Friday 11th, October 1996

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry didn't like her. He had absolutely no reason not to like her - she was polite, she was sympathetic, she tried really hard to understand his position, and she seemed extremely knowledgeable about his cancer - more so than Healer Smithe did, which made sense since it was her specialty - it was just a feeling he had the moment he saw her. Of course, the young wizard had really liked Healer Smithe and he ended up working with Voldemort, so apparently his judgement of character couldn't always be trusted. None of that really mattered though, because he needed a physician and she was apparently the most qualified.

Snape had arrived shortly after dinner, so shortly in fact that Harry almost hadn't finished his roast and mash in time, taking the last several bites as Snape was impatiently waiting for him in the sitting room. They were going to be meeting the new doctor up in the hospital wing where she was apparently going to be going through a whole range of tests and questions that he already had done with Healer Smithe. As much as Harry wanted to complain, the professor explained it was common for a new doctor to want their own set of information; something that was also common practice in the wizarding world too.

Harry was sitting on one of the more comfortable hospital beds with the curtain partitions shielding him from any wandering students. He was wearing his muggle jeans and a green jumper trying his hardest to wait patiently for Dr. Swanson - Harry thought he should probably get used to using her name - to arrive. His legs were swinging back and forth as his body tried to get out the nervous energy in any way possible. Snape was sitting in the chair to his right with his right leg crossed over his left at the ankle, balancing a new book Harry hadn't seen him reading before.

I wonder if Malfoy came through with the book on Dark Magic?

"Sit still," the professor said, raising just his eyes to meet Harry's. "Everything will be just fine, Harry."

"Easy for you to say," the young wizard replied, shifting his weight to try to stop his swinging legs, "what exactly does she have to do again?"

Placing the book face open in his lap, the professor gave Harry an expression he hadn't seen before, it was somewhere between patronizing and frustrating, "She will likely do a muggle physical - though I don't see why our diagnostic scan isn't satisfactory - blood work, and likely review the medications you're taking, which is why I am here."

A sudden thought jumped into Harry's mind and he felt his face flush, "Will you be here for... All of it?"

Clicking his jaw closed in thought, Snape carefully answered, "I will be here for as much or little as you'd like. As your official medical proxy, I will get the results either way, however if you're more comfortable without me here I'll step out during your exam."

The Gryffindor nodded lightly. That would save him at least a little of the embarrassment, though now that he was here waiting for her - Dr. Swanson - to show up, the idea of a female doctor was quite terrifying. What if he had a personal question he needed to ask about himself? Before he started chemotherapy, talking about the whole sterility side effect had been mortifying enough with Healer Smithe, he couldn't imagine having that same conversation with a person who didn't even share his own... He couldn't even go there now.

"And why is she becoming my doctor again?"

At this point Snape's face made it clear he was pushing his luck.

"Unless you'd like to be under the care of the man who was sending information on you directly to the Dark Lord," Snape replied sarcastically, "she was the next best option. Alton had been consulting with her on your file - anonymously, of course - since day one, and she has a younger magical brother. A muggleborn Ravenclaw who graduated the year before I started at Hogwarts and is now working in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry could feel Snape's eyes watching him for any reaction to the fact that his new doctor's brother works in the same place he got Sirius killed. It had been a while since he'd thought of Sirius in a grieving way and Harry assumed that had a lot to do with his cancer distracting him and a little to with Snape filling at least some of the void that was left by Sirius's death. It was now to the point that just hearing the location didn't open up the raw wound any longer.

"So you've made sure she's safe? Or rather, that I'll be safe?"

"Absolutely," Snape replied confidently, but both wizards knew that the Order had done the same with Alton and it didn't make one difference.

Footsteps could be heard coming up toward the curtain and Harry was amazed that they were recognizable as McGonagall's. As his official guardian, he wasn't surprised that she would be here for this. The elderly witch peered around the curtain and, satisfied that she hadn't missed anything, walked over and conjured a chair next to Snape's, who didn't even flinch when the chair popped into existence while he was focused back on whatever book he was reading. It was such an odd sight seeing his two professors pretty much stepping in like his parents.

"Good evening Harry. How are you doing?" McGonagall greeted him, taking her seat. He had seen her directly before dinner for their Transfiguration lesson and they would be going straight from this exam to his magical one, so he was a little confused by her formality.

"Erm..." Harry replied nervously, "I'm ok, I guess. A little nervous."

"I'm sure you'll be just fine."

Again, easy for her to say.

It was only another five minutes before he heard two sets of quick steps approaching the other side of the curtain, one of which he knew belonged to Madam Pomfrey and he assumed the other was Dr. Swanson's.

"There you are Mr. Potter," the medi-witch announced as she came around the curtain; Harry wasn't sure where else she had expected him to be.

"Yup," he said trying to hold in his sarcasm, "here I am."

Dr. Meghan Swanson entered directly behind Madam Pomfrey. She was a friendly looking woman that Harry guessed was in her early fifties. She had straight, shoulder length blonde hair with bright icy blue eyes behind a small set of black, plastic framed glasses. She was dressed in a knee-length black skirt with a solid soft yellow top underneath a white doctor's coat that caused Harry's anxiety to rise by simply the sight of it. His only other experience with an actual muggle doctor was when he had his port placed back in July and he hadn't liked that one either.

"Hello Mr. Potter," Dr. Swanson greeted with a smile. She did not attempt to shake his hand, likely because she would know all about immunocompromised patients. "It's nice to finally be able to put a face to the file I've been so often reading."

"Nice to meet you too, Dr. Swanson," Harry gave a small wave, "and you can just call me Harry."

"Harry," she made a note in the file the young wizard had noticed in her hands, "if Dr. Swanson is too formal for you, most of my patients call me Dr. M, Dr. Meg, or Dr. Meghan depending on their age. Unfortunately I do see a lot of younger children."

Harry frowned at that statement; how awful it would be to go through all of this and be too young to understand any of it. At least he could understand the non-medical jargon of it all and attempt at the rest of it. Before his diagnosis, he had no idea what a platelet was and now the moment he bled or bruised for any reason, it was the first word that came to his mind. The Gryffindor was sure there would never be a day where he didn't have that worry in the back of his thoughts.

Harry was brought back to what was going on around him when Snape stood up and shook Dr. Meghan's hand with McGonagall following right afterwards.

"I see here that Mr. Snape is your medical proxy," the doctor was flipping through pages of the file in her hand, "and Ms. McGonagall is your guardian?"

"Yeah," Harry responded. Calling McGonagall "Ms" instead of "professor" sounded wrong to him and he almost said so.

"Perfect. And are you alright with them staying as we go through your medical history?"

She had a serious expression on her face that prevented Harry from laughing... What medical history did she really expect to get from him beyond the Leukemia which - he naturally assumed - was already well documented. Not trusting himself to contain either the laugh or sarcastic remark, the young wizard nodded.

"Ok then let's get started," Dr. Meghan stated as she looked around the small area for a chair. McGonagall conjured one up and if Dr. Meghan was surprised, she didn't act it. "I'll start with some information about myself. My name is Meghan Swanson and I'm married with two teenage children. My younger brother Christopher is a wizard, the only one in our family, and he went to school here.

"I'm what's called a pediatric oncologist, meaning I specialize in treating a wide variety of cancers in children and adolescents. Honestly, I've never had a witch or wizard as a patient before, so please don't give me too hard of a time if I do things just a little differently. It's my understanding though that wizards don't generally get cancer, correct?"

"That is correct," Snape spoke up before anyone else had the chance to. Harry wondered what his first impression was of the muggle doctor. To Dr. Meghan's credit, she didn't question how he'd gotten it, to which Harry was grateful. However, when she asked Harry to tell her some things about himself, he flushed and stuttered.

"I... Erm," he couldn't think much about him beyond his cancer.

"Harry is in his sixth year at Hogwarts," McGonagall started and then turned back to Harry to continue.

"Erm, yeah. I want to be an Auror, which is someone who catches dark wizards," it seemed trivial to explain this to a muggle, however Dr. Meghan was listening intently to him which helped calm his nerves. "I play Quidditch; I'm the seeker, or at least I used to before..."

He trailed off and the expression that passed through Dr. Meghan's face was one of understanding. She'd had plenty of patients who needed to drastically change their lifestyle with their diagnosis and for an athlete like Harry, it would be a hard adjustment.

"Tell me a bit about your living arrangements," the doctor asked, writing something down in her notes Harry couldn't read. He didn't like where she was going with this.

"Oh, well I used to live with my aunt and uncle, but they died in a car crash this past July," he was surprised by the small touch of sorrow he had saying that out loud, "and now I live here with Professor Snape."

Dr. Meghan gave a quick glance towards the defense professor and flatly said, "I see."

Harry felt himself getting defensive over her attitude about the professor. "He's really good at keeping on top of my medications, both the tablets I take and the IV treatments."

"And what about your parents, Harry?"

The Gryffindor was momentarily confused and ashamed. He was so used to everyone knowing his history already that he forgot to include them.

"They died when I was only one. They were murdered actually," his voice was shaking because he couldn't remember a time when he had to actually explain it like that.

And so the questions continued, most of which Harry couldn't answer because as an orphan he didn't know anything about his family's health history, and he was getting frustrated at having to remind the doctor of that. He was most surprised when Snape was able to answer some very high level questions for him, like what his maternal grandparents used to do for work and the fact that his mum's dad was taking medication for a thyroid issue. For some of the other questions he committed to asking Dudley about; primarily if there was a history of cancer, specifically Leukemia, in their family.

When they got to his Leukemia history, Dr. Meghan pulled out his chart and walked Harry through all of his results. She took the time to go through them not only at a level he could understand, but also multiple times for him. Throughout the entire process Harry got the feeling that she disagreed with some of the decisions Healer Smithe had made - specifically about how involved Harry was - which did not help his opinion of her.

"It looks like you are two rounds away from finishing phase one of consolidation?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said excitedly. "Tomorrow is another IT and a one hour and then there's only one left. Healer Smithe said I could go back to classes on the 28th."

"As early as the 28th," Snape corrected, "depending on your blood counts."

Dr. Meghan gave a small chuckle, "We'll keep a close eye on your counts and make that decision as we get closer. Based on what I'm seeing, I don't anticipate any issues making the 28th.

"Now, let's go over some of the side effects you have been experiencing. I'm sure you don't want to dwell on these, so unless something major comes up, we'll go through them rather quickly."

Harry looked around the room at the adults all watching him.

"Well," he started feeling put on the spot, "I get sick just about every round and it lasts about a day... Erm I have pain just about everywhere and then sometimes in my stomach, but that's..." How could he explain his magic issue?

"It's your magic," the doctor answered for him. "It's all in your file. I see that's why you're on a pretty high dose of preemptive morphine. I'll keep that for now, but I'd like to see for myself where the pain threshold lies for you."

Harry looked over at Snape for his opinion on that assessment and relaxed when the professor gave a small nod of approval.

"Have you had any mouth sores?" Dr. Meghan jumped back in asking.

Harry nodded. It was one of the few symptoms he hadn't gone through with Snape.

"Fatigue or constipation?

The Gryffindor flushed and nodded, "Both at times."

"How about numbness or tingling in your hands or feet?"

Harry ignored the pointed look from Snape as he paused before answering, "Some tingling; mostly in my hands."

"Hair loss?"

For that one, Harry simply removed his hat and let that speak for itself. He was getting tired of all the questions.

"Any rashes or chest pain?"

The young wizard shook his head, "No, neither of those."

"Last question before the exam," Dr. Meghan put the notebook aside. "How about your diet and your sleep?"

"Well," Harry started, "most nights I sleep alright if I'm not up sick. The induction seemed to be worse than this phase. I always felt too... irritable, maybe... to sleep.

"Food is hard though; during the chemotherapy days it's mostly porridge with fruit, applesauce, avocado, smoothies - a lot of those - and I try to eat normal between rounds. It's hard because sometimes I don't have an appetite even when I'm not nauseous."

"We'll keep a close watch on your meals," the doctor said, leaning forward in a way that made Harry feel like he shouldn't be embarrassed. "There are medications we can give to help stimulate your appetite, but I like to avoid those if at all possible."

"Me too," Harry gave a small chuckle.

"The irritability from the last phase was likely due to the steroid. Let me know if it becomes an issue going forward," she said, with the sympathetic eyes Harry hated, "If you find yourself unable to sleep regularly, it can become a problem and unfortunately it's quite common with some of the later phases."

Dr. Meghan stood up and pulled out a pair of exam gloves from the bag she had been carrying.

"Next I'll be doing a quick exam and then I'd like to do your next biopsy to confirm where you're at. If everything looks ok, you won't need another one before phase two of consolidation," she took a quick glance around his bed, "Is there anyone you'd like to stay for this?"

"If it's ok, Severus can stay," he had been thinking about it and since Snape was responsible for his medical care he should stay for the exam. He also grew up in the muggle world and might have some idea what was going on.

After the embarrassing questionnaire, the exam was relatively easy. Snape ended up having to run a diagnostic scan to get his weight and height, since Dr. Meghan was surprised that Hogwarts did not have a muggle scale. Unlike Healer Smithe, the doctor spoke his height and weight out loud - 174 cm and about seven stone - which meant that somehow in all of this he managed to grow a little over three centimeters. He didn't want to think of his weight and Dr. Meghan didn't say anything about it.

Next, she had the young wizard remove his jumper so she could start with examining his port. As often as possible, Harry had been avoiding the mirror whenever he showered knowing he wouldn't recognize the image staring back at him and he was grateful neither adult mentioned his skeletal frame. Snape laid a blanket, which Harry was sure had a heating charm placed upon it, across his legs when he shivered the second his jumper was removed. Laying flat in the bed Dr. Meghan felt his port and area around it.

"Is it causing any issues? Any pain?" She asked him.

"No," he said honestly, "I don't really even notice it anymore. At least not until someone hit it a couple of weeks ago."

"I read that," she said with an anger in her voice that surprised Harry.

She took three vials of blood from his port, flushed it out and then moved on to examine his stomach. The Gryffindor was happy they decided to do this today, before his chemo tomorrow, otherwise he was sure he would have sicked up all over her. For a split second, he was going to tell her about the black vomit, however something told him not to say anything and he was pretty sure Snape would have spoken up by now if he wanted her to know about it.

Once the physical exam was completed, Harry was subjected to another bone marrow biopsy where Madam Pomfrey came back to assist. These were by far one of the worst parts of Leukemia and he would be happy when the day came that he would never be subjected to it again. After what felt like hours, Professor McGonagall came back around the curtain conjuring the chairs once again.

"Overall," Dr. Meghan started once Harry had his jumper back on and was sitting up in the hospital bed, "everything is looking as normal as can be at this point. There's nothing alarming about your reaction to the chemotherapy, your lungs are healing nicely from the pneumonia, and your port looks healthy.

"I am extremely concerned about your weight Harry. You've lost almost two stone since you started chemo in July and you started all of this on the smaller side for your height. Based on your chart, it looks like the four day rounds hit you hard and since those are now done, for now I'll leave it at keeping a close eye on how you handle the next couple of rounds before we start intervening."

"What can we do to help him not lose any more weight?" McGonagall asked with a sparkle in her eyes that Harry suspected was the start of tears.

"We can try to switch up the anti-nausea medicine and possibly the morphine to something your stomach might tolerate a little better," the doctor answered. "I'll also leave some higher calorie and protein powders to add to whatever smoothie sits the best."

She pulled out two containers and handed them both to Snape. Somehow - most likely his upset face - Harry suspected the professor thought this was something that should have been discussed before now.

"I have everything I need for today," Dr. Meghan cheerfully said packing up her bag, "Madam Pomfrey will come to collect me at the hospital tomorrow and I'll be back to do your IT and IV chemo. We'll also discuss phase two of consolidation then, if that's ok with you."

"Absolutely," Harry perked up at that statement; anything to keep this moving along.

"Try to get some sleep tonight Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you Dr. Meghan," the Gryffindor mumbled watching her walk away with Madam Pomfrey.

Initially no one knew what to do next, so Harry swung his leg over the side of the bed to put his trainers back on.

"I'm going to grab Albus and will meet you both for the magical testing," Professor McGonagall said before taking her leave around the curtain leaving Harry and Snape alone.

"What'd you think of Dr. Meghan?" Harry asked.

"She's definitely thorough," the professor said flatly, giving Harry no indication of his actual feelings.

"Ha! And she wasn't even examining you!" Harry laughed, but then turned serious, "I'm not sure how I feel about her, though. Something just seems off. Does that make sense?"

Snape and Harry walked side-by-side leaving the hospital wing on their way to the Room of Requirement.

"It makes perfect sense, Harry," Snape replied. "For one, you started all of this with Alton and that alone created a bond that's hard to break. It's going to take some time to adjust to Dr. Swanson. Not to mention, you've recently found out that your previous healer had an ulterior motive while you were in his care; this is a natural reaction."

But Harry wasn't so sure it was as simple as Snape was thinking. As much as the young wizard wanted to believe him, there was still something about Dr. Meghan that Harry just didn't like.

~~~~SS~~~~

Entering the room of requirement for Harry's second magical testing was far more relaxed than the first tests last week. Without Alton being present, they would be allowed to speak more freely about what was happening, with the exception to anything Harry should not know about yet - like the block or Horcrux.

The professor could tell Harry was also much more relaxed this time around, likely because he knew what to expect combined with the knowledge of his unintentional magic. Today he wanted to try some additional testing of this new magic to determine if it was simply his magical core manifesting itself differently, or if it was actually an expansion of his core that he could then tap into - as Minerva alluded to last week.

The room was set up much the same as it had been the previous week, the only notable exception was Alton's missing presence. Harry quickly went through all the tests from last week not including the boggart as Severus had no intentions of putting Harry through that again. With his ever-changing emotions, who knew what his boggart would turn out being this week and he didn't want to cause Harry anymore undue stress.

For Severus, the dueling was the most impressive part of the night. Magic level aside, Harry was showing an aptitude for the subject far beyond that of his peers and definitely beyond where his old Harry had been. Thinking back to this reality, it made sense that Harry had honed in on this specific discipline as he would have needed extensive knowledge specifically for the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, as well as when he was teaching his defense group. He loathed giving any credit to the imbecile Umbridge, especially after his discovery of the blood quill that still infuriated him inside whenever he saw the permanent scars on Harry's hand, however in this case there is at least some perceived good to come from the bad situation. Not taking into account this unintentional magic, if the Gryffindor didn't lose any magic, it was Severus's opinion that he could easily be trained to a level that could defeat the Dark Lord - a thought that both terrified the professor and humbled him. Severus found himself looking forward to Harry's return to his class and what he could do to help the Gryffindor expand his wand work.

By the end of the testing, Harry was drenched in sweat and looked completely exhausted - in a good way - but he managed to disarm the practice dummy on three separate occasions. It was the last round against the charmed opponent that ended up taking Harry down in the end and the defense professor had to step in.

"I still could have disarmed it, y'know," the Gryffindor said cockily.

Severus gave a small chuckle and offered his hand to help Harry up from the floor.

"I'm sure you could have, however there was no need to push you," they both took their seats back at the table with Albus and Minerva who were also looking quite pleased with Harry's performance.

"Ah Harry," Albus said jubilantly, "very well done indeed."

"Thanks sir," Harry replied, taking the towel Severus handed to him and using it to wipe his face and head clean. "So what does all this mean for my magic?"

"It means," Minerva jumped in to respond, "that we need to do some more research before we can tell you anything for certain."

Of course that was the responsible and reasonable thing to do, except Severus really wanted to test the unintentional magic and see if it can become intentionally used. One look over at Minerva told him this was not the time or place to discuss it and since he had entrusted this aspect of Harry's care into her more than capable hands, he decided not to push the subject. The Gryffindor lived with him, after all, and as a Slytherin he had no qualms about stealthily testing the magic in their home; leaving Minerva and Albus none the wiser.

"I will make sure to get this to Alton," Albus continued, "where he can also review it in detail."

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted, "why did Healer Smithe think my magic was declining last week if it doesn't appear like it is?"

The three adults looked between themselves deciding who would answer that very logical question.

As neither of his colleagues spoke up, Severus said, "Because we switched your file with one from a more advanced student. Compared to that file, as if it were your own from last year, your magic appears weaker. We will continue the subterfuge with Alton while he monitors you remotely, yet I don't see that lasting forever."

"But if he doesn't have any connection to Vold-" Severus had both noticed and appreciated Harry's recent change in using the Dark Lord's name, "you-know-who, why bother?"

"As you know Harry, one can never be too careful," Albus replied insightfully. "We need to prepare ourselves not only for the battle in front of us, but also try to anticipate what may be coming. There may come a time that Alton finds himself back in Lord Voldemort's presence and he cannot give up secrets - accidentally or intentionally - if he does not have them in the first place."

It didn't take someone as observant as Severus to know that the magical testing - specifically the dueling - had completely exhausted the Gryffindor. Once they made it back home, Harry had basically taken a shower and gone straight to bed. As Severus sat in the sitting room, there was something so familiar about the day; it was like this could have been a page pulled from his old reality. Leaning back against the tall backed armchair, he closed his eyes relishing in the quiet, hoping to Merlin it wasn't the calm before the storm.

Bringing him suddenly back to reality, his floo roared and Minerva stepped out.

"Haven't you heard of giving someone their privacy and at least announcing yourself before coming through?" He commented.

"Trust me Severus," his colleague lectured, "I am fully aware if you weren't expecting company then your floo would have been closed for visitors."

She was correct of course, yet Severus did not give her the satisfaction and instead smirked from his armchair.

"Shall we work here?" He asked. With a wave of his wand, the contents of the table before them vanished. The defense professor had no intention of moving to the office tonight, and so Minerva took a seat in Harry's usual spot on the sofa.

"I'm afraid I don't have much to report," she added, concerned. "There are few references to magical blocks that have the same characteristics as Harry is seeing. By that I mean the surges of powerful magic."

"He always was the exception to almost every rule," Severus commented in no way meaning any animosity. "Why should this be any different?"

"I'm sure there are plenty of effects we don't even know of yet caused by him surviving that killing curse," the elderly witch replied completely appalled.

You don't even know half of it.

And yet that wasn't exactly fair to Minerva. As Harry's guardian, she really should be privy to the type of information such as Harry being a Horcrux for the Dark Lord's soul. He simply did not want to be the one to tell her and be witness to her reaction.

Pulling out his ebony wand, he summoned the two phials of black substance from his laboratory and handed one to Minerva.

"What is this, Severus?" She asked inquisitively.

"Harry has been vomiting this, in increasing quantities I might add, for the past several weeks. Sometime after the start of his consolidation phase." He could not remember the first time he'd seen it, however he knew at that time it was in a much smaller quantity then his latest round.

"Have you asked Albus? Assuming you've ruled out any biological cause, he may have a better insight into any magical cause for this." She handed the phial back, now as perplexed as he was.

Naturally, he should have discussed it with the headmaster, except he had hoped to read through the two texts from the Malfoy library beforehand. Draco had sent out his letter post haste as requested and he had yet to hear back. Severus assumed that with the Dark Lord living with Narcissa, the act of collecting said books and sending them - disguised, as even possessing these specific texts could reward the owner with time in Azkaban - to Hogwarts could prove to be quite difficult.

"I've been a bit... preoccupied this week," Severus explained.

"So I've heard from just about every one of my Gryffindors," the Transfiguration professor said. "My house happens to be down quite a significant amount of house points this week; even for you. Care to tell me the sudden change?"

"Not particularly," he looked away and glared toward the fireplace and the missing trinkets from his other life. "I was attempting to prove a point."

"Well I hope you've made it!"

Trying to get back on track with Harry and not linger in his odd - but apparently more normal - behavior, he summoned his notebook full of notes on Harry's magic. Using one of Harry's muggle pens for simplicity, he added the notes from the testing earlier.

"What are your thoughts on how tonight went?" He asked his colleague.

"Exceptionally well I would say," Minerva gave a proud smile. "I don't see much of any decline in his magical ability compared to last week, even after his reaction to the treatments last Saturday. Of course, we have too small of a sample to make any significant conclusions."

"Agreed," Severus nodded. He paused momentarily considering if he should continue in his train of thought.

"You might as well ask me, Severus," the witch beckoned, "I know you well enough to know you've got something on your mind."

The defense professor narrowed his eyes, "If this block exists, what would happen should it be removed? Is it additional pure untapped magic beneath?"

"As I previously mentioned, it has been suggested that those born without magic, especially to magical families, have a block upon their cores," Minerva explained leaning back and folding her hands across her lap, "there has not been any instances reported where a block has partially hidden a core - it's only been all of the core or none of it. There has, however, been one supposed case of the block being removed, turning a squib into a full magical witch."

That was certainly interesting to the professor.

"How was this 'block' removed?" He asked using air quotes since he was not positive he believed in such a theory anyway.

"Blood Magic, unfortunately," Minerva explained. "The story goes that an ancient ritual was performed using a willing sacrifice of familia blood."

"That sounds more like dark magic," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"There is definitely a fine line between the two," Minerva agreed.

"And I take it the theory for muggleborns is a random removal of a magical block from earlier ancestry?"

The Transfiguration Professor nodded, "Something similar, yes."

The rest of his thoughts could not be shared out loud. What if the block in Harry's case was another magical soul, it was more than likely that the chemotherapy could be siphoning away some of its power instead of Harry's, thus giving him access to the rest of his actual magical core. He though back to something Alton said during the interrogation -

"I think he can tell Harry has had a difficult time with the side effects. I was called in after one particularly bad set and it appeared as if he were feeling like Harry. He was using an awful lot of different potions."

If the Dark Lord was experiencing Harry's chemotherapy side effects, it was even more likely that the fragment of his soul was impacted by the medications somehow. Now he was really anxious to get his hands on those two books; until then this was all speculation. Thinking through everything, it would also be beneficial to pay a visit to Alton in the future so he could provide more details about that observation.

We were all a little distracted last weekend.

"So then he could be doing accidental magic?" Severus asked, filling in the companionable silence that enveloped the two colleagues. "Basically it would be the rest of his untrained magic and, as the former squib would have done, he simply needs to learn to control it."

"That's assuming the muggle medications won't erase it as well once it becomes available," the Transfiguration professor sadly said. "Even though we're talking about a block now to explain these surges of strong magic, it does not change the fact that the medications will deplete his core no matter how much is available.

"Talking it through, if anything, it might possibly be better for the block to protect whatever magic is held beneath it. If the block could stay intact until closer to the end of treatment, maybe once it's finally gone Harry would still have whatever is left underneath. He would essentially start over as an untrained wizard, nevertheless that's definitely preferred to a squib. Of course, that's also assuming we had any control over this in the first place."

It was a unique viewpoint Severus could not ignore either. While he had no idea how to rid Harry of the piece of Voldemort's soul without killing Harry in the process - making this conversation a moot point to begin with - perhaps they did need to protect it so it could then protect his magic underneath.

This was definitely not a decision he could make alone and definitely not without Harry's input. Somehow this felt like they were going to be approaching another crossroads too similar to the potions versus chemotherapy one that plagued him almost daily. As everything seemed to go in this battle, things all of a sudden got a whole lot more complicated.