~~~~SS~~~~

Wednesday, 13th November, 1996

"You have to tell him, Severus!" Minerva bellowed at the defense professor the second the door to his office closed behind her.

Apparently, although Albus had explained the soul fragment issue to Minerva after Harry's magical testing earlier that night, she felt the need to reprimand him about it before they started their normal follow-up to the test in his office. Now that the Transfiguration Professor knew about Harry being a Horcrux for the Dark Lord's soul, it would allow him to speak more freely with her about the situation than in their previous sessions, which would give them a better view of the situation in its entirety. That was, of course, assuming he survived her wrath first.

Harry started his next round of chemotherapy tomorrow, this one was a double with another following on Friday - a fact that did not help the Gryffindor's ever declining mood as this would be the second week in a row that he missed his Thursday and Friday classes - and therefore his magical testing fell right in the middle of the week. As Severus had expected, as a whole, the exam did not go as well as the first couple did and he suspected Harry knew it hadn't either. Tonight they were able to see just how much magical loss Harry had been experiencing without the unintentional magic aiding him, and it was not looking good for the Gryffindor. The professor's theory on the different levels of the medications hitting the "block" appeared to be correct, as the young wizard had not experienced any of the unintentional magic since starting phase two; which he would discuss with Minerva about after his unofficial scolding.

"Of course we are planning on telling him," Severus indignantly said. "I simply want to confirm the presence of the soul fragment first. Dare I say he has enough in his mind as of late and does not need this on top of it all, at least without any context."

"And in the meantime you've been letting him sit and ruminate over the loss of his magic?" She retorted astonishingly. "I don't know if you'd noticed Severus, but the boy has been more than a little down this week. He could use some good news, no matter how unsure you are on it!"

"That fact has, indeed, come to my attention, Minerva," he growled. What more did she want from him?!

Severus completely understood where she was coming from, although her anger was a little displaced. Since his conversation with Alton and Albus, he had been contemplating telling Harry at least about the block. Once he had Minerva's confirmation on his theory about the medication levels, he would essentially have all he needed to give at the least a high level explanation to the Gryffindor that something - he didn't need to spell out what that was exactly - was blocking and possibly preserving his magic. The last obstacle stopping him from already explaining all of this to Harry was his declining mood. While Severus was almost certain the reaction would be one of elation, to know they had some kind of plan, albeit not necessarily a good one, to potentially save some of his magic, he couldn't be completely sure. It very well could go the other way, and push Harry further towards his breaking point. And with two more days of chemotherapy coming up, he definitely didn't want to take the risk.

"It's probable, Severus," Minerva stated after reading through his notes on the different medications levels. She leaned back in her chair, getting comfortable for the tough conversation ahead of them. "There are a lot of unknowns and assumptions you are making though. Even if you confirm the presence of the soul fragment, we don't know for certain that it can protect the rest of his core and that the chemotherapy won't just take all of it anyway. Just because he hasn't seen any of the new magic now does not mean there isn't another equally plausible reason that has nothing to do with protecting his extra core."

"If that's the case, then we really have nothing to lose," he argued back pessimistically. "It's really this simple, Minerva: he either will gain access to both cores at once and the chemotherapy will do what it wants or, if my hypothesis is correct, we can shift the focus while he's going through the highly toxic medications coming up, from the block to his main magical source, and then perhaps he can get through the rest of chemotherapy with it protected until we can remove the soul fragment."

It made perfect sense to him; if they could get through phase three of consolidation with the block intact, then he would have a good chance of keeping his new magic. Researching ahead, maintenance phase would be the same medications he was taking now, spaced even further apart - which made sense given the current phase was also called Interim Maintenance - and therefore should react the same as now.

"And how do you think Harry will feel being left with completely raw, untrained magic?" She added, almost as an afterthought. "He'll have to relearn his entire spell-education."

"Which as you previously pointed out," he pushed himself forward over his desk to appear more powerful, "is a bloody lot better than being a squib or dying!"

There was a tense pause that covered the small office between the two people most responsible for Harry's well being. Both wanted to do what was best for the child they were entrusted with, yet neither knew what that entailed.

"How are you, Severus?" The elderly witch eventually asked him with an insightful expression.

This had taken an odd turn. He could admit that it had been unfair to throw those words back at her face, but deep down it felt good to him. Here he was trying as hard as he could to balance every aspect of both his and Harry's life, and that didn't even count Draco and his debacles, and he felt like he was failing at all of it lately. So how did she think he was doing?

"It's been… stressful the last couple of weeks," he finally answered, surprising even himself with his honesty.

Minerva gave him a sympathetic smile, the same one she gave Harry that Severus knew the teen hated. Apparently that had been the answer she wanted to hear.

"If it would help you," she continued, "I can arrange for Harry to spend the next two nights at my quarters. I'll stay with him for his treatments and you can get some rest, or caught up with whatever it is you're working so feverishly on."

Somehow that was the nicest thing anyone had offered for him, a fact that in itself was slightly pathetic, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Harry's mood anymore than it already was. At the same time, he had been the sole caregiver to Harry since July, and suddenly Severus was whisked away to the conversation he had with Minerva in the Great Hall where he managed to convince her that he should get Harry to a Healer. That all seemed like another lifetime ago, yet he wouldn't change a thing. How could a situation be so damaging to himself, yet he would do it again in a heartbeat?

"Let me discuss it with Harry," he eventually said as the guilt filled him up like a brick in the pit of his stomach, "and I will let you know tonight."

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry woke up the first day of his back-to-back chemo unknowingly in the same gloomy mood he'd been in for weeks. The Gryffindor knew that what Snape had explained was for the best, but that didn't stop the negativity from settling into him over the idea that he would be doing the two treatments in Professor McGonagall's quarters instead of in the place he now called his home. Sure, he'd technically been given a choice in the matter last night, except if Snape had the "very secret Order potion" - as Harry was now referring to it - that needed his attention until Saturday, then it ultimately was better for him to be elsewhere. The whole situation still made him feel a bit like a sick child getting passed off between his divorced parents.

Guess that's better than dead parents.

Harry shook his head, as if trying to push away the invasive thought. This morning, Professor McGonagall was getting the rundown from Snape on all of Harry's tablet medications and how to make his smoothies, while he was trying to eat as much breakfast as he could with his still almost non-existent appetite. Had he been in a different frame of mind, it would have been quite humorous to the young wizard.

"I am positive I can read a schedule by now, Severus," McGonagall called out, aggressively pulling the piece of parchment with the list of his medication times - including his tablet antiemetic and morphine that was added during chemo - right out of his hand. Harry got the feeling Snape was nervous for him to be away, but refused to admit it.

"You won't even know I'm gone," Harry said, trying to ease the tension between his two guardians. "You'll be locked away in your laboratory and it'll be like before I took over your space."

"Our space," Snape said it so quietly Harry wasn't completely sure he'd heard correctly. A small smile crept upon his face from the implication.

Madam Pomfrey would be meeting them upstairs in McGonagall's quarters where she would do his blood draw - which was basically a formality since it had never come back low - and start his antiemetic - also a formality since it didn't actually work - and then go get Dr. Meghan. Harry was already nervous about being in his Head of House's quarters because for some reason that seemed more taboo than when he first moved in down here, and visualizing things like the IV stand and his medications taking over her space didn't help at all.

When he'd delayed the inevitable longer than he should have, because if it dragged on any later Snape would be late to his first class, Harry went to his room to collect his bag full of things he'd packed last night. In his school bag, in addition to a few of his textbooks, he'd packed: two sets of pyjamas, an extra pair of socks, his sketching notebook with his muggle pencils, his toothbrush and toothpaste, and his red blanket; at this point that was as much for his emotional comfort as for his physical warmth. Satisfied that he had everything he needed for the two days away from home, he went to the floo where Snape and McGonagall were waiting for him, making it obvious that they'd just been talking about him when the room went completely silent then second he entered it.

"Ready, Harry?" McGonagall rubbed his shoulder as she asked him.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there," the young wizard said nervously. He could feel his face starting to flush all the way up his ears.

When his Transfiguration professor left, Harry turned a bit awkwardly to Snape.

"Good luck on the potion," he scuffed his toes against the stone dungeon floor. "Just don't let Malfoy in my room, 'kay?"

Snape gave a chuckle with a smile, and after a second of hesitation pulled Harry into a hug.

"I won't let him in your room," he said. "If you need anything the sphere will still work to contact me directly. I packed it in your bag this morning. Otherwise, Minerva knows how to interrupt me should anything come up."

"I'll be fine Severus, and I'll see you Saturday morning," the Gryffindor replied, pulling away slightly, "You better go before you're late. I know from personal experience that the defense professor doesn't take any excuses for tardiness."

With that, Harry turned and entered the floo to go to his temporary home for the next two days.

When Harry came through the floo - more like fell through as always - he was surprised by how different McGonagall's quarters were compared to his and Snape's. The layout was close to the same, but since they weren't in the dungeons the first difference he noticed was where the enchanted windows used to be, there were smaller real windows that somehow made the air around the room feel colder, although definitely less damp. Peeking through the window, he found he missed the enchanted picture that showed a more detailed view of the grounds, instead of the real view high up near the top of the castle. He wasn't entirely sure where the elderly witch's quarters were located, but he assumed they would have to be near the Gryffindor tower since she was their Head of House. How hadn't he noticed how cold and dry the air was from up here?

McGonagall's sitting room was set up much in the same way as Snape's was, with the fireplace in the center of the wall, but where the sofa and two armchairs would be back home, there were two loveseats perpendicular to the fireplace with a small rectangular table between them. The love seats were both made of a red extravagant fabric, with a pattern Hermione would later tell him was called damask, with a frilled edge Harry assumed would tickle when sitting on it.

It was very clear that McGonagall and Snape had polar opposite styles. Where Snape's quarters were dominated by the cool colors of greys, blues and greens, with towering bookcases lining the sitting room, McGonagall's quarters were decorated in the warm colors of red and ivory. The walls were made of what appeared to be ivory painted stones, and when Harry reached out to touch them, he was surprised to find that they were smoother than those that were used in the dungeons. Large red, ivory, and green floral tapestries hung almost at random on the walls around the room making it feel even more like the Gryffindor common room. As if to confuse the young wizard even further, he realized that her quarters were set up in the reverse of Snape's, with the hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom on the left, and the door to Professor McGonagall's office was to the right of the sitting room from his position by the floo. Finally, there was a doorway in the back left corner - also opposite to the one in Snape's quarters- that he assumed led to the kitchen. Overall, he hated to admit that it reminded him too much of an older version of Aunt Petunia's style of decorating and he was already missing the comfort of his home in the dungeons.

"This way, Harry," McGonagall called as she gestured to his left towards the hallway where he assumed he would be sleeping. "Your room is first on the left, followed by a lavatory, and finally my room is at the end of the hallway on the right."

Harry was feeling overwhelmed and a little scared, with no idea as to why he felt either of those. His room was decorated similar to the rest of the quarters with ivory painted walls and red floral tapestries covering three of the four walls, giving Harry the impression that this had been a guest room or extra office space. His insides filled with gratitude to think that Snape had probably rearranged his room back home from a potions storeroom to something that would make Harry more comfortable to sleep in. The room here had a large four poster bed with rich red linens that Harry immediately felt uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping - and potentially vomiting - in. As if picking up on her young charge's awkward feelings, McGonagall waved her wand and the bed was transformed into one that better resembled his from downstairs.

"Thank you," he said, placing his bag down next to the bed. "Is Madam Pomfrey here yet?"

"You are very welcome, Harry," she draped her arm around his shoulder, "Should you ever need it, you are always welcome here. Now let's get you started."

Though he was extremely nervous in that moment, Harry had no idea how comfortable he would become by the end of his two days in McGonagall's quarters, and he had even less of an idea of how important that would become later on in the school year.

~~~~SS~~~~

"Where's Potter?" Draco asked, while working with Severus on the next step of the potion Friday night.

Severus was thrilled that they only had a fortnight left until the damn potion was completed and it would be ready to test the black substance. In his mind, he didn't need the potion's confirmation for him to believe that Harry was a Horcrux for the Dark Lord, however Albus - and eventually Harry, when they made the decision to tell the teen - would want to know without a doubt before making any decisions on Harry's magic.

With the Gryffindor staying with Minerva for this round of chemotherapy, he was able to get a much clearer view of the situation then he had before. In his bed last night, he laid awake feeling guilty for both sending Harry away and lying to the teen about the reason why he had to stay with Minerva in the first place. In the midst of his guilty conscience, he convinced himself that he needed to tell Harry his theory about the Gryffindor's split magical core and he would simply have to be careful not to give him information about being a Horcrux; the fact that he had a piece of Voldemort's soul lodged alongside his own. Though he could think of an almost infinite number of reasons not to say anything until the Potion's completion, the most compelling reason to tell the Gryffindor was plain and simple; Harry deserved to know what was going on within himself. Once that decision was set in his mind - now only needing to find the right time to do it - he had taken a partial dose of Dreamless Sleep, determined to make sure he used the time Minerva had given him to get some actual rest so he could be better able to help Harry through the mental battle he'd been facing lately.

Shaking his head to bring himself back into the present brewing with Draco, he replied, "He's staying with Professor McGonagall until tomorrow morning."

"Didn't he have treatments yesterday and today?"

Using his Occlumency, Severus managed to keep the expression on his face completely neutral while inside he picked apart that statement. It wouldn't be too far out of the realm of possibility for the blonde to recognize that Harry had chemotherapy. The Gryffindor was not in his classes yesterday or today, plus Draco did not have his Potion's tutoring yesterday; or at least he assumed Minerva would have cancelled it. However, there was something about the way Draco had asked the question that sounded as if the teen had been concerned for Harry, even if it were only a little. It was progress for the Slytherin, and Severus was proud of him for it.

"He needed a change of scenery," Severus lied, "and I needed to focus on this-," he motioned to the three cauldrons around them, "-among other things."

"What's going on with him lately?" Again, the former spy picked up a touch of concern about the Boy-Who-Lived from Draco. "I'm sure you've noticed his less than sunny disposition lately?"

"We all have, Draco," he busied himself with the next set of ingredients, though they did not need to be prepared as of yet, but it gave himself something to do, "he has a lot going on right now."

"That much is obvious to everyone and his brother," the Malfoy heir declared. "Is it his magic? He's seemed a little, I don't know, distracted in our practical lesson. Honestly, I don't think the Slytherins are getting as much enjoyment out of their taunting with him like this."

"I will not be discussing Harry's magic with you," he sternly replied, although the information was helpful. He'd have to keep a closer ear on the students from his own House because it appeared like they had been leaving Harry be, however that was not true by the sounds of it, and the last thing Harry needed was another reason to withdraw into himself and his own headspace. To Draco's credit, the blonde let the subject drop.

"You'll be spending some time with Madam Pomfrey this weekend?" Severus was desperate for any deflect from Harry's attitude.

"Very subtle, Severus," the blonde flatly replied, "and yes, I'll be working with Madam Pomfrey on Sunday. When you hear people running away from the hospital wing, you'll know I'm there."

"Have some confidence, Draco," Severus reassured the blonde as he placed an alarm ward on the cauldrons. They needed to simmer for three days until the next step, which would bring them into the final stage. He was about to dismiss Draco when he added, "Keep an eye on Harry for me when he's not here. I know he's had some issues with his friends lately, and I'm concerned they won't be able to see him objectively. They've already shown countless times that they enable his inability to ask for help."

Severus could see Draco thinking about what he'd been asked to do, but the professor knew at this point neither boy would say a word against it as they both knew deep down they were starting to trust one another.

"That won't be a problem at all Severus," Draco eventually said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice that Severus couldn't quite place.

Wednesday, 20th November 1996

Harry's absence from the Great Hall at meal times was not lost on anyone in the castle, least of all Severus. The young wizard had been back to normal classes for almost a month and had yet to eat a single meal with his classmates, and at this point Severus was concerned. He'd considered talking to Dr. Swanson about how to help the young wizard through his current struggle, however Harry made it obvious that he does not like his new doctor; another observation to add to his ever-growing list of things to worry about. For a brief moment he thought about bringing Alton for a visit, in hopes of getting through to Harry as they had a rapport that would be extremely helpful in reaching the teen. He got the feeling Albus would deny the request to allow the man who betrayed them to come back into the castle.

Severus was sitting at the head table as dinner was coming to an end, watching over his Slytherins and Harry's friends at the Gryffindor table, when his thoughts were interrupted by Filius approaching him from the left.

"Ahem," the small wizard awkwardly cleared his throat, causing Severus to physically shiver as he thought back to the days of Umbridge.

"Is there something I can help you with Filius?" He asked, trying to be as polite as possible given his own frustrated mood. It wasn't until Minerva came up behind the Charms professor that he thought something could actually be wrong.

"It's… " the tiny wizard was wringing his hands as he tried to talk.

"It's Harry, Severus," Minerva filled in when it was clear the other professor wasn't going to finish his sentence.

Immediately, Severus looked around, trying to be as casual as possible. Harry hadn't come to dinner, or at least the defense professor hadn't thought he did. Perhaps he'd been attending under the invisibility cloak?

"He's missing classes," Filius finally said. "Mr. Potter missed my class yesterday afternoon and Minerva has said he missed Transfiguration on Monday."

That the last straw for Severus. It was one thing for Harry to not feel comfortable taking his meals with the rest of the student body, but he could not intentionally miss his classes.

"Are you certain?" Severus cringed as the question left his mouth. He'd beat apart another professor for assuming he couldn't keep track over which students appeared in his class at any given time. Filius and Minerva deserved the same respect.

"Of course," the small wizard kindly said, "I thought maybe he had treatment again yesterday, however when I asked Minerva, she said he doesn't have any this week."

Taking a deep breath, he thought about his options, although ultimately, he knew what he needed to do. The professor had procrastinated as much as he felt he could in hopes that Harry's attitude would lighten before he had to get too directly involved. However, he now had no choice but to address the issue.

"Would you like me to talk with him, Severus?" Minerva asked, placing a hand on his shoulder which he promptly shrugged off.

"I'll take care of it," he replied and stood to handle the sullen teenager sitting down in the dungeons below them.

With having the two days last week to finally get some decent rest, if nothing else, he approached the Gryffindor's room with a clearer mind. That didn't stop him, however, from thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. It was true that Harry could be very happy about finding out he has another set of magic that he may or may not lose, however Severus was a realist - occasionally a pessimist - and understood he could find this truth a betrayal to their trust in one another.

"Come in," came the gloomy voice from the other side of the door when he knocked, setting the tone for the conversation.

Harry was laying down in his bed with his back facing the door making it obvious the teen had no intentions on talking tonight. Severus chose to sit at the end of Harry's bed, instead of the desk, as a way to physically show him that they were on the same side right now; that Severus was there to help him.

"You're back early," Harry mumbled, without turning.

"Yes, I am," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "Did you eat?"

"Yup," Harry emphasized the pah at the end of his single word answer, unknowingly drawing more attention to the blatant lie.

Actually eating meals as another battle Severus knew he would have to face as he would likely need to start taking his own meals back in his quarters, for no other reason than to make sure the child was eating enough. Looking at Harry's thin frame laying in the bed, the professor cursed himself for not taking notice earlier and again wondered when the right time was to get Dr. Swanson involved. Harry may not have an appetite as of late, but he needed to use the long breaks between chemotherapy to gain back the weight he had lost during the last phase, and was sure to lose in the upcoming phase.

Choosing not to rise to the bait, he ignored Harry's less than eloquent choice of word, "Professor Flitwick spoke with me after dinner just now."

The Gryffindor visibly stiffened as the realization of what that meant hit him. Of course, had Harry chosen to take his meals in the Great Hall, he would have likely enjoyed seeing the very nervous, tiny professor approach the dark defense professor and have to explain his concern over Harry's absence yesterday. As it was, here they sat on separate sides of their apparent power struggle. Severus refused to fill in the unpleasant silence, and was rewarded when Harry began to speak.

"So what? It was a practical lesson that I couldn't do anyway," at this point, Harry finally turned to greet Severus and his emerald eyes were dulled with grief. "What difference does it make if I'm there or not?"

"Since you need to pass your courses for any career worth you while, it makes a big difference."

That statement seemed to spark something in the young wizard, because he sat straight up and flung his arms into the air, "I'm not stupid, alright? Why don't we just stop pretending that I'll be graduating here with all my friends, because we both know that's not going to happen! I can't pass my courses using my bloody wand backwards and I sure as hell can't take my N.E.W.T.s that way, but let's all pretend it's just fine because it's not like I'll have any magic left anyways."

There it was, the transition he knew he had to take to broach the subject he'd been avoiding. Harry was right of course. Even in the best case scenario - before they knew anything about the block or the Horcrux - if Harry was simply not using his magic to preserve it, he wouldn't have been able to graduate from Hogwarts on pace with his friends. It wasn't that simple, but Harry didn't really know that yet. Suddenly the professor questioned the role he played in Harry's current struggles about his magic, his schooling, and his friends. Had he done more damage in an effort of trying to protect him?

"You are right," Severus said, which completely threw Harry's tantrum off its balance. "You will not be able to graduate with your friends."

"Exactly," the young wizard replied, though much of his aggression dissipated at Severus's declaration.

Confusion crossed Harry's overly exhausted face, but then gave way to something that had been missing since he had returned to classes: relief. In that exact moment, Severus knew how to help Harry, and he should have done it a while ago to prevent this in the first place.

"With so much of your chemotherapy left," the professor started, hoping he'd know what to say and how to say it as he spoke, "it is unrealistic to think you will continue your magical education as usual."

"I told you-"

"Hear me out, Harry," the professor interrupted, "I've been trying to make it seem that way in an effort to keep you motivated, but I believe it's had the opposite effect."

Somehow admitting his own guilt in Harry's reaction to classes took the final steam out of the Gryffindor's angry fire burning within him.

"I don't know how to handle it," Harry closed his eyes, as if not watching Severus would help him talk about what was bothering him. The young wizard spoke in a voice so small and innocent, it broke Severus's heart to hear, "I sit in class and watch everyone else do their spellwork and I get angry… and I feel hopeless about my magic being here when this is done."

"It is not hopeless, Harry," the professor said, moving further up on the bed so he was now sitting directly in front of his young charge. This was the child he was supposed to care for, and yet somewhere - probably as he was deep in the middle of the potion - he'd missed the signs in front of him that the teen needed not only his reassurance, but his honesty. Severus had never sugar coated anything to Harry before and looking back now, by not telling Harry about his magical core, he'd sugar coated it by omission.

"You don't know that," Harry challenged.

"I know more than I've told you," he admitted. "I think I've worked out a way to give you a very good chance at keeping some magic by the time you're done with chemotherapy. It won't be easy and there's definitely some risks involved, but it's not hopeless."

The Gryffindor hung his head down and Severus thought he'd heard a sniffle, but didn't dare ask.

"Ok? What do I have to do?" Harry asked with a tremble in his voice.

"Nothing yet. We, meaning Albus, Minerva, and I, have a theory that something is blocking a significant part of your magical core," the second the words left his mouth they felt right. It was as if something locked into place and not only could he not take it back, he wanted to continue telling the child in front of him what they'd discovered about his magic.

"Is that even possible?" Harry physically recoiled backwards at the revelation, "What does that mean exactly?"

And so Severus explained the theory Minerva had uncovered about squibs having "blocked magic" and explained how his old unintentional magic had come through a little at a time as the chemotherapy appeared to be breaking it down. He went through his own theory that with this block - and he made sure to always use that word - in the way, his magic could not help fight off the Leukemia as it would have if he'd had access to his complete magical core all along, finally giving Harry the answer to how he was able to get Leukemia in the first place. That information alone seemed to help calm down some of the anxiety within the teen.

"So are you saying I have more magic in me somewhere?" Harry asked in utter disbelief, but his spirits appeared lifted for the first time in the last three weeks.

"Yes, that that is exactly what I am saying," Severus replied confidently. "It would explain the bouts of unintentional magic, which are technically more like stronger-than-usual accidental magic."

"But I don't have that happening anymore. Is that magic gone already?" His eyes averted downwards, but not before Severus could see the disappointment in them. He'd just been introduced to the whole new idea of having more magic, only to have it seemingly taken away.

"No, I'll get to what I think happened, but I believe it's still there under, it's simply unusable under the block."

The professor looked around the room trying to think of some way he could explain this complicated Magical Theory to a sixteen year old.

"I'm working on confirming that is what's happening within you," he explained carefully, wanting to give Harry as much information as possible while protecting the parts he was still unsure of, "I believe the black substance you were vomiting is a physical manifestation of this block breaking open, and the potion I'm working on will allow me to know that for certain."

"That's kind of brilliant."

"Regardless of how 'brilliant' that may seem, it does leave us in a difficult position. May I?" He picked up a muggle pencil and gestured to Harry's notebook on the desk requesting a piece of paper. Harry carefully opened the notebook - giving Severus the smallest view of the beach scene that included two people standing at the edge where the water meets the land, looking out to sea - tore out a sheet of paper and handed it to Severus. Trying to keep this as high level as possible, Severus started by drawing a large oval with about a half dozen vertical and horizontal lines throughout it.

"Let's say this is the magical core any magical person is born with. The lines going every which way represent their raw, untrained magic. As the witch or wizard grows, so does their magic," he explained and then added more lines throughout the oval. "Due to the fact that prior to starting their magical education the magic in a person's core is chaotic, it causes the spurts of random accidental magic we typically see starting between the ages of 5 and 7; most often during times of emotional outbursts or distress."

"I once disapparated to the roof of my school," Harry said with the start of a smile before he immediately frowned, "my teachers were horrified, and then I got punished for it."

The professor narrowed his eyes; he had, in fact, known of that incident. It still angered him inside because while Petunia could have made excuses for any of the other accidental magic Harry did growing up, she fully knew he could not have gotten to the roof on his own, and yet she still punished him for something he had zero control over.

"As I've said before, your mother had exceptional control over her accidental magic. It doesn't surprise me that you would as well," Severus added, then he waved his hand across the top of the paper and all the lines started arranging themselves into neat vertical rows, "Once magical education starts, a person's magic becomes more organized, and therefore the accidental magic ceases. The magic will continue to grow, albeit in a more organized manner given that it has some organization to base itself off of, until the witch or wizard is between sixteen and twenty."

He paused giving Harry time to comprehend the impromptu magical theory lesson. Satisfied that the Gryffindor was following, he then drew another oval with the same random lines right next to the completed one.

"What we believe happened with your magic is that you have a block," he drew a thick horizontal line, about a third of the way down, across the oval that was representing Harry's magical core, "and you've been training the first part of your core, while the bottom has been left untrained, and more or less, raw magic. This untouched part could not help prevent the cancer cells from taking over in your bone marrow because of the block above it.

"When you started chemotherapy, specifically phase one of consolidation, we believe the medications started breaking holes within this block," he waved his hand and small gaps appeared in the line. "It was through those gaps that you were getting spurts of very strong accidental magic. My theory is that more of your core is under the block than above it, which caused its strength."

Now Harry looked more than a little terrified, "So... If we remove the block, will my magic be strong enough to withstand whatever I lose from the chemotherapy?"

"We can hope that's the case," the professor explained neutrally, and with a wave of his hand the line disappeared combining the two parts of his core, "We could leave everything as is and my estimate is that sometime in the next phase, the chemotherapy will break down the block, along with an unknown amount of your current core, until it combines the trained and raw magic. However, the chemotherapy will then continue to deplete from the newly combined magical core at an unknown rate over the next three years, and there's a possibility you may be left with some magic at the end of all this, or you may be left with none at all."

"But?" Harry questioned anticipating Severus's hesitation.

"But, there's another option to consider," he brought the line back to his oval and darkened it, "if we were to protect the block, specifically through the next phase, and allow the chemotherapy to focus on the first part of your magical core, we could then release the block after you're through with treatments allowing you access to the entire rest of your core that was protected."

Without being able to explain the Horcrux scenario, the professor thought he'd done a well enough job explaining the situation, now it was only a matter of it making sense to Harry.

"Let me see if I follow this: we could try to preserve the second part of my core by getting the chemotherapy to leave the block alone? But it is leaving it alone now, that's why I haven't been doing any unintentional magic right? And why the black stuff disappeared?" Harry asked, highly confused.

"This is where it gets a little more complicated," he semi-honestly said. "As you are keenly aware, chemotherapy medications are not all created equal. You saw the most unintentional magic and black substance when you were doing the harshest medications of the chemotherapy in the last phase. I believe that was the time the medications could reach the deeper block, especially because you were not using your 'surface magic' at all. So now that you're doing the 'lighter medications' in phase two, this chemotherapy cannot break down the block.

"It's hard to think about this now, but the next phase is another difficult one and when I believe the block could be permanently broken. If during the next phase, you were to start using your magic regularly again, that magic will be fully used instead, and therefore leave the block alone. Then by the time you get to the easier Maintenance Phase, the block might not be touched at all or hardly touched by those medications."

This time, the professor drained the top portion of the modeled magical core and then a moment later removed the block to show only the raw magic left underneath. "Understand, it's not an exact science as this situation is a bit unprecedented."

"A bit? You think?" Harry sarcastically replied and ran his hand over his head. "And if I'm left with this chaotic mess of magic-" he pointed to what was the lower two-thirds of the oval "- how does it get organized again?"

"Without any of your current, organized magic available, you would have to retrain it," he replied, trying not to draw attention to the fact that Harry would be essentially redoing his magical education.

"You mean I'd have to relearn my spells all over again?" Harry asked exasperated, "That sounds awful! I can't do that!"

"It's better than nothing," Severus said to which Harry did not reply. To Severus, here they were at that dreaded crossroads yet again only this time Harry would have to choose between letting the magical cores combine or intentionally killing off the top core to hopefully preserve the bottom one.

After roughly five minutes of watching a wide range of emotions cross Harry's face, the teen asked the one question he refused to answer, "How did I get the block to begin with?"

"I don't know," Severus lied, feeling the guilt start to eat away at him inside.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry didn't sleep that night after Snape told him all about his magical core - or magical cores - and who could blame him? Just when he thought things couldn't get any more complicated, he was proven to be completely wrong. So instead of sleeping, he started by laying in his bed staring at the ceiling going over what it all meant to him and his situation.

On the surface, Harry was happy to finally have an answer about how he got Leukemia in the first place. Somehow in all of this, being able to tell himself that he'd gotten this awful disease because his magic was blocked calmed some of the injustice that had been building up inside of him. It wasn't that he was weak or that he was somehow destined to die. It was simply that he was born with an impairment to his magical core, like a squib was.

Of course, none of that changed the fact that the chemotherapy would still eat away at his magical core, but he did have another option now. He could trust Snape and take the risk that if he gave up his smaller magical core, it would save his larger core underneath the block. Although, for someone who needed to kill the darkest wizard in recent history, it was a big bloody risk to take. Doing some quick math in his head, he still had over three years of chemotherapy left, meaning they wouldn't remove the block - he hadn't thought to ask Snape how they planned to do that - until at least that was behind him. At that point, he'd be no better than a first year with his spellwork. He could think clearly enough to at least admit that he wouldn't have to do all of his lessons over again, just Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense, so he could probably do seven years of magical education much more efficiently. Six years. That was about how long he guessed Voldemort would continue to gain power until Harry would be able to even consider killing him. How many more people would die while he waited to get his magic retrained? And how many of those people would be his own friends? Where would that leave him and Snape if they couldn't leave the castle wards for their own safety?

It was with those intrusive thoughts that Harry finally found himself falling into a restless sleep. He dreamed about his friends dying at the hands of Voldemort while he tried to save them, except no matter how many times he attempted to use the counter curses and jinxes, they just wouldn't work. Looking down at his useless wand, he saw that it was backwards and he tried to turn it around but found it was permanently attached to his hand in that orientation. There was nothing else he could do besides watched his friends die one-by-one, with a flash of green light between each one: Dudley, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna, the entire D.A., all the rest of Wesley's, Draco, and finally Snape.

"Noooooo!" He bolted upright in his bed and instinctively reached for the wand that would at some point become useless to him. He was panting and like always his pyjama shirt was clinging to his body from sweat. It took him a solid sixty seconds to realize that he was in his bedroom, safe at home.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after a dream like that, the young wizard decided to get up and try to clear his head in the sitting room. As he left his room, he heard what sounded like a scream coming from his right. The Gryffindor knew he should continue heading to the sitting room, but instead he cautiously and quietly walked down the hallway and ended up in front of Snape's bedroom where he could hear the professor on the other side of the door. Nervously, Harry placed his hand on the door knob, turned it slowly, and opened the door. His heart was racing when he took his first step into the dark forbidden bedroom. The lanterns were all out, but there was a low fire in the fireplace across from the large four poster bed giving off just enough light to see Snape rustling around in his sleep having what appeared to be a nightmare.

I should leave, Harry thought to himself, but he wouldn't. He hated how he felt trapped within his own nightmares and he couldn't just walk away leaving Snape like that.

"Severus!" He called out from beside the bed of his mentor.

Snape was wearing a pair of black flannel pyjamas that, like Harry's had, were coated in sweat and his long black hair was thrashing across his pale face that was grimaced as if he were in pain. With as many nightmares and visions from Voldemort Harry had, he'd never considered what he looked like when someone saw him having one. His face flushed a little with embarrassment.

"Severus!" He called again, this time he reached down and grabbed Snape's arm to try to shake him awake. The physical contact worked immediately and the dark-haired professor shot up in his bed.

"Harry!" He called out and then wiped his face with his hand.

"Severus?"

"Harry," Snape repeated, this time sounding relieved to see the young wizard in front of him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and held both of Harry's upper arms, "Are you alright?"

Unable to find his voice, and having no idea why, Harry nodded his head. Again, relief came over the professor's face and the man let out the breath he'd apparently been holding, waiting for Harry to answer.

"You…" the teen started almost breathlessly, "I heard you having a nightmare, so I thought..."

"It's fine, Harry," Snape watched him intently. "Did I wake you?"

"No, sir," Harry replied a little sheepishly, "I was already up from my own nightmares."

The two wizards let a companionable silence fall over them when Harry gave a large yawn. Snape then stood, put his arm around Harry's shoulder pulling him into a side hug and said, "Why don't we go into the sitting room for a bit?"

Again, Harry nodded and allowed the man he thought of as a father lead him out of the bedroom and into the sitting room.

The clock on the mantle showed half past three in the morning; a time that he seemed to wake up far too often lately. Snape guided him to the sofa and then summoned Harry's pillow and blanket - the young wizard wondered if his own wand was still on the bedside table - and then set them onto the sofa for Harry to rest.

"What was your nightmare about?" Harry asked the question that had been on his mind since he'd walked into Snape's bedroom.

"It was a memory, not a nightmare, though I guess there's not much difference these days," the professor answered with a small shake of his head. "Lay down, Harry. I'd like you to bring up your forest, it will help you fall back asleep."

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to go back to sleep, but he obeyed anyway. Settling onto the sofa, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as he thought about his Occlumency forest. The sky was bright blue and the trees were tall and strong. He'd been practicing - although not nearly as much as he should have been lately - and it didn't take long for him to get onto his broom and start flying high above the forest canopy. The canopy was the tightest he'd ever seen, and right before he fell asleep, Harry couldn't help thinking it was somewhere he would feel safe hiding.

"Earth to Potter!" Malfoy called out at their Potion's tutoring Thursday morning. This was one of his tutoring sessions that was scheduled before lunch when he had Herbology first period in the morning and Transfiguration in the second period after lunch.

Harry had just missed the most critical step in their pretend brewing process - adding the three beetle eyes, one at a time with a three-quarter anticlockwise stir between each one - causing a pretend explosion, which in this case was a bright orange light in his face. "Congratulations, you just ended up back at the hospital wing. It's not like you don't spend enough time there anyway."

"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry said halfheartedly. Unable to concentrate, he started packing up his fake supplies back into their containers more forcefully than was necessary. "Maybe I'll see you working there next time?"

The Slytherin screwed up eyes, but let the comment go. "What's got your robes in a bunch this morning?" He asked instead.

"It's nothing," Harry sighed more dramatically than intended.

He'd had a lot on his mind after learning about his magic last night and even though he wouldn't need to make any decisions now, he couldn't stop thinking about what to do. His nightmare last night didn't help, plus something about seeing Snape having a nightmare - or memory - made him wary today.

"Clearly, it's not nothing," Malfoy started, watching Harry's brain try to work through everything, "I could name at least two things I'd be pissed off about if I were in your shoes, but somehow I doubt those would be right."

Harry stared at his classmate with a completely blank expression upon his face. He did want to talk to someone about what was going through his head, and although he knew that person shouldn't be Malfoy, he found himself wanting to tell the other teen.

Malfoy has no reason to sugar coat his answer to me.

It was the reason why he didn't talk about it to any of his friends this morning before Herbology or go with Hermione when she went to the library during their break. They would sugar coat it for him and he needed honesty right now. Even McGonagall would sugar coat it by telling him in some flowery language that he should make a decision best for himself and not pay attention to the prophesy, and then Snape would do the same without the sugar; he'd still try to cover it nicely, though.

Checking the clock on the mantle, and noticing it was almost time for lunch, he found himself asking the blonde, "Want to stay for lunch?"

"I thought you could eat in the Great Hall again? I haven't seen you there once yet."

"Is there anything Snape doesn't tell you?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Don't look so shocked," Malfoy said, walking into the kitchen where the table was already set for two, "Severus trained me in observation techniques. I've noticed things lately."

Harry gave a small growl and sat down at the table across from the Slytherin.

"At some point," he started, hoping to relieve some of the tension in his head, "I have to make a decision, but I won't have all the information I need to make an informed one. I have to... guess... what the right decision will be."

Merlin! Since when do I ask Malfoy for advice?!

"It's your magic, isn't it?" The blonde blurted out uncharacteristically with crisps in his mouth. Once he swallowed he added, "I had to put you out of your misery. Now you can talk freely; you're welcome."

Arrogant bastard.

"Would you give up all of your magic if there was a chance you would actually get more later?" Harry asked, but when he said it out loud it didn't sound quite right, though he didn't know why.

"So I'd basically place a bet with my magic and if I win I get more, but if I lose it's gone?" Malfoy casually asked, like he bet all the time. "If the Skeeter article is true about becoming a Squib, it seems like a no-brainer, even for you, Potter."

"Not quite," the Gryffindor tried again, holding back his anger from the Squib comment. "The magic your betting with would most likely be gone either way, but by placing the bet you're guaranteed to lose it. Oh yeah, and the magic you get later has to be trained again."

Based on Malfoy's confused face, Harry knew he didn't explain it even close to correctly. Deciding that if he'd already gone this far, he might as well go the rest of the way, he walked the blonde through what Snape had told him about the "block" in his magic, about the option to save the block, and about having to retrain the magic underneath. The only thing he left out were his thoughts on how the prophesy related to it all and that was because he wasn't exactly sure how much the blonde knew about it.

"Well… fuck," Malfoy swore when Harry was done with his explanation.

"Thanks," Harry smirked, deep down he felt that exact same way. "That makes me feel loads better."

"Sorry," and for once Harry got the impression that the Malfoy heir actually meant it. "So what are you going to do?"

"I asked you," Harry sarcastically said back, "that was obviously a bad choice."

"I disagree, you already look better after telling me all this shite," the Slytherin took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "I'm a Slytherin, so I would try whatever it took to keep my magic."

"What does that even mean? Do you really base your decisions on your House?"

As Harry said that he immediately paused; how many times had he pushed through something because of his Gryffindor Courage. Suddenly, Draco seemed more like himself than he'd thought before.

"Everyone does," Malfoy said, appearing a little more uncomfortable with the conversation, "and what I meant was, if there's that big of a chance of losing it anyways, what's the risk? Go with the safer bet and that's at least having some chance of having magic after all of this shite. Seriously, what would you do without magic?"

That didn't really surprise Harry, though it did give another perspective to consider. Snape was always talking about self-preservation and if Malfoy would take that route it was likely the same one Snape would take too - as a Slytherin. And of course, that last question had been in the back of his mind since all of this started.

You went into this knowing you'd lose your magic, so why is it a big deal now?

He didn't get a chance to ask the Slytherin any more about his choice because a piece of parchment popped up in front of his face with Hermione Granger written on it.

"I'll be right back," the Gryffindor said while getting up to let Hermione in, completely unaware of Malfoy's interest in how little of his lunch Harry had actually eaten.

The second the door was cracked open, his bushy-haired friend pushed her way in talking about something Harry couldn't hear at first.

" 'Mione!" He said to calm her down. "What's going on?"

"I found it, Harry!" She exclaimed holding out the book that Malfoy had lent them the other day at the library.

"Oh, well Malfoy's in the kitchen still," Harry excitedly said, "let me go get him, he wanted to hear about this too."

But when Harry turned to go get the Slytherin from the other room, Malfoy was already walking out and towards the door to leave.

"I have to run, Potter," the blonde called out from the other side of the room. If Harry didn't know how arrogant Malfoy could be, he would have thought the teen was embarrassed or nervous over something. "You can just… fill me in later."

Before Harry or Hermione could say a word otherwise, he left, leaving behind all his tutoring supplies still laying out in the sitting room.

"That was odd," Harry commented, then narrowed his eyes at Hermione's flushed face. "What's going on?"

"Erm..." The Gryffindor witch uncharacteristically stuttered, "he may have asked if he could… hang out with me… us… at Hogsmeade this weekend. You're coming, right?!"

Harry was sure his lungs would never be able to fill up with enough oxygen for his brain to fully comprehend what he'd just heard. "You… wait… what?!"

"You're coming right? To Hogsmeade on Saturday?" Her face cringed a little as she asked and Harry knew she was feeling guilty. "Do you need to sit down, Harry?"

That sounded like a fantastic idea to him. How the bloody hell did Malfoy end up asking Hermione to Hogsmeade?

"What did you say?" He asked his friend, then clarified, "To Malfoy… what did you say to Malfoy?"

"Well," Hermione was completely flustered and started talking fast like she so often did when she was nervous, "I said ok. I mean, it was already going to be me, Dudley, Ron, Lavender… And you, if you can convince Professor Snape to let you. So, what's one more? And he's helped us out with this book… Oh, Harry!"

His head was spinning when Hermione pulled out the book - from Malfoy - and opened it to a page she'd clearly marked. That was right; she'd come over to tell him that she found the answer to the Horcrux. Except, he already knew about it because Snape told him last night that the "block" was the cause of his magic not being able to prevent the Leukemia. Even Harry could make the connection that the Horcrux was obviously this block, or maybe even the container that was holding his other magic, like he originally thought.

"I found it!" She exclaimed and he stood to stand next to her again to see the text she was referring to

"Sorry, 'Mione," he said, feeling immensely guilty for not telling her and making her continue her hunt for something he already knew. "I found out..."

For the second time in less than a quarter hour, Harry felt his heart skip a beat and his lung instantly empty like he'd been kicked in the gut. Staring in front of his eyes were not the words he was expecting to read in this book:

A Horcrux is an object in which a dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul to become immortal…

Harry didn't need to be as intelligent as Hermione to be able to interpret that one, and unfortunately there was only one Dark Wizard that was already so entangled in his life.

This is not good at all, was the last thought Harry had before he hit the ground unconscious.