Alteration (Book 3 of The Corruption Sequence)

Chapter 8. Preparations

The nausea was beginning to pass after about three quarters of an hour, but Harry was still feeling sorry for himself, and he was in the mood to be decidedly antisocial. Draco had stopped trying to make him talk or do anything for that matter after five minutes of prying him away from the toilet and had moved to the desk and was reading a textbook of some sort.

Harry was sitting on the bed sulking, or at least that's what his lover had told him he was doing. Harry for his part had no intention of stopping even if he was just being difficult. As far as he was concerned, he had every right to be annoyed (although Snape's fate had been relegated to maiming rather than outright murder now).

It was not exactly the best time for someone to come calling and, when Jeremy announced that Professor McGonagall was waiting outside, Harry almost told the portrait to tell her to go away, but Draco got there first.

"Let her in please, Jeremy," Draco said, much to Harry's growing outrage.

The portrait looked to Harry and then back at Draco, and it was a credit to the power of Slytherin determination when his door guardian decided to obey Draco rather than the unhappy look Harry was sporting.

"What if I don't want her to come in?" he demanded pointedly, standing up and glaring.

"She's your head of house," Draco said looking back at his book, "and she has been fighting your corner since the moment she set foot at the Manor. Now be polite."

The urge to maim and rend almost switched focus to his lover at that moment, but the get out of jail free card kicked in and derailed his anger just as Professor McGonagall walked in. He looked awkwardly at her for a moment and her eyes ran over him and then to Draco. The head of Gryffindor had never been one of Draco's biggest fans, in fact it could be said that Professor McGonagall had been glad when Draco had not returned to school for his seventh year, and she still appeared somewhat uncomfortable with him in the room.

"Good morning, Harry, Draco," Professor McGonagall greeted politely.

"Hello," was about the nicest response Harry could manage.

"Good morning, Professor," Draco was far more charming and stood up as he spoke.

That appeared to cause a quandary in the head of Gryffindor. It seemed to Harry as if she had expected more of an opposite response where he was the overly polite one and Draco the surly. Well he was in no mood to play nice, so quite frankly Draco could lay on the charm as much as he liked as far as Harry was concerned.

"I'm afraid there was an unfortunate incident with a potion this morning," his lover continued to speak to his head of house as Harry just glared, "and Harry is not in the best of moods."

"Snape bloody poisoned me is what happened," he said pointedly, totally ignoring the fact that he was swearing in front of the head of Gryffindor.

Understanding dawned in Professor McGonagall's eyes and she smiled sympathetically at Harry.

"Ah, I see," she said in a very understanding tone, "I can understand how that would be unpleasant. I was just dropping in to discuss the arrangements for Miss Granger, Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom to visit, but it may be a better idea to delay the meeting if you are feeling unwell."

Part of Harry jumped for joy, but the rest of him went cold. Although the idea of the visit terrified him on one level, the social part of his nature had been longing to see his friends again. The suggestion caught him totally off guard and rather derailed any annoyance he might have been feeling. He opened his mouth to object but found himself far too conflicted to speak.

Not knowing what to do, he sat down and stared at the floor. These days, when it came to any interaction with the outside world, he seemed to spend his time in a perpetual haze of confusion. He rather forgot he was not alone as he did his best to sort out the mixed emotions that had so suddenly swamped him.

"Harry," he snapped back to reality as someone spoke to him and he looked up quickly.

Professor McGonagall was standing only a few feet away and she appeared concerned, Draco was only another foot or so behind her.

"Are you all right," his head of house asked kindly.

"Confused," he said shortly, but mainly because he couldn't explain it beyond that, rather than because he was still sulking.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Professor McGonagall enquired in the same supportive way she had always had with him.

It was a genuine question rather than anything born of forced feelings of responsibility, so Harry considered it for a moment, but slowly shook his head. He really did not think he wanted to explain what he was feeling.

"It's difficult," he said and hoped that his head of house would not push.

As it was, she nodded in acceptance and looked around the room.

"As you wish, Young man," she said agreeably. "Perhaps we should discuss the arrangements for this afternoon and decide on timing later. Would you mind if I sat down?"

It was then that Harry realised what Professor McGonagall had been looking for: somewhere to sit.

"Um," he said apologetically, "Professor Dumbledore usually conjures himself a chair."

That caused the witch to smile.

"Yes, well, the headmaster has rather particular taste in furniture," she replied fondly, "however, I was led to believe that the Room of Requirements would provide whatever is needed by the occupants. Would you care to do the honours or shall I?"

It had not occurred to Harry that he could add to what was already in the room, and it dawned on him that maybe he had been being somewhat dense.

"Um, I'm not sure how," he admitted sheepishly.

"Concentration, Harry," Professor McGonagall said, almost as if she was at the head of a class teaching; "the key to most magic is concentration."

That sounded far too easy, in Harry's experience magic was actually concentration and some hideously complicated words and actions, but although he was a peevish dark creature, he was not about to contradict Professor Minerva McGonagall to her face. Voldemort was one thing, an annoyed McGonagall was another, and he had already dealt with the only one he had any intention of engaging.

"So, all I need to do is think hard enough?" he asked, honestly intrigued.

He had stood in the hallway concentrating to make the room into what he needed many times, but once inside, changing it had never come up. His head of house nodded with a small smile. Dubiously Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on a mental image of the high back chairs that the staff used in the Great Hall. He really wasn't sure the room worked in quite the way Professor McGonagall seemed to think it did, but he was willing to try.

"Thank you, Harry," his head of house's voice broke through his concentration and he opened his eyes to find the chair from his mental image sitting next to his head of house.

He did not bother to hide his surprise. His eyes flicked to Draco and then back to the chair—this opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

"So, Harry," Professor McGonagall said cheerfully as she sat down, "about this afternoon."