Harry heard the entrance to his room open as he shamelessly hid behind the almost closed bathroom door. He had recovered from Snape's potion, and managed to restore his better mood, but that was rapidly changing again. Jeremy was under instructions to let his visitors in when they arrived, and Harry had been cowering in the smaller room for a good ten minutes.

Quite frankly he was terrified.

"Ah, Harry must be in the bathroom," Professor McGonagall said pleasantly as he listened at the door, "I'm sure he won't be a moment."

Harry swallowed hard and stared at his reflection in the mirror; so different. Would they be able to see him under the physical changes his condition had made, or would they just see this dark creature which stared back at him? The idea of slamming the door home, locking it and screaming for them to go away briefly flitted through his head, but he managed to suppress it ... just.

Biting his lip nervously he reached for the door handle and tried to bring his thundering heart rate under control.

Pulling back the safety barrier between himself and his friends was one of the hardest things he had ever done, and he stepped into the main chamber with all the confidence of a ferret amongst a heard of hippogriffs. His friends were all stood around the library area and appeared to be pretending to look at various book titles as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Professor McGonagall gave him a supportive smile as he hovered just inside the room. Neville was the first to turn.

His friend's eye went wide and Neville's mouth turned into a little round 'o'. If one thing could always be relied upon, it was Neville's complete inability to hide what he was thinking. Harry almost bolted.

"Harry," the flustered Gryffindor said, which of course caused Ron and Hermione to both look in his direction as well.

Ron just stared, face completely blank. Hermione was the first to move. To Harry's growing horror she hurried across the room. If he hadn't been quite so shocked, he might have reacted defensively, as if was, when she threw her arms around him, he simply froze completely.

"Harry," she said into his shoulder, "we've been so worried."

He was assailed by a confusing influx of instincts which ranged from the desire to remove the threat of the very powerful witch who was embracing him, up to wanting to return the hug. It left him rather shocked and stiff in his friend's arms. Hermione was nothing if not persistent, however, and she held on until eventually he managed to overcome his conflict and awkwardly embraced her back.

"Hello," he said quietly as she finally pulled back.

The genuine smile on Hermione's face rather took his breath away, she seemed so pleased to see him, and he couldn't understand why he didn't horrify her.

"When they took you, we were frantic," Hermione said, "I'm so glad you're back and in one piece."

"With added extras," he said far more bitterly than he had meant to.

For a moment his friend frowned at him and then pursed her lips.

"Yes, well we can help you with that," she said firmly, "I'm just glad you're alive. One reason to be thankful for Voldemort's complete insanity; anyone with any sense would have just killed you."

It was typical of Hermione to be practical and Harry did not quite know how to react. He had expected horrified reactions, fear and a division that could not be breached, but it was almost as if he hadn't changed at all. It seemed that Hermione was still quite willing to express her forthright opinions, and she didn't seem to be remotely nervous of him. In fact, all he could feel from her was a deep curiosity, sympathy and happiness; he was rather at a loss to know how to proceed.

"Well," Professor McGonagall said in her usual, kind but firm tone, "having dispatched my duty in delivering your friends, Mr Potter, I shall take my leave. I hope you all have a pleasant afternoon."

It was funny how the woman could be so formal one moment and almost like an eccentric aunt the next.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said politely, even as part of him wanted to beg her to stay and maintain the position of chaperone.

"The wards will allow you through from this direction, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom," Professor McGonagall said pleasantly, "and there is no need to let anyone know when you leave; the protections will inform the headmaster when you choose to return to Gryffindor Tower."

"Thank you," Hermione spoke for the other three.

As the door closed behind the Professor, Harry felt as if the ground was opening beneath him. Hermione may have been taking everything calmly, but Neville still appeared shocked and Ron was not reacting in anyway Harry had come to expect from his best friend. Whether he liked it or not, Ron was the epitome of a fiery redhead and Molly's son was like his mother in that he tended to be very emotive. The fact that Ron barely had any expression said far more than if his best friend had been raging around the room.

"You seem to have been doing a lot of reading," Hermione made an opening gambit to break the stillness that had fallen the moment Professor McGonagall had left. "You must have half the restricted section in here."

"I don't think they're actually here until I need them," Harry said, willing to take the opening for what it was. "I'm not quite sure how it works, but Dumbledore said something about the books being images until I want to read them, and then the library lets me borrow the real book when I take it off the shelf. I've been trying to figure out what I am; I had never even heard of some of the creatures on Snape's list."

Hermione smiled at that.

"Well some of them are a little obscure," she said, "I had to look some of them up as well."

Perversely, Harry couldn't help enjoying that—stumping Hermione was almost unheard of. He smiled back.

"I'll have to make a note on the calendar," he said trying to make light of the situation: "'Am something Hermione didn't know about, have achieved life's aim.'"

This time the bitterness was far less pronounced, and his friend politely ignored that it was there at all.

"How are you feeling, Mate?" Ron finally entered the conversation as Harry and Hermione stalled in their awkward discourse.

Several curt answers came to mind, especially after the potions fiasco, but the part of Harry who was glad that his best friend had chosen to speak won the race to his mouth.

"Pretty bizarre," he admitted, "but I think I'm getting the hang of some of it. If I snap at you, don't take any notice, I have a foul temper these days."

"So, what's new?" Harry couldn't help staring as Neville launched in boldly.

For a second he was so shocked at his friend's words that he didn't know how to react, and Neville appeared ready to run if necessary. Eventually a heartfelt laugh bubbled up and out of his throat; maybe his fellow Gryffindor had a point. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to simply laugh and he was very happy to see a smile replace the unsure look on Neville's face.

"Yeah," Harry said lightly, "you could be right. Just if I get in a snit don't get between me and the furniture, it can cope with my frustration. Shall we sit down?"

That brokered confusion in his friends since there was apparently only one chair in the room.

"Three piece or a table and chairs?" Harry asked pleasantly.

"Something comfortable," Hermione said, catching on.

Harry closed his eyes and made a firm picture of furniture similar to that in the Gryffindor common room in his mind. After his little try and success at asking the room for things earlier that morning, he hoped fervently it worked this time. When he opened his eyes there were two armchairs and a sofa sitting in the middle of the room. He smiled, pleased with himself.

"Perk of living in the Room of Requirement," he said as Ron looked at him in a rather startled manner.

Taking the lead, he flopped down into one of the chairs and hoped the others would follow him. Unsurprisingly, Neville took the other chair and Hermione and Ron sat down on the sofa; it was so completely normal that for a moment Harry could almost have believed they were all in the common room. It was a pleasant feeling and he managed to hold onto it for a good few seconds before reality insisted on being acknowledged.

"So, what have I missed?" he asked in an attempt to keep his mood buoyant.

"You're better off in here," Ron said in almost his normal tone, "it's gone mental out there. As soon as the special edition of the Prophet came out the world ground to a halt; lessons weren't officially cancelled yesterday afternoon, but I don't think anyone did any work, and the girls have been wandering around decorating anything that doesn't walk away."

"Not all the girls, Ron," Hermione corrected lightly, "and you're only annoyed because Lavender tried to make you wear that flowery banner. It's good to see people celebrating."

Harry looked at his best friend's uncomfortable expression.

"Flowery banner?" he asked, knowing that this had to be interesting.

Hermione looked gleeful at the enquiry.

"The seventh years have been doing Hippies in Muggle Studies," she said brightly, "and Lavender has decided that flower power is the perfect way to celebrate peace. Flowers are turning up everywhere, and she has enlisted half of Hufflepuff as well. Since she doesn't have you to work with, she decided that Ron, as your best friend, was a valid target, and she tried to stick him into a banner proclaiming peace and love with bright pink flowers."

"Yeah and if Hermione hadn't been good at undoing sticking charms, I'd still be wearing it," Ron said in a very affronted tone.

"It clashed with his hair," Neville said with a laugh.

"Wasn't bloody funny," Ron grouched, in his annoyance seeming to forget any awkwardness.

Harry knew, as a best friend, he should have agreed with Ron and commiserated with him, but he couldn't help himself as he laughed. Lavender could be insistent when she felt like it and he could just imagine Ron trying to get away. When it came to any threat they had ever faced, Ron had been there ready to deal with it, but his best friend was hopeless when it came to coping with stubborn girls. The betrayed looked on Ron's face was a picture and just made Harry laugh harder.

"Sorry, Ron," he apologised between chuckles, "but I wish I'd been there to see that."

"Yeah, well if you had been there, she wouldn't have bothered with me would she?" his friend said sulkily.

For once it appeared that Ron would have preferred to play second fiddle to The Boy Who Lived. For a brief second Harry wondered if in his altered state he'd have a similar reaction to Ron, or if he'd try and eat Lavender for her trouble. He managed to sit on the morbid thought before he could dwell on it, but it sobered him a little. It looked like another awkward silence would fall when Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs and looked at him rather meaningfully.

"Wha... oh," Ron was as clueless as usual to begin with. "We went to Hogsmeade this morning, what with the day off and all, and since you can't go yet we brought you some stuff."

His friend then fished in what Harry realised was a suspiciously stuffed pocket and produced a handful of sweets. Then a small problem popped up as Ron looked for somewhere to put them. Quickly Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on a coffee table, which dutifully appeared between.

"Thanks, Mate," Ron said almost absently and dumped the contents of his hand on the new piece of furniture.

"Dobby told us there were some things you couldn't eat any more," Neville said conversationally, "but sweets were okay."

Harry felt strangely warm inside as he realised how much trouble his friends had gone to for him.

"Yeah," he said around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, "it's really weird; saved me from the Ministry trying to drug me though."

"They did what?" Hermione sounded outraged.

"I think they wanted to make sure I wouldn't be any trouble while they took me somewhere," Harry said quietly, "but they put whatever it was in the porridge and I couldn't eat it."

"Idiots," his friend raged bluntly, "with your physiology as it is now anything could have happened. They couldn't possibly have known what would be safe. Thank Merlin Dumbledore took over."

"Um, yeah," Harry agreed, although this wasn't really the direction he wanted the conversation to go and he regretted his earlier words. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked, seeing a familiar looking red lollipop on the table.

It was a diversionary tactic, but it worked as everyone looked down.

"Blood flavoured lollipop," Neville replied brightly, "my idea."

"Thanks, Nev," Harry said in kind and snagged the confectionary with a grin.

The other three just sat there, watching him as he began to unwrap his prize.

"Well," he asked as he noticed, "isn't anyone else going to have something?"

That broke the stillness and his friends dived in as well. It was when he stuck the lollipop into his mouth that Harry suddenly decided that maybe he had made a mistake. The moment the flavour burst onto his tongue his fangs descended in response and he kept his mouth firmly closed to hide them. He had not expected his physiology to react to the sweet, and he did not want to frighten his friends with more strangeness. The major problem was that he couldn't remove the lollipop without revealing that he now had long, vicious fangs in his mouth. For a moment he panicked.