The desire to laugh rose in Harry at the absurdity of the headmaster's statement and it took him long seconds to realise that the man was not joking.

"I'm what?" he asked, totally unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"You are growing wings," Dumbledore replied. "The pain you experienced earlier was the nubs breaking through the skin."

Harry's brain rebelled and completely failed to believe the headmaster. However, he knew Albus Dumbledore far too well to consider the possibility that the old wizard had finally lost it, even when his own psyche told him it had to be true. Human beings did not grow wings, not even magical human beings, unless they were under a spell.

"This cannot be happening," Harry said more to try and calm the thundering of his heart than anything else.

"I'm afraid to say it is," Dumbledore said kindly, "but do not worry, my boy, it is perfectly natural."

"Natural?" Harry almost lost it, just about managing to bring himself under control before he yelled the place down. "How can wings be natural?"

He tried to turn over at that point, but the headmaster's firm hand on his shoulder prevented that.

"Lie still, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "you do not want to aggravate the wounds until they have sealed in their new form. I shall come and sit where you can see me and then I shall answer all your questions."

There was no arguing with the tone Dumbledore was using. Doing his best not to curse the world in general, Harry buried his face in his hands and waited for the headmaster to sit down. He heard Dumbledore exchange a few quiet words with Poppy, but he ignored them as the shock poured through his system. Only at a light touch on his shoulder did Harry turn his head to find the headmaster watching him from little more than a foot away.

"Why am I growing wings?" he asked a little desperately. "Please tell me this is not some joke of Voldemort's from beyond the grave."

"This has little to do with Tom Riddle," Dumbledore assured him calmly, "except for the fact that you absorbed his power, but I shall come to that shortly."

The headmaster paused and observed Harry thoughtfully, giving him no doubt that the old wizard was about to go on.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore began eventually, "this may come as a surprise to you, but this is not the first time you have had the makings of wings."

The headmaster was right, that was a surprise, but Harry didn't have a chance to say so.

"You were born with vestigial wings," was the next revelation to pass Dumbledore's lips, "which is not as unusual as you may think. There are several wizarding families with ancestral irregularities that result in such occurrences. The Potter line is prone to the occasional hint of wings and the happenstance actually delighted your father, since it is a sign of the strength of the child's magic. Your wings would never have developed and hence your parents had them removed when you were only a few days old."

This was enough of a shock, but the news did of course beg one obvious question.

"Why wings?" Harry asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

"Seraphim," the headmaster said.

Harry blinked at Dumbledore wondering if he had heard correctly.

"Seraphim," he said slowly. "Isn't that a kind of angel?"

Harry's religious knowledge was limited, the Dursleys had not been particularly devout Anglicans, but he definitely remembered something about cherubim and seraphim. Christmas had been the one and only time Aunt Petunia had seen fit to drag the whole family, which surprisingly, until he went to Hogwarts, had included Harry, to church. Looking back, he suspected that it might have been one of his Aunt's vague ploys to de-magic him.

"I believe Muggles used the name to mean that," Dumbledore told him thoughtfully, "and I suppose Seraphim do meet most of the descriptive criteria, but they are in fact magical creatures. They appear human in many ways and from a distance you would never know until they unfurl their wings. They are more secretive than centaurs and very few ever come into contact with what they consider the lower races. One of your ancestors found her way into one of their hearts and the heritage has descended through the Potter line."

"But why now?" there were hundreds of questions floating in Harry's mind and he chose one at random.

"Because of how powerful you have become, Harry," Dumbledore explained kindly. "Seraphim are much more than simply magical: they are magic. For Seraphim to reproduce takes a great deal of raw power and when one combined with a human line the amount of magic required was not available. That is what I meant when I said that any hint of wings was a sign of a wizard's potential. That you exhibited any indication of Seraphim heritage at all as a baby showed a staggering magical ability on your part, Harry. When you absorbed Voldemort's powers you, shall we say, initiated the previously dormant subsection of your nature."

Harry felt like screaming, but he bit his tongue and tried to remain rational. For once he would have preferred something like this to happen to someone else.

"Can we get rid of them?" he asked quietly, dreading the answer that he knew was coming.

"I'm sorry, my boy, but no," the headmaster said gently. "When your wings were removed as a child they were not developed and hence, were more of an adornment than a limb. Your new ones, as far as Poppy can tell, are fully functional and have evolved as part of your physical being. To remove them would seriously damage you."

Harry couldn't help himself, he moaned and buried his face in his hands. Dumbledore placed a calming hand on his shoulder and appeared to be waiting until he was ready to continue.

"How big are they going to be?" Harry finally asked and turned tired eyes to his headmaster.

"Unfurled," Dumbledore said calmly, "at least five meters in span. What you must remember is that Seraphim wings are not natural wings like those of a bird, they are far more useful and far more dynamic. They are magically controlled rather than physically and are a powerful defence mechanism. Very few hexes can penetrate a Seraphim's wings when they are used as a shield. They will of course allow you to fly, and the best news is that unless you choose to use them, they will be no more noticeable than they are now."

That made Harry mentally sit up and take note. When he had been told he was growing wings he had imagined six-foot high masses of feathers or wispy little butterfly wings. Now he was confused.

"How can wings with a span of five meters not show?" he asked, not sure how it could be possible.

"Magical wings, remember, Harry," Dumbledore said with a slight smile. "The wing nubs are all that are physically visible normally. When the wings are unfurled the nubs split open and the wings are released."

Harry winced, that sounded unpleasant.

"I believe the wings are retracted in the opposite manner," the headmaster explained.

There was of course something else that occurred to Harry as he did his best to assimilate the whole explanation. He did not really want to ask, but he had learnt painfully that not having all the information was worse than knowing the truth.

"Will the wings be the end of it?" he asked quietly.

"Quite possibly, my boy," the headmaster replied, "but there is no way to be sure. You are the strongest wizard the Potter line has ever seen and hence you are the first to ever display this level of integration with your heritage. I would suggest that we leave crossing any further bridges until they arise."

At least on that point Harry agreed with him.