harry looked at him in confusion. "The inheritance can be passed down through the line, so no, neither of your parents was a Naga themselves. However, Molly is correct that it did not run in the Potter line, which brings up some questions…" he trailed off for a moment, then shook himself and continued. "Regardless, Harry, the problem is that Naga are not like Veela."
"Well, clearly. One's part bird and one's part snake, yeah?" That seemed obvious to Harry.
"No, one's pretty and one's a bloody monster!" Ron burst out. "I mean, bad enough you could talk to snakes, but to become one?" Ron shuddered violently.
"What?"
"Naga are dark creatures, Harry," Hermione said sadly. "You— you're a dark creature now."
"But, so are werewolves, right?" Harry looked back to Remus. "I mean…"
"The difference is that I was bitten against my will; I didn't choose to turn into this," Remus said stiffly.
"And from what you said, I inherited this from one or both of my parents!" Harry was starting to get mad. "I didn't choose to be born, either!"
"Calm down, or I'll put you down!" Moody snarled.
Harry gaped at him. He'd not felt unsafe with this Moody; not since he'd been proven to be the real one. But now he was uncomfortably reminded of the moments after the third task, when Barty!Moody had dragged Harry off to his classroom.
"You're going to kill me—"
"Not kill, Harry," Hermione protested weakly.
"—because I woke up with a magical creature inheritance that you don't like?" Harry continued warily. "That according to you my parents also had in their blood. That somehow makes me a worse monster than Moony? Even though I'm still the exact same person I was yesterday, except for the tail? Have I got that all right?"
"It's not that simple," Remus murmured, but Harry had kept his eyes locked with Moody, and now he raised one eyebrow.
"Yes," Moody snarled. "That's exactly what's happening."
Harry scanned over the group. Remus and Bill still had their wands on him, though they'd lowered from the ready position while Remus was talking. Mrs. Weasley had drawn hers at one point, but she also wasn't prepared to fire. Moody, however, was apparently ready and willing, and his wand was still pointed directly at Harry's chest. "So what now? You just going to stand here, ready to kill an underaged wizard in his bed until… what? We both collapse from sleep deprivation or starve to death or something?"
"I think we're all just a little on edge," Mr. Weasley spoke up for the first time. "But I'm sure that this isn't necessary. Surely we can go downstairs and have breakfast while we wait for Albus to arrive?"
Most of the people crammed in his doorway agreed, with the adults lowering their wands even further. Moody, however, didn't move an inch.
"Alastor?" Mr. Weasley said firmly.
"Get out of bed slowly, Potter," he finally growled. "Hands where I can see 'em, at all times."
"I don't suppose I can at least put a shirt on?" Harry snarked. "Or keep my blanket? I'm essentially naked here, you know, and I didn't think you felt that way about teenage boys."
Ron and Mrs. Weasley turned bright red at the insinuation, and Hermione quietly scolded, "Harry Potter!" but Harry kept his eyes on Moody.
"Granger, get a shirt out of his trunk. Potter, don't move a muscle."
"I'll just put it on using my mind then, yeah?" Harry said, even as Hermione opened his trunk. She quickly pulled out the first shirt in there — a green button down that Harry had been planning on wearing today, since she and Mrs. Weasley both insisted that it matched his eyes. "Grab the checked flannel too, please? I'm a bit cold." Hermione paused for a second, then grabbed the second shirt that he'd planned to wear today. She closed his trunk and stood there, holding them, looking at Moody.
"At least let him get dressed, Alastor," Remus murmured. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about Remus: the man was acting slightly less nutty than Moody, but he'd still been holding his wand on Harry through everything, and insisting that a teenage boy who hadn't done anything but wake up this morning was somehow worse than him, a werewolf who had nearly killed several people in this very room.
The standoff took long enough that Harry was tempted to look at his watch — if moving his wrist wasn't likely to get him cursed seven ways to Sunday by the paranoid old Auror. Finally, Moody huffed. "Slowly, Potter. Nothing funny."
Harry rolled his eyes, but accepted the demand as he slowly reached out one hand to accept his shirts from Hermione. She handed them over, then slipped back towards Ron and Ginny. As Harry slowly got dressed, Mr. Weasley finally ushered his wife and younger children out of the room. By the time Harry was tugging his flannel straight, Remus and Moody were the only ones left.
"I'm not actually sure how to walk like this," Harry admitted as he eyed the blanket still around his legs — or what used to be his legs. "Is it still considered walking? Slithering? I don't know." He looked back up at Moody and Remus. "I'm just saying, I don't think I'm exactly going to be coordinated right now."
Remus gave a tiny nod, but Moody just glared.
"Right, just thought I'd put that out there before you cursed me for not knowing how to steer," Harry mumbled. His hands were down near his hips, and he braced one on the mattress as he reached for the blanket with the other. He was slow and careful, just as he had been with the shirt, but he knew this was his only chance. As Harry flipped the blanket up off his lap, he slipped his far hand backwards, under his pillow, and grasped onto his wand.
Remus's eyes had flicked down, looking at Harry's exposed tail, and for a second, Moody's did the same. That second was all Harry needed, as he cast a silent stunner through the pillow and into the Auror's face as his own spell whizzed past Harry's ear. A second stunner took out Remus, and then Harry tumbled out of the bed, whipped his wand around, and apparated.