~~~~HP~~~~

The sun was shining through his enchanted window when Harry cracked open his eyes on Sunday morning. His head was pounding with a headache and though he was pretty sure it was due to all the thoughts running rampant in there, he knew he needed to get up and tell Snape. Pulling the bedcovers aside, he immediately noticed the IV in his port was missing, meaning Madam Pomfrey - since Healer Smithe would likely not be coming back again - had removed it sometime in the middle of the night. The port always had to be flushed with saline after each use and the young wizard hated that he had slept through something so personal.

Trying to walk carefully on his trembling legs, the Gryffindor remembered that he hadn't eaten much of anything yesterday, which could also explain why he was feeling so awful. He wouldn't be surprised if Madam Pomfrey started this morning's treatment with IV fluids even before the antiemetic and he was actually looking forward to it. Once he was ready for the day, a feat that included taking a quick shower and changing into a new pair of flannel pyjamas, he made his way into the sitting room where Madam Pomfrey was already there examining Snape. Harry paused before either adult could see him to take in the ironic scene.

Snape was sitting in his normal armchair with Madam Pomfrey tutting around in annoyance and huffing something Harry could not hear, while the professor simply gave a low growl for each response. She unbandaged his left arm and based on the professor's grimace, it was still extremely painful to him. Harry eventually decided there wasn't much else to gain from hiding out in the corridor, so he tentatively walked into the sitting room taking his own customary seat onto the sofa.

"Morning," he mumbled, meeting Snape's eyes before averting them to try and get a look at how bad the man's wound actually was.

"It will heal," Snape replied following Harry's gaze to his left arm. "Serves me right for teaching a spell like this one to the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange."

Harry's eyes widened when he recognized what the professor had said, "You actually trained the Death Eaters?"

"No, not exactly," the former Death Eater winced as the medi-witch rebandaged his arm, "this happened to be a spell of my own creation though that the Dark Lord wanted the others to know. It was made during a very dark period of my life."

"Yeah... obviously," the Gryffindor answered looking a little more pale than usual.

Again, he took a moment to recognize how lucky the Order was to have Snape on their side and not still working for the Death Eaters. Unfortunately, this brought a thought that pained him greatly - if his mother hadn't been targeted, Snape probably would not have switched sides and they would be fighting against the professor instead of with him. Who knew what could have happened then?

"Are you alright Harry?" Snape asked, bringing the young wizard back into the present.

"Yeah," he answered, rubbing the side of his head, then he brought his hand to massage the back of his neck, "I woke up with a bad headache."

Snape stood up, leaving Madam Pomfrey standing alone with the remnants of the sling she had been trying to set, and knelt in front of Harry to feel his forehead for a fever. Satisfied that Harry's headache was not due to an infection, he reached for the sling from the medi-witch.

"Poppy," he asked, kindly putting the sling back around his shoulder, "can you please run a diagnostic spell just to be sure?"

"Of course, Severus," she came over and cast her wand over the teen's head. Harry was too tired to even smile from the tickle this time.

"Nothing alarming; you definitely need food and fluids," Madam Pomfrey explained, "I think we'll start your medication after you've gotten a good chance to eat and I'll be starting an IV to hydrate you right away. No one says you need to do the four hours first thing in the morning."

Based on Madam Pomfrey's reaction, Harry got the impression that the matron disagreed with how Healer Smithe had run his chemotherapy schedule. Being that there were not really cancer treatments in the wizarding world, who was to say he shouldn't do them as close to 24 hours apart as possible? All Harry did was show up when he was told to be there... or more accurately, the healer showed up when he was supposed to be here.

"Who's going to do my blood testing now?" Harry asked once he was connected to an IV of fluids. Almost instantly, it felt like every cell in his body was perking up from the hydration and he could feel his headache start to subside.

Madam Pomfrey paused and gave Snape a thoughtful look to which the professor nodded his head. If he'd been trying to be discreet about it, then Snape had no idea how much Harry had learned about the former spy's mannerisms.

"I'll be doing that from now on," she spoke up, "I will deliver it back to the hospital where your new physician will run the results. Starting with the next round, she'll then return with me to administer your treatments."

"So does this mean that I won't get my results as quickly as the magical way?"

Madam Pomfrey gave a chuckle, drawing a small level of concern from Harry, "For these blood count tests, they'll be run the muggle way. It's actually a relatively easy process and we won't lose much time. Your bone marrow biopsies will still be processed using magic, however you have a couple of weeks until you need to do another one."

Harry nodded in understanding. What the medi-witch just explained told him more than she had expected. Yes, he'd learned he would still get his results more or less as quickly as before, but what he really learned was that Madam Pomfrey was well aware of the Healer Smithe situation. The Gryffindor wondered if he would get to see his former healer again and if so, what he would say to the man who was trying to save his life and simultaneously gave information about him to the dark wizard trying to kill him. It had to be extremely confusing for the healer and Harry felt himself feeling sorry for the predicament the man was placed in.

"I'm canceling your lessons for tomorrow and Tuesday," Snape said once they were both seated in the kitchen and Harry was eating his porridge with fruit for breakfast.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Harry sarcastically replied. "You know, I can probably still do my evening classes if chemo is done early enough."

Snape took a sip of his morning coffee and shook his head, "No you can't, because we'll be working on Occlumency at those times, assuming you're feeling up to it. I'd like to continue focusing on clearing your mind, using your forest, and then once you're beyond this difficult part of treatment, we can move onto the defensive strategies."

After everything yesterday, that actually sounded like a good use of time. Sure, he wanted to stay ahead in the theory of his classes, but he needed to keep Voldemort - and his own anxiety - out of his head to be able to focus in the first place.

"Sounds good, sir," the young wizard said, stirring his breakfast around with his spoon. "What's going to happen to Healer Smithe?"

"As I said last night, he'll still be overseeing your progress, just a little less actively and definitely more remotely," the professor explained urging the Gryffindor to continue eating.

Harry rubbed his forehead, "No... I mean, won't Vol- ... you-know-who know that he's been discovered? They'll search for him and kill him."

"Yes they will," Snape said frankly, "which is exactly why Professor Dumbledore is hiding Alton and his family at a safe house. They will not be able to locate the Smithe's nor will Alton be able to contact them."

Harry hadn't thought about the need to prevent his healer from making contact with the Death Eaters. Naturally, he had assumed that the man was being forced to spy on him when his family was taken, but the young wizard guessed they couldn't be too careful just in case he was working freely for them. This is why Snape was so good at what he did; he'd have to be in order to double cross a wizard like Voldemort for all that time.

"Madam Pomfrey will be back soon," Snape said continuing his work at the table in the genealogy book, "finish eating so you can keep your strength up today."

His bowl of porridge, the easiest food known to man, was almost mocking him. Trying not to think about how likely it was that this would come back up later, he managed to finish over half before Madam Pomfrey walked into the kitchen.

"Ready, Mr. Potter?" She asked much too cheerfully for his liking. "Your blood counts were good, so I'm ready when you are."

The Gryffindor groaned. Maybe he'd get lucky and sleep through most of the day.

Unfortunately, Harry was never lucky enough to actually sleep through the side effects of the chemotherapy. Today at least it was like his body, or maybe his magic, had simply given up fighting it and he at the very least wasn't having the extreme pain from yesterday; it was just the nausea because his body lost its familiarity with the medications.

"Do you want to try walking around?" Snape asked as Harry was fidgeting on the sofa waiting for the latest round to pass. He was almost done with the treatment and desperate for any kind of relief.

"Think it'll help?"

"Not really," the professor said, not at all attempting to sugar coat what he'd thought. Harry almost laughed at the bluntness of his answer. "If nothing else, it might help take your mind off of it, however if you're going to be sick anyway, it's certainly worth a try."

Harry hated that the man was right. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded and pushed himself up from the sofa. Immediately Snape was at his side taking a hold of Harry's left arm with his still usable right. Harry was sure if anyone were to walk in at that moment, the pair of them would either be a hysterical or extremely pathetic sight to see.

Walking definitely helped Harry momentarily ignore the feelings inside of his own body. He was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, that he was able to mentally block out a lot of the other thoughts he had been unintentionally focusing on while laying on the sofa; like his aching body and his sour stomach.

Snape was talking to him to try to help distract the teen further, however the simple act of walking was enough to do the trick. After a slow lap around the sitting room, Harry was about to start another one when he fell to his knees and began vomiting onto the floor next to the sofa. It was so embarrassing, after everything that could possibly be in his stomach was now on the floor, he sat with his back against the sofa and his head resting on top of his propped up knees to hide his face.

"Is that blood?" He heard a high pitched voice ask. Lifting his head, his vision became completely filled with Madam Pomfrey's worried face. Except, she wasn't looking at him, instead she was looking towards where he had just vomited; half of which was full of large black speckles. To Harry it looked like large pieces of black ash swimming in the vomit, a thought that almost caused him to sick up again.

"Oh yeah," Harry groaned again, having forgotten in the activity from last night that he'd asked Healer Smithe about the black stuff.

"Oh yeah?" She echoed with her hands on her hips, "what exactly does that mean, Mr. Potter?"

"I noticed that yesterday and asked Healer Smithe about it," the Gryffindor explained. Snape reached down with his good arm to help Harry up off the cold stone floor. Sitting back onto the sofa, Harry continued, "He said it wasn't blood, but he'd need to examine it. That was obviously before... Y'know, everything that happened last night."

They seriously couldn't expect him to remember everything, could they? Yet neither adult appeared liked they were going to lecture him for not mentioning it earlier to them. In fact, Snape simply gave an inquisitive expression and conjured two large phials then proceeded to collect samples of the black vomit - placing a stasis spell on them immediately - before cleaning it off the floor with a wave of his wand.

"I'll examine this later and see what I can ascertain from it," the professor said, vanishing the phials, Harry assumed to his personal laboratory.

Madam Pomfrey was already removing his chemotherapy medication and ready to start the morphine when the professor sat down in the armchair.

"What do you think it is?" The young wizard asked.

"I can't possibly know that at this time, now can I?" Snape responded casually.

"No not really," Harry agreed, "but you can have some kind of educated guess."

"I prefer not to guess," Snape explained picking up the notebook Harry had not so accidentally looked at on Friday.

"You're all set, Mr. Potter. I'll be back in a couple of hours to check the morphine," the medi-witch called packing up her bag. She turned to Snape and said, "Let me know what you find about the black substance, I'll do some searching of my own."

Harry looked up at the morphine and seriously debated if the burning pain would be worth it for the exhaustion that follows and being able to get to sleep. He shivered remembering yesterday and decided that it absolutely was not worth it.

"Are you cold?" Snape asked. He went to place his notebook on the table, but Harry stopped him.

"No, just thinking," the Gryffindor replied nervously. Every time he saw Snape with the notebook he was overtaken with guilt.

I shouldn't have looked at it.

As his stomach was starting to roil both from the chemotherapy and the guilt, a goblet of ginger ale came levitating over his head. Smiling, Harry reached up and grabbed the goblet. At some point the teen assumed he would never be able to eat or smell ginger again without immediately feeling nauseous, however right now it was exactly what his stomach needed to stop the cramping as well as to give his hands something to do.

"Thank you," Harry whispered after taking three short sips of the bubbly beverage.

"That was not me," the professor replied evenly, not at all taking his eyes off of the Gryffindor trying to judge Harry's reaction to the event.

Harry's head shot up so quickly he made himself dizzy. Did he just nonverbally and wandlessly summon that from the kitchen? Without even thinking of the incantation accio?

"I didn't..." The young wizard stopped and worried his lower lip, "Are you saying that I..."

"Yes Harry," Snape leaned over and started writing in the notebook, "that was your unintentional magic working."

"But how does it..." He couldn't even think straight right now. This was the first time he'd fully seen or recognized himself doing magic and he really had zero control over it. The panic flooded into him; he could hear the blood rushing through his ears in rhythm with the beat of his heart, "but Healer Smithe said that my magic was already erasing. And you..."

Had Severus agreed with him?

Yesterday had seemed so far away already and he couldn't be sure what Snape had said about it. After what seemed like fifteen minutes, but was probably closer to three, Snape closed the notebook and leaned over resting his right elbow on his knee trying to look as innocently as possible to the teen.

"We're not exactly sure what is going on yet, however it is my belief - and Minerva and Albus both agree - that your magic is not necessarily erasing as you may have been led to believe. Though at this point, we're unsure where it's coming from and how long it will last.

"As for what Alton said, I'm sure you can understand how... " The former spy paused, searching for the right word, "...Detrimental it would be should the Dark Lord find out about these surges of extremely powerful magic."

The Gryffindor's eyes widened again with that realization. It would be very bad. If Voldemort targeted him as a toddler when he didn't have a lick of magic, he'd do anything he could to kill Harry now... Even if this supposed magic is a fluke. It seemed as if he were destined to die any which way he looked at it.

"Why is it always me?" Harry complained. The injustice of the situation was burning within him and he needed to do something to let it escape. Doing the only thing he could think of, he stood up and started pacing, "Why am I always the exception to every fucking rule?!"

"I don't know Harry," Snape said, ignoring the use of the curse word. Snape stood up mirroring the young wizard and then held his shoulder to stop him from pacing. "As with everything else, we will figure this out. I am not a person who believes in coincidences and therefore it's more than likely all of these instances are related. We just haven't uncovered the whole picture as of yet."

It was too much; he was too exhausted to deal with this now, and quite possibly forever.

Finally Harry met Snape's obsidian eyes, the same eyes he now realized he had been focusing on as his source of strength, the same eyes that he could see the promise of tomorrow deep within. He nodded in several quick successions before replying, "Can I try to get some sleep sir? In my bedroom."

"Let me help you," the professor simply answered, wrapping his right arm around Harry's waist to help him to his bed safely.

The young wizard sat awake in his comfortable plush bed, wrapped in the plush green bedspread thinking through everything that had happened in his short sixteen year life. His parents were murdered, he was almost murdered, he was sent to live with his neglectful and abusive relatives - where they kept the biggest part of Harry a secret. And that was all before his Hogwarts years where he had the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, going to find Sirius who he thought was trying to murder him... The Triwizard Tournament and Cedric's death... The Department of Mysteries and Sirius's death... He really didn't think he could take much more.

Just as he was about to complain - strictly to himself because he was too tired to actually do anything about it - that the sun setting through the enchanted window was too bright, the window was magically turned off.

Thank you magic, he thought sarcastically. In the pitch black darkness of his dungeon bedroom, it wasn't long before Harry's eyes started to get heavy, however that didn't stop the thoughts running rampant through his head.

None of that would have happened if I'd just been killed with my parents. I'd be with them instead of suffering here.

It was a hard concept to think about, yet once it was in his head, the thought was toxic. It invaded every cell in his body and every fiber in his brain. Harry closed his eyes, completely unaware of the tears that fell from the corners. Laying there in the dark, with his body aching and nauseated from the chemotherapy - the same medications that were supposed to be saving his life - another thought popped into his head and he could almost hear that dark baritone voice directly in his ears say:

You are not alone.

Snape had told him that plenty of times, yet it took until now for it to sink in, and deep down he knew he finally believed it. Feeling embarrassed for his tangent of negative thinking, Harry started to inhale and exhale slowly. As his body started falling asleep, he kept his mind focused on only two things: first, if his magic was actually getting stronger what were the odds he could beat Voldemort before it either went back to normal or disappeared - assuming it did either of those - and second, that he trusted Snape to help get him through whatever it was he had to face coming up.

~~~~SS~~~~

How did that take such a hard turn today?

Severus had anticipated Harry waking up in a more somber mood given everything that had happened on Friday and yesterday, however he had no idea the level of distraught the teen would experience over his magic. The only benefit to Harry's stronger unintentional magic was to give him hope that maybe, just maybe, he would not lose it in the end. Then he had to go and mess things up by bringing up the Dark Lord and Healer Smithe. What an absolutely idiotic thing thing to say to a teenager in such a state.

After Harry left for his bedroom, Severus pulled out the notebook of parchment he kept to track Harry's medication schedule, side effects he was experiencing, list of chemotherapy medications, and a calendar indicating when Harry had done magic in relation to his treatments. Without a doubt, the biggest surges of magic had come during or after what Harry aptly referred to as his hell week of chemo - the five hour day followed by the three days of four hours. There had to be something about that awful combination of medications that seemed to break through - if he believed Minerva - whatever was blocking his magic.

So if there is a block, then is there pure untouched magic underneath?

If that were true, the Gryffindor was basically doing accidental magic. Albeit very powerful accidental magic that he seemed to have some type of control over since it wasn't as if he were apparating himself somewhere random or things as such. He filled up a full page of notes with all his ideas so he would remember it all once he was able to speak with Minerva again about it; likely on Friday for Harry's second magical testing.

As always, Severus checked in on Harry later that night and breathed a sigh of relief that the young wizard was fast asleep; oddly with the enchanted window turned off. With a wave of his wand, the lanterns in the corner gave an extremely small orange glow around the room, enough for Harry to see his way to the lavatory should he need it in the middle of the night, but not enough to disturb the sleep he obviously wanted by turning off the window.

With the newfound light, Severus could now see that on the floor beside the bed was the pail that had the telltale signs of being recently used. Pulling out his wand yet again, Severus quietly said accio Harry Potter's sphere and the small ball he'd kept on the fireplace mantle since Harry's pneumonia came racing into his hands. Unsure if Harry had simply not needed his assistance or didn't want to call out without the sphere, he returned it to its rightful place on the young wizard's bedside table hoping that he wouldn't need to use it.

Taking one more glance at Harry, Severus placed his right hand on the teen's chest. His ribcage was still extremely gaunt making the professor's own chest tighten, yet Severus could feel the rapid beating of Harry's heart against it. Satisfied that Harry would be alright, he left the room; choosing not to fully close the door behind him, telling himself it was just in case the sphere did not work so he would be able to hear if Harry needed him.

The professor resisted the urge to work on testing the black substance he collected from Harry's vomit earlier that afternoon. In addition to being unable to properly run through any tests with only one good arm, he truthfully wasn't sure where to start in the testing process. If it wasn't something biological, there was really only one other option.

Was it possible for dark magic to manifest itself into a physical substance?

That was the hypothesis he was needing to test and the inquiry that kept racing through his mind. Tomorrow he'd start his research and he knew exactly which texts he would need for his search. Unfortunately, neither of them were located in a place convenient for him to retrieve himself, nonetheless it just so happened he had his sixth year class first thing Monday morning.

After the conversation with Albus regarding his lack of attention towards his Head of House duties, Severus had been more cognizant of his attitude in classes at the end of last week and committed to spending more time available to the supposed needs of his Slytherins. Harry had been more than understanding to Severus's position when he explained the change of schedule over breakfast that morning - though he hadn't explained the full reasoning and the official reprimanding he'd received - except it did not help ease the professor's mind on the subject, so he had asked Molly to stay with Harry during his chemotherapy.

"Turn to page 213," he bellowed from the front of his classroom. With his left arm still hardly usable - he chose not to use the sling today to prevent appearing weak - he decided against the practical lesson he originally had planned and decided they would start going over the unforgivable curses; a subject Severus was much too familiar with and was least excited to start.

"But professor," Hermione said without raising her hand, "we've already learned about these in our fourth year."

"That's five points from Gryffindor for talking out of turn, Miss. Granger," he sternly lectured; it was the first time he took points this year for that reason, "and I am well aware of your impromptu lesson from two years ago, however your professor at the time had an ulterior motive, and therefore we will be fully reviewing them yet again.

"If anyone else feels the need to complain about the curriculum that was set by witches and wizards above your intelligence level, please find your way to the door and do. not. return."

As expected, no one stood up to leave. Today was bound to be challenging for them all.

"Can anyone tell me one of the three unforgivable curses?" He said in a monotonous voice.

The professor was surprised when not a single hand went into the air, not even Hermione's. Perhaps they had gotten more used to his sunnier disposition than he or the headmaster had thought.

"As Miss. Granger so boldly pointed out, this was already covered and yet not a single person can give me one? I find that impossible to believe," He swept through the aisles between desks, robes billowing in his wake, "Mr. Longbottom, please name one of the curses."

As expected, Neville started to shake, "Um...The... The... Cruciatus, sir."

Immediately, Severus regretted his decision to pick on this particular Gryffindor. Of course the boy picked the curse that had been used on his parents. The professor lifted his Occlumency shields to hide away his guilt over making the teen relive that fact in his own mind. His dislike of this particular student was never a secret - mostly as he could have been chosen by the Dark Lord to target instead of Harry and by extension Lily - nevertheless, he cringed at himself for the need to play this part now. While Harry at least had the reason for why his parents were killed, Neville Longbottom would never know how close he became to being in Harry's position, and why his parents had been tortured to insanity. Making the boy dwell on it was overtly cruel, and something his counterpart would have done.

"The torture curse, yes. And what does the Cruciatus do when used?" Severus acted bored with the conversation as if Neville's pain over his parents meant nothing to him.

"It... It... Causes pain..."

And that was how the rest of the class was held. With Severus going through the Unforgivables and quizzing each student on the effects of them. He made sure to emphasize that the use of any one of them will land the caster a one way ticket to Azkaban if discovered - taking a good long look around at his Slytherin's - and that there are no shields or counter-curses that can be used against them. By the end of class he'd taken away 25 total points from Gryffindor - ten of which were completely warranted as Seamus attempted to stealthily set fire to Pansy Parkinson's notes. At this point, if the Death Eater parents wanted a way to get him removed from the school, he wasn't about to make it easy for them.

"Class is dismissed," he finally called once the period was over and the bell rang. "Mr. Malfoy, please stay behind."

The other students made snickering noises as Draco was collecting his books and notes, now at a slower pace then when the bell first rang. Once the classroom emptied, his Slytherin student slowly approached his desk. Waving his hand, the classroom door closed with a loud bang that echoed across the walls.

"What was that all about, professor?" Draco boldly asked.

"Let's just say there are students keeping a close eye on me lately," he brushed off the concern; he could handle some overzealous parents who wanted to try to look good in front of the Dark Lord. "How are you today?"

Draco lifted his head a few centimeters higher, "I'm fine, sir."

There's that word again...

Unlike Harry, the blonde Slytherin never wore his heart on his sleeve and therefore getting him to open up about his experience, after the fact, would be exceedingly difficult. If he could pull it off, getting the two boys to lean on each other during their own times of distress could help them individually; they each had a unique viewpoint the other could benefit from.

"Very well, but I expect you to check in prior to dinner every night this week. If for no other reason than so I can hear you say everything this 'fine'," Severus said, tabling his thoughts and observations about the Malfoy heir for another time. "I need your assistance in another matter."

Shifting the weight of his school bag Draco gave a small frown and answered, "What do you need, sir?"

"Two specific reference books on Dark Magic from Malfoy Manor," he said, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill to write the names of the two books he was searching for. "Lucius brought them to my attention several years ago and I'm in need of them for a new research project."

That was as much information as he was willing to give the blonde. Draco had gotten very skilled at Occlumency, nevertheless compartmentalization - as Albus always preached - was the best way to guarantee secrets stay hidden. Lucius did in fact have these two texts on the properties of Dark Magic, except Severus knew about them from a conversation they'd had in his other reality and the professor was willing to bet that they were still there in this one.

"Is this for the Order?" Draco asked, quietly reading over the two titles. If the teen recognized them, he did a great job at hiding it from Severus.

"No," he replied, justifying to himself that it wasn't exactly a lie as Harry did not belong to the Order, "it's for a personal research project. Do you think you can discreetly request them? And by that, I mean the Dark Lord cannot know."

"My mother would do just about anything for me, especially now that I'm marked," the blonde said, unknowingly flexing his left forearm with a look of disgust. Severus knew that face well and it was one Draco would always have when referencing his mark. "I think she knows the Dark Lord is just trying to punish me, and her, for my father's failure last year. If that means she'll go out of her way to help me, I'm not going to turn it down."

He could always count on Draco being Slytherin to his core.

"Thank you Draco," the professor said, handing the teen a note to excuse his tardiness to his next class, "Time is of the utmost importance right now, please send your correspondence as quickly as possible."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry was frustrated because in the end, Snape not only cancelled his classes, he also refused to even let Hermione and Ron come over, claiming that Harry was so close to finishing out this phase it wasn't worth putting himself at any further risk. How could the young wizard argue with that? So he spent the final two days of his four hour chemotherapy resting in bed - between his rounds of vomiting - and working on whatever little bit of a school work he could focus on.

Snape had explained to him at breakfast Monday morning that he needed to spend more time available to his students, so Mrs. Weasley was going to be staying with him during those two days. Harry got the feeling that there was more to it than just the professor wanting to help students on their school work, but he dared not ask because it was clearly a sore topic to the man.

As promised, each of the two nights, Snape sat down with Harry to continue their Occlumency training; though it was more like mediation at this point. He was proud of himself for being able to instantly pull up his forest and his ability to focus on each of his senses as he soared through the bright sunny sky. What he noticed this time was that his landscape was filled with so much more of the small details that he either didn't have or didn't notice before. The leaves on the trees were a thick dark green and he could almost see the veins running through them; as if they were alive and waiting to protect his innermost thoughts and memories no matter what it took. The biggest change was the smell of the crisp air and the heat of the warm and bright sun, both being pulled in from his recent expedition to the Quidditch pitch last weekend. This landscape - or more accurately his mindscape - was a live manifestation of his mind and body, both of which were looking healthier than the last time he'd entered. That thought alone eased the inner turmoil he hadn't known was even there.

"You're improving," the professor said after their lesson Tuesday night and Harry beamed with pride. "Next I need you to start trying to bring this image up randomly throughout the day, while you're brushing your teeth, taking a shower, doing school work, things like that. You'll find at first the image may not be as clear as it was tonight or even like our first lesson, but the more you practice the better you'll get at it."

Harry went to bed that night feeling like he was on top of the world. His long chemotherapy was done and he only had two easier weeks left, he was almost fully caught up on his school work through last week at least, and he was making some real progress on Occlumency. Things in the dungeons were finally looking up and he was going to relish in it for however long or short it lasted.

When Wednesday rolled around, Harry woke up feeling in better spirits than he had in awhile. According to Healer Smithe - for whatever that was now worth - he wouldn't see that terrible combination of medications again until sometime in his third phase of consolidation, which meant he was now officially on the upswing to feeling more like his older self. Waking up to that thought alone was enough to get him focused on his studies, plus Wednesdays were his Transfiguration and Charms tutoring, so he'd have Hermione there with him most of the day before having dinner with his friends.

"What's up with Snape lately?" Ron asked with a mouth full of bread while he, Hermione, and Dudley were having dinner with Harry. Hermione gave the redhead a disgusted look; one Harry was so used to seeing, it calmed him to see something so normal again.

"What'd you mean?" Harry asked, taking a small bite of his Shepherd's Pie.

"He just seems more like... The old Snape," Ron said.

"The old Snape?" Dudley asked, clearly more than a little confused.

"Remember me telling you that I had a complicated history with him?" Harry replied until Ron jumped back in, taking over the conversation.

"He's back to being a total git!" Ron said incredulously. "What'd you do to him? At this rate, Gryffindor will have no points left before Halloween!"

"Why do you think it's me that's the problem?" Harry argued back, "Maybe you all deserved to lose those points? Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about, he's been fine at home."

Harry cringed the moment that last word left his mouth. Ron was already in a foul mood and he knew he'd just made it worse.

"Home?" Ron asked with an expression as if he'd been slapped in the face. "So this is your home now? First you defend that ferret Malfoy and now this?"

"Ronald," Hermione warned in a way that Harry knew they'd routinely discussed his living situation, "don't even think about it, do you hear me?"

"It's fine, Hermione, if he wants to be a prat about all of this let him," Harry said confidently. "This is my home now. I want to live here, Severus wants me to live here... don't you think it's about time I have one? Or do you just like flaunting how lucky you are to have two parents who-"

"Enough you two," Hermione yelled out. "I will not sit here and watch you both go through this again.

"Ron, get over it please. Who cares if Professor Snape wants to help Harry. Neither of us were there this summer and you should be happy your best friend has someone to depend on in addition to us. Every kid deserves parents, alright? And Harry probably does more than anyone."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry mumbled. He didn't really need her painting him like a charity case, but it seemed to get through to Ron.

"Sorry, Mate," the redhead also mumbled, at least giving Harry the courtesy to look him in the eyes. "Just sayin' Snape's back to being the greasy git and I didn't even realize how much he'd changed until this week."

That definitely gave Harry something for his mind to chew on. What if something happened and he was going back to his old personality? What if one day he woke up and didn't remember anything from his old reality or worse he doesn't remember anything from this past summer? That would be absolutely devastating to Harry.

The rest of dinner was spent mostly in awkward silence. Hermione was trying to talk Ron off the proverbial ledge and Harry was lost in his thoughts about what could be going on with Snape. The man had been distracted lately and with everything that happened last weekend, it was enough to push anyone beyond their limits. The sudden change in behavior worried the young wizard though, no matter what excuses he tried to make for his professor.

Herbology was nearly impossible for Harry to focus on that night. Without any need to use magic in this class and Potions, he should have been more attentive, but his mind kept going back to the observations Ron had made at dinner today.

Maybe he found out about the notebook?

"Harry?"

The young wizard jumped at the sound of his name combined with the feel of a hand on his right arm. Professor Sprout had obviously noticed his lack of attention to her lecture.

"Sorry professor," Harry said sheepishly, "where were we again?"

"Is everything alright, Harry?" The Hufflepuff Head of House asked. "You've seemed distracted tonight."

Harry bit his lower lip. He'd never really had much of an opinion on Professor Sprout one way or the other; she's just been his Herbology professor. For the most part, the Hufflepuffs haven't had an issue with him either, outside of the Heir of Slytherin and Triwizard Tournament issues, so maybe he could tell her what was going through his mind.

"It's nothing," he decided to go with instead, "it's stupid really. I just... I have a bit of headache tonight."

"Let's call it a night then," she said kindly closing up the books in front of them and starting to pack in the models of Snargaluff pods. "You've got a good start on these and I don't want to push you too far."

"Thank you professor," Harry felt guilty for using his illness as a way to get out of tutoring, but at the same time it wasn't fair for Professor Sprout to go through everything twice simply because he couldn't focus.

Most of the day Thursday, Harry had been going back and forth on what Ron had said about Snape and his change of behavior. Thinking back to the few times he'd actually seen Snape this week, outside of their two Occlumency lessons, Harry had managed to convince himself that the professor was a bit more "greasy git-ish" then he'd been since the beginning of the summer.

Sitting at the desk in his bedroom focusing on the rain outside his enchanted window instead of his Herbology essay, he decided he wanted another opinion on the matter at the same moment the parchment announcing Malfoy's arrival for their last Defense tutoring popped up in front of his face. Without a groan or any other negative notions, the young wizard went to the door and promptly opened it. Since their conversation on Saturday night, Harry had been surprised how easy it was to relate to the other teen and even more surprised how much he actually appreciated their new camaraderie. Oddly, Malfoy was the person who came the closest to understanding his situation.

This time, Malfoy had his hands full of books, parchment, and what looked like small people that were wiggling around in his arms. The blonde was struggling to hold onto it all in addition to his school bag slung over his left shoulder.

"Care to give me a hand, Potter?" He called out the minute Harry opened the door.

Nervously, Harry went to take hold of the small people - he could now tell there were four of them - when a bag popped in his hands. Ignoring Malfoy's odd expression, he opened the bag for the other teen who placed the models, not so gently Harry noted, into it.

"What's all this for?" Harry asked once Malfoy was set up in the sitting room.

"We learned about the Unforgivables this week," Malfoy explained poking the small model closest to him with his wand. A small wand appeared in the "toy's" - Harry called them because he'd realized these were probably a wizarding version of toy soldiers - hand.

"So..." Harry nodded his head towards the table, "They're going to demonstrate them?"

"On top of the other spells we've learned this year," the blonde explained, "Ingenious isn't it? I came up with the idea myself."

Of course he did, Harry thought, yet he was excited to see the little soldiers duel and secretly hoped they'd get to do this for every tutoring session.

Even though Harry didn't need a visual explanation - or any explanation really - of the Unforgivable curses having been personally familiar with all three, there was still some useful information he was able to learn both from the theory and watching the dueling soldiers. A small chuckle left his mouth when he thought about how different his childhood would have been growing up in a wizarding household. How much more prepared for Hogwarts would he have been if his parents had raised him with magic surrounding him all the time? The pictures in his books would have moved, his toy soldiers would duel with wands instead of guns, not to mention they'd actually move, and he could have been pretending to brew potions; though he doubted that would have changed Snape's opinion of him in that first lesson.

Thinking of Snape brought back the topic he wanted to broach with Malfoy.

"Have you noticed anything different with Professor Snape this week?" The Gryffindor asked once everything was packed up from their lesson. It had been just as exciting as Harry had expected and he was looking forward to their next lesson on Tuesday.

"In my opinion - which you did ask for by the way-" Malfoy said in a way that made Harry roll his eyes questioning if he shouldn't have asked. "- he's been off since the summer. Of course, he did have to spend it with you... so there you go, what else would you expect?"

A year ago, Harry would have taken offense to that statement, however now he could tell it was said with none of the usual malice.

"That's not exactly what I meant and you know it," Harry replied.

"Hey," Malfoy replied, lifting his hands innocently, "you asked. Seriously though, I have noticed he's been on edge lately, but it's to be expected given everything going on."

"You mean with the Smithe's?"

"Of course. Now that I think about it though, he made a strange request to me the other day..." Malfoy closed his eyes in thought, "it was Monday after class. He's interested in some obscure books on Dark Magic. Honestly surprised me that the Malfoy library would have something he didn't already know."

"Maybe it's for classes?" Harry gave a guess; in the back of his mind he didn't want it to be Snape falling back into his "old ways".

"Dunno," Malfoy shook his head uncharacteristically, "I'm going to take a look through them once my mother manages to get them to me. Without him finding out either."

Harry shivered; it would be awful to have such a dark evil wizard living with his mum. In fact, Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to stay at school if one of his family members was being targeted like that.

"So what happened between you and Professor Snape this summer?" Malfoy asked. The other teen was reorganizing the contents of his bag obviously trying to avoid looking at Harry when he asked the question.

"Things just," Harry struggled thinking of the right word, "...changed I guess. It was so gradual, I hardly even noticed it."

Nodding his head several times, Malfoy finally made eye contact and Harry could see a deep seated curiosity within the grey eyes staring back at him.

"Well," Malfoy said standing up to leave, "it wasn't so subtle to everyone else."

Harry found himself sitting on the sofa trying his hardest to keep his anxiety from taking over when Snape came bustling through the door at half past nine. The Gryffindor watched keenly as the professor went straight to his office with an armful of rolled parchment and books. Trying to focus on his Potions assignment that Professor Slughorn had just assigned at their tutoring that night, he almost laughed about how much he was turning into Hermione. Ron should consider spending every evening here and he'd have no issues getting his work done because that was all Harry really did... All he really could do at this point at least.

"Something humorous?" The dour professor asked, sitting in his armchair with a frustrated expression upon his face.

He even looks like the old Snape.

Harry furrowed his brows with a frown, "Erm..."

"Eloquent as always I see," Snape interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose while simultaneously closing his eyes.

Harry physically jerked his whole body back at the insinuation. Something had to be going on for the professor to say that with so much hatred laced within his voice. He looked up, unable to meet the professor's eyes which had snapped open at the recognition of what he'd said and how he'd said it. The man he viewed as more than a mentor was now cradling his head in his hands and his deep breaths could be heard throughout the room.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said somberly. "It just came out."

"Whatever. I'm going to go to bed sir," Harry replied, not waiting for an answer before getting up and walking out of the room, before he had a chance to do something embarrassing like cry in front of his professor.

Without even thinking, he slammed his door behind him and crawled into bed. The lanterns in each corner of his room dimmed causing Harry to panic slightly now that he knew it was his own uncontrolled - or highly controlled - magic causing it. Deciding he needed something else to focus on, he tried to feel for the magic that was so obviously coursing through him, but unlike last week when he held his wand, he could not feel a single bit of it. Was it because he was burning through his reserve of it instead of actively moving the magic through him?

He was facing away from the door when he heard it open slowly. Trying to keep his breathing even hoping to convince Snape he was asleep, he felt the bed dip just behind his lower back.

"I'm surprised the door wasn't warded locked," Snape said, placing a hand on Harry's arm. "I am sorry for what I said to you, it was not fair. "

Unsure if he wanted to speak up or continue to feign sleep, the Gryffindor stayed completely still. For the longest time, neither wizard made a sound. Harry closed his eyes tightly as images of himself sitting back in Potions class flashed before his eyes.

You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you... but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him.

His breathing rapidly increased as he fought against the negative memory. No... This wasn't the same Snape; Ron was wrong and perhaps he misheard the insult in the sitting room. Deciding he couldn't sit silent, the young wizard turned over to face Snape. The professor was staring down at the bedspread appearing deep in thought.

"What's going on?" Harry asked indignantly. "I hadn't really noticed the change until Ron mentioned something about it yesterday."

Snape lifted his head, "It has nothing to do with you. I can promise you that."

"So then why can't you tell me?" Harry sat up leaning against the back of his headboard. "Maybe I can help."

"It's not your responsibility to help me," the professor said, "I know you haven't had much experience in this, however you are the child and it is my responsibility to protect you."

Harry flushed. He definitely didn't have any experience in that as he had always taken care of himself and everyone around him. What if he wanted to help, shouldn't he at least have the option?

"I'm hardly a child," the young wizard said quietly watching the wheels going to work in Snape's mind trying to figure out how to navigate the conversation that didn't come easy to either wizard.

"No matter how old you get, you'll still be... a child to me," exhaling dramatically Snape continued, "There have been inquiries to my sudden change of demeanor, particularly as it relates to you and my Slytherins."

That revelation didn't surprise Harry one bit. After everything with Crabbe and Goyle someone was bound to complain that their Head of House was acting a little off. It wasn't fair at all though; not to Snape nor to the other students who had to sit out the professor's wrath the previous years.

Harry took a moment astonished by the idea that such a large change happened simply because in a different world Snape had adopted him. That somehow he had managed to heal whatever wound the professor had kept deep inside him all of those years; likely the grief from his mum's - Snape's best friend even after their row - death. Furthermore, that change had implications beyond only the two of them, the one change had benefited the rest of the wizarding world when Voldemort did not manage to return. Again Harry found himself pining for the world he never lived in... The world he died in. Would it have been worth dying at barely seventeen to have lived those five years without the pain from this world?

"So you have to go back to hating me and the Gryffindors." Harry said making the statement clear it was unfair.

"Not exactly," Snape narrowed his eyes in thought, "I just have to do a better job at blending the two worlds together. What did you think was going on?"

"Erm," Harry paused to give himself time to think if he should tell the professor the truth, "that you were going back to your old self? That somehow you were getting slowly replaced and you'd eventually wake up not remembering any of this."

It sounded completely mad now that he'd said it out loud.

"I don't think it works like that," Snape reassured the young wizard. "I am here now and I'm not going anywhere. As for when you return to my classroom? Before you restart classes again, I promise you we will sit down and discuss the expectations during class time. I will not let you sit and ruminate within your mind."

The idea of starting classes again flipped a switch for Harry. There was only just over a fortnight left and the thought made him smile, even if Snape had to keep up whatever appearances for his Slytherins.

"It's getting close," Harry said ready to drop the topic of Snape's old behavior, "Will I be meeting this new muggle doctor tomorrow?"

Snape gave a small smile at the transition; he'd managed to navigate yet another bump between them. "Dr. Swanson will be by after dinner, before we start your magical testing. Poppy will be transporting her every week for your treatments."

"And Healer Smithe?" While the healer technically betrayed him, Harry found himself missing the idea of him no longer overseeing his care.

"I'll be conferring with him regularly, however he will be staying at the safehouse."

That sounded an awful lot like when Sirius was required to stay at Headquarters. Basically they were imprisoning him and while it may be for his own safety, Harry was sad for the family. Healer Smithe was trying to help Harry and in the end he and his family were being punished for it.

"Get some sleep," Snape said, lifting the bedcovers to pseudo-tuck Harry in. "You have a busy day tomorrow.. two sets of tutoring, Transfiguration lesson, appointment with Dr. Swanson and then magical testing."

Harry yawned; the thought of all of that was already exhausting.

"Good night, Severus," Harry called once the professor stood to take his leave.

"Sleep well, Harry."

The young wizard had barely heard the door close before he fell into a deep sleep. The emotions from the last several days had built up inside of him and now he would be able to focus on the next step... Getting ready to go back to classes. All that had to wait a little longer though because tomorrow he was meeting his new muggle doctor and he was more nervous for that then he thought he should be.