Chapter Text
”Where’s Madame Pomfrey?” Harry groaned from his cot, new anxiety washing over him at the sight of Snape.
Professor Snape’s lips curled into a tight, thin lipped smile. “She has been in the library, researching your condition, and then to speak with the headmaster,”
”M-my condition?” Harry stammered. “What’s wrong with me then?”
“Amphibious reassignment,” Snape’s murmur was smug.
“Amphibian what?!” Harry squawked.
“It would appear that you chose not to fully investigate the effects of the Gillyweed you pilfered from my supply room before using it to aide you in the tournament…”His pause was timed perfectly and sent Harry’s bloodpressure skyward. “One of the unfortunate side effects of oral consumption in the dried form is that it’s influences are concentrated and therefore much longer lasting than if used fresh.”
“Get to the point!” Harry snapped.
Snape frowned. “Very well…Gillyweed is known to convey, besides temporary gills, other amphibious characteristics, including those of a reproductive nature.”
“Merlin! I’m turning into a toad!?” Harry gasped.
“No, you ignorant twit!” Snape snapped. “It is a well known fact that some amphibians harbor hermaphroditic qualities, and when faced with unequal ratios of the female or male sex, are quite capable of physically reverting to the other, in order to maintain species continuity.”
Harry stared dumbly.
Snape rolled his eyes. “You dorming situation combined with the Gillyweed has convinced your body to alter it’s physical nature to a state capable of impregnation. In many Wizards, this side effect has not proved significant, but it appears that you’ve a penchant for…coupling with members of your own sex. Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You’re the thirteenth wizard in recorded history to conceive a child.” He grimaced.
Harry processed the information slowly, and when all the pieces clicked into place, felt a sudden wave of nausea roll over him. He ducked and turned to the side, heaving the remnants of his breakfast into the bin.
“Morning sickness.” Snape said grimly.
“It is not, either!” Harry shouted, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve only just found out that I’m…I’m…are you certain?”
”Very much so, Potter. It is like you to question my expertise, isn’t it?”
Harry fell uncharacteristically silent.
“Care to divulge the father of your spawn? Knowledge of their lineage may prove useful in sorting out any future diseases that may crop up.”
Harry’s gut rolled again, and he heaved. “Oh, Gods…isn’t there something I can take to…to…” he waved his hand vaguely.
“Get rid of it?” Snape’s normally expressionless face took on a look of momentary surprise. “No, I’m afraid not. Not without consent from both contributing parties, anyway…If you had a name, we might be able to convince him…”
”Absolutely not!” Harry shook his head vehemently and bit his lip.
“Carrying another Weasley, perhaps?”
The idea veritably repulsed Harry. “Ew, no. No, he’s not even…I mean he doesn’t know that I…just…no.”
“Longbottom? Finnegan? Finch-Fletchly?” Snape guessed.
Harry shook his head again.
“Very well, then , Potter. Special considerations will have to be made for you, though I’m certain that you believe you are entitled to them…. but do not think we can hide your condition for very long. No matter. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you, so you might as well be off to your classes. If you change your mind, I’m sure the wizarding community at large will be waiting on pins and needles for your news.”
Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times before he scrambled off the bed and snatched up his robes. How could he be expected to carry on as usual with the knowledge that he was carrying a baby within his belly?
” The headmaster is sure to want to speak with you this afternoon,” Snape shook his head. “I trust you will make yourself available?”
Harry nodded numbly. He placed a hand over his belly. He wasn’t certain that he could go through with taking a potion anyway. It was a baby, his baby, and as much a part of him that he was of his parents. As much a part of him as it was of Malfoy…
“And Potter?” Snape’s happiness was certain. “Since your condition precludes flying…I’ll thank you now for handing Slytherin the Quidditch trophy, and by proxy, the house cup.”
He crammed his feet into his trainers and scowled. Sod the Gillyweed and sod Draco Malfoy. Turning into a toad might be preferable, at this point, to facing the idea that his brilliant one-off had just turned into the biggest nightmare of the century.