The day of Harry's appointment arrived with congestion and a new itching spot on his stomach. Bad enough Harry was only able to roll out of bed after Snape's third round of knocking, now he had to deal with watery eyes, sneezing, and coughing too.

The hot shower he'd had did nothing to help, either.

Harry sat, dressed and cleaned, if a little groggy, on Snape's couch, a little nervous and unsure of what to expect. Malfoy and Snape were having breakfast in the kitchen, a meal he'd had to forgo for fear he'd be sick over the toilet later.

Snape had offered to make plain oatmeal, but Harry had declined. He didn't want to risk any food right now.

Today just wasn't a very good day.

Harry's stomach roiled unpleasantly, and he leaned sideways to lie on the armrest. He wondered if he could get muggle medicine somehow. Could the oncologist get him a perscription? Would Snape actually know how to pick it up? To be fair, Harry had only ever gone to a pharmacist twice, he wasn't exactly sure how it all worked either.

And that had been because Mrs. Figg couldn't keep him when Aunt Petunia was running errands.

Harry shook the questions from his head, and closed his eyes, he couldn't do anything about it now anyway. He had another twenty minutes before his appointment, surely he could sleep for fifteen of them. Perhaps he could squelch the nausea, the floo wasn't an ideal when one felt the need to vomit.

Harry must have dozed some, because he woke to Snape shaking him awake by his shoulder.
"Up, Potter, of you'll be late."

Harry nodded to show that he'd heard, still feeling somewhat nauseated, but well enough to take the floo. He rolled himself off the sofa, yawning widely and stretching, "D'you know if Dumbledore will be there?" he asked, through his yawn. He caught Snape's look of annoyance at his lack of manners.

"The Headmaster has informed me that he will not be in attendance, likely due to matters at the Ministry."

Harry shuffled over to the fireplace, ducking inside cautiously, "The Ministry?" he inquired, waiting for Snape to step in as well with the pinch of powder.

Snape squeezed in beside him, "The new minister is curious of your whereabouts," he answered, then he threw down the floo powder and said, "Harry's ward, Hospital Wing."

Letting his mouth fall open in surprise was perhaps not the best idea, Harry thought, as the spinning came to a stop.

He'd nearly fallen flat on his face, coughing and spluttering because of the inhaled soot and the force of their stop, but Snape's arm had shot out just in time to loop around his chest and reel him back in.

"S-sorry," Harry spluttered, his vocal cords overtaken by his coughing fit.

Snape retracted his arm in favor of grabbing Harry's shoulders and steering him out of the fireplace and to the bed where he left Harry, his arm across his mouth, to sit down.

Harry's coughing sputtered to a stop, his chest searing from the effort, and his throat dry.

"Ugh," groaned Harry, flopping backwards on the bed, "This is awful."

"Indeed," Snape affirmed, and a glass of water appeared above him, floating over his nose. "Drink all of it, your aunt will be here in a few minutes, along with your oncologist. I must, however, depart, I'd rather Draco not be alone in my quarters at this time."

Harry sat up, certain he'd misheard. "Aunt Petunia's coming here again? But I thought you said Dumbledore wouldn't be here?"

Snape shook his head as though a particularly irritating bug was bothering him, "Professor Dumbledore is not the only wizard capable of fetching you aunt, Mr. Potter. I must go, see that you do as you're told."

Then he left.

Bemused, Harry finished his water, leaving his cup on the bedside table and scooting further up the bed to slip beneath the sheets.

He wondered if someone from the Order would be with his aunt, or maybe Remus had brought her. Yeah, that made sense.

Not a minute later, the floo flared again, and Aunt Petunia, wearing the yellow dress sprinkled with little white flowers that she usually wore when they were having Uncle Vernon's work-mates over, stumbled out, Nymphadora Tonks right beside her.

Aunt Petunia looked bedraggled and irate, likely because of the floo experience, but more probable was Tonk's appearance today was particularly spectacular.

"Wotcher, Harry!" chirped Tonks brightly, moving to exit the fireplace, but tripping on the small ledge and falling face first onto the cobblestones. Luckily, she caught herself expertly on her hands, no doubt used to such occurrences.

Harry laughed, shuffling out of the bed to help her up. Tonks grinned at him once she was standing, shaking out her magenta, auror robes and patting down her hair. It was bright green today and shoulder length.

"Never got the hang of those bloody things, damned nuisance," she complained, "Why can't they just make 'em flat?" She shook her head, dispelling the fall from her mind. "Anyway, let me look at you." She grasped Harry's shoulders, turning him left and right.

"Gettin' a bit skinny, eh? Better hope Molly doesn't see you, she'll shove you full of food like she did me last time I was 'round there's." Tonks yanked Harry into a hug before he could respond, "I hope you'll get better soon, kid," she murmured into his ear.

Harry nodded against her shoulder.

Tonks pulled back, sniffing and blinking, "Look at me, I'm turning into some soppy, pregnant woman! Anyway, I brought your aunt like Dumbledore asked, and I'll be back in a few hours to pick her up."

Aunt Petunia, who had been standing to the side, out of the way of danger when Tonks fell, cleared her throat and smoothed her skirt primly. "Yes, thank you," she said stiffly, trying to appear unruffled. But Harry could tell by her expression that Aunt Petunia was out of her depth and just barely holding it together.

There was an awkward moment, during which Harry wasn't sure if he should go over and hug her, or stay by Tonks, but Aunt Petunia crossed the small amount of space between them and put her rail-thin arms around him in a short, albeit comforting hug.

"Hello, Harry," she said finally, giving him a look over herself. Harry cleared his throat self-consciously, less than pleased with all the scrutiny.

"Hi, um, thanks for coming," he said, shrugging a shoulder.

Tonks clapped him on the back, "Well, looks like you're all set!" she exclaimed, smiling at both of them, she stepped back into the fireplace, gave Aunt Petunia a less than friendly once-over as she dug in her pocket, then disappeared in a flash of green flames.

Aunt Petunia's stiff posture deflated the moment Tonks was gone. "Oh, what an awful way to travel, so dirty! I thought I'd be sick, what with all the spinning."

Harry laughed, "I know, it's not my favorite either." He moved passed her to sit on the bed. Aunt Petunia pulled up a chair to sit beside him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, after a moment's pause. Harry marveled at how normal this all felt.

"Um, it sort of depends on the day, I guess," he said, scratching the back of his head as he thought, "This morning was a bit rough, but I was fine yesterday." He shrugged, "I'm always tired though, that never changes."

Aunt Petunia nodded, crossing one leg over the other neatly, "Your mother was often tired. She told me once it was like having a cold."

Harry blinked at the unprompted mention of his mother, that would take some getting used to.

"It is. Sort of like a cold or a fever. Would you happen to know the name of the doctor that's supposed to come here today?" Harry wondered, it was likely a long shot, but Dumbledore or Tonks might have said something to her.

"No, I was only told that he was like Lily."

The confusion must have shown on Harry's face, for Aunt Petunia amended her words, "In that he has no magical family members. I can't remember what your professor called it. Something with an M."

Oh, "Muggleborn?"

"Yes, that's it." Aunt Petunia nodded, "Shouldn't he be here by now? It's almost," she checked her wrist watch, "Ten past-"

A roar from the floo interrupted her, and out stepped the most doddery old man Harry had ever seen.

"I say, sorry old chap, getting away from the office can be a challenge at times, especially with those spell-confused, addle-pated, medi-wizards they let into Mungo's these days, don't know what-"

Harry watched as the man pat soot from his clothes, going on about why he was late. The man wore a white lab coat over slacks and an argyle jumper, his hair was pearly white and sticking straight up all around his head, but his shoes were really what caught Harry's attention. They were red. Not reddish-brown, not maroon. Bright red. Like the red that Aunt Marge thought made her lips look good.

Satisfied with his appearance, the old man looked up from his clothes, his eyes large and sparkling blue behind his spectacles.

"Er, hello?" said Harry, unsure of how he should act. He tried to catch Aunt Petunia's eye, but she was standing and staring at the doctor.

Harry almost groaned. She wouldn't say anything insulting to his face, would she?

"I'm Harry's aunt, Petunia, you must be his oncologist?"

"Ahem, yes, Petunia?" He stuck his hand out to shake hers, "John's the name, John Peters, I'm one of the few muggle-versed medi-wizards over at St. Mungo's, don't know if Albus told you already, but I'll be seeing your nephew until he's in tip top shape again!"

Harry pushed himself off the bed, and stood beside Aunt Petunia, "I'm Harry," he said, hoping that the doctor, medi-wizard, whatever he was supposed to call him, wouldn't make a fuss over his scar.

"Harry! So sorry I'm late, we'll get right down to business, you can call me Doctor or John, none of this Mister, or medi-wizard, or sir nonsense. I'm old enough as it is! I'll just get my paperwork, and we'll take a look at your case together, eh?"

Dr. John pulled his wand and what appeared to be a small object from his pocket, which he set on the desk in the corner. With a quick wave, the object was enlarged briefcase, another, and the desk was in the middle of the room, one chair on the doctor's side, and two on Harry's.

"Sit down, sit down, I'll just take a moment to organize, mother always told me to keep my stuff clean as a child. Never listened, not a whit, shoulda known it'd come back and haunt me." Dr. John kept up a commentary as he organized small stacks of papers on the desk, before sliding his bag to the floor. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he looked at Harry, who sat biting his lip, not altogether certain about what was done in these types of situations.

Dr. John folded his fingers together on top of the desk, "Now, Harry, shall I just give you an overview on what these papers say? Or would you like to go through them bit by bit. I have no qualm with either, but I believe that all the scientific mumbo-jumbo will do nothing good for you. For later reference, you may, of course, have your own copies, but for today, what would you like?"

Harry considered the options carefully, he could feel Aunt Petunia watching him. The whole situation was strange, he didn't know what was right or wrong, and he wasn't sure if Aunt Petunia did either. Did adults just automatically know what to do?

But this was a decision he should make for himself, usually know one was there to look to for advice anyway. "Erm, just an overview, I think."

"Excellent!" Dr. John pulled in his chair more, fiddling with his papers. "Well then, it says here in your test results that you have stage IIB Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Now, there are a few different types, but yours in particular is called Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma."

Harry tried to look like he wasn't a complete dunderhead, and that he knew what at least some of it meant.

The doctor, seemingly sensing his struggle, leaned forward a little, "Now Harry, I understand you are new to this subject, and that you haven't had very much time to do any studying of your own, how about I just walk you through what all this means?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, "Yeah, sure."

Dr. John smiled kindly, "First, Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma is a cancer of the lymphatic system, which is the part of the body's immune system, and helps us fight off diseases. Now, lymph fluid flows through your lymph nodes and filters out anything harmful, and the lymph fluid contains lymphocytes which grow in your bone marrow, which have two types; B-cells and T-cells. Are you following me, Harry? Feel free to ask me any questions or interrupt me, I do tend to babble."

"No, I got it, yeah. Thanks," Harry cleared his throat, he could almost hear Hermione telling him to take notes.

Nodding, Dr. John continued, "Alright, well, Lymphoma is when the B or T-cells grow in an uncontrolled way. Your cancer in particular, Harry, has no known cause, though it is slightly more common in men than in women, it is also an aggressive cancer."

Aunt Petunia held up a hand to pause the doctor's words, "Aggressive? What does that mean?" She'd asked the question before Harry could, but he nodded to show he meant to ask as well.

"Don't be frightened by the terminology, aggressive means that the cancer is fast growing, and that we need to work quickly to treat it."

Harry frowned, "So, to treat it, what do we do?"

Shuffling through papers, the doctor answered, "Ah, there are several different treatments, but the best and most effective for Diffuse B-cell is Chemotherapy."

"Chemotherapy?" Repeated Aunt Petunia, "I do believe that's the treatment Lily received. If I heard right. I was rather young at the time."

Harry looked between her and Dr. John, "Is it like, a medicine or something?"

Dr. John pulled a sheet of paper from the stack he'd been searching through, "More like or something, chemotherapy, or 'chemo' is the use of anti-cancer drugs that destroy cancer cells. It is also the main treatment for Large B-cell Lymphoma. For four to six months, a certain regimen of drugs will be inserted through a vein intravenously."

Through the port in his chest then, Harry realised. He wouldn't have to be stuck with pins multiple times, thank Merlin for small mercies. "Okay, when do we start?"

Dr. John pulled a calendar from beneath one stack of papers, "Let's see, today is August, what is it? Ah, yes, 23rd. A week from today, we'll have a team of nurses come in and set up here for you, I'll be here of course, to talk you through the process and what each drug does." He reached down beside his chair for his briefcase, "Just let me get you a- Ah! Here we are."

He passed Harry a pamphlet, "That there has everything you need to know about chemotherapy, give it a read, and when I see you next week, you can ask me all the questions you like."

Aunt Petunia leaned over to look at the pamphlet as well, so Harry passed it to her, he'd read it later when he was by himself.

Dr. John let out a sigh, "I'm afraid I must take my leave, because I'm due back at the hospital." He stood, "Do take care, Harry, and Petunia, you as well. Oh, and before I forget, a guardian should be present at your next meeting, and I am told you have two, so either will do. What a cheery rhyme!" the doctor chuckled to himself as he stepped into the fireplace. "Have a wonderful day!"

Harry sat back in his chair, completely overwhelmed.