~~~~HP~~~~

Tuesday 2nd, September 1997

"Why does Snape have me scheduled for charm revision this afternoon?" Dean called out over the table as the group of Gryffindors ate breakfast on their last, first day of classes, reviewing their new timetables. Harry leaned over to take a look at Dean's parchment and sure enough, a small missive was included - written in Snape's distinctive script - instructing Dean to arrive at his office between his last class and dinnertime.

"He's going to teach you a new spell," Harry answered with a small chuckle. He hadn't really taken Snape seriously when he said he would choose Dean to learn the sanitizing spell, but clearly he should have. It made sense, the professor wouldn't trust Neville - nor would the Gryffindor actually stand in the same room with the professor long enough to learn -, Seamus likely would skive off thinking it a joke, and while Ron would do it, there was too much negative history to put either wizard in such a position. So Dean had been the logical choice, though Harry wished he'd been able to give the other Gryffindor a heads up first.

"It's to help keep our dorm sanitized for me," Harry explained. "For the most part, I'm alright now, but it'll be more important when I come back from treatment because my immune system is really low then."

"Congratulations, Dean!" Hermione emphatically said, causing everyone around them to look at her, confused. "The fact that Professor Snape trusts you to learn such a complicated and custom spell goes to show where he thinks your magical abilities lie."

Dean did not look convinced. "Or it means if Harry gets sick, Snape has a perfectly valid reason to come and kill me."

"Let's be serious," Ron said nervously, placing his cup of pumpkin juice down with an almost trembling hand, "it's Snape we're talking about here... he doesn't need some cockeyed plan, if he wanted to kill you I'm willing to bet he could do it without anyone even blinking towards him."

"Ron!" Hermione chided, "You shouldn't say that about a professor."

"Or you'll be next on his list," Ginny added with a giggle.

Harry couldn't contain his own laugh. So far, being back among his friends had been everything he'd hoped it would be. Looking down at his own timetable, though, left him with doubts about the rest of school. His magic had been behaving - for lack of a better word - and he hoped this process of retraining would be easy and painless, so he could just focus on the things in front of him: his friends and regaining what he lost last year.

"You feeling alright, Harry?" Hermione asked across the table. "You haven't eaten much."

"Sometimes I still don't have much of an appetite," he answered, pushing around the porridge in his bowl before taking a small bite.

"Dedn't ya go runnin' this mornin'?" Seamus watched him carefully.

Maybe I don't want all of them paying this much attention, Harry thought to himself.

He nodded and was just about to tell them all about the smoothie he received with his breakfast - obviously, courtesy of Snape and probably Madam Pomfrey setting it up with the House Elves - that morning, but the owls coming in to deliver the mail distracted everyone at the table. Once again, the young wizard was brought back to the first mail call he'd seen his first year at Hogwarts. He'd been amazed at how the owls knew exactly where to go, and equally terrified one of them would splatter droppings all over his breakfast plate. Just like his first year, the new muggleborns looked up in the same awe Harry had six years ago.

"I don't know why you continue to read that garbage," Harry commented when a copy of the Daily Prophet dropped in front of Hermione.

She completely ignored the same song and dance they did each year, except last year, of course. Harry would never be able to forgive the damage Rita Skeeter had done to him over the years, and couldn't see how Hermione managed to at least forget, if not forgive. While Harry could admit to the Prophet having more than one journalist, the newspaper never seemed to care about the quality of what any of them published, making all of it pure rubbish to him.

"This is why!" Hermione angrily yelled out in the hall, folding the paper in half and slamming it down on the table across from her with so much force Ron's pumpkin juice practically fell over. He'd seen her this angry before, and each time was equally scary, but the dampness in her eyes made him take her more seriously now.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked over the paper. The top left corner had an advertisement for the latest broom, The Firebolt Millennium, and then underneath that gave the status on a group trying to overturn the ban on flying carpets - obviously not something to make her this upset. Confused, Harry kept scanning the paper until he reached a small headline near the bottom:

Remains Found in Seaside Cave!

A set of bones have been unearthed in a small cave off the coast of Devon over a week ago. No details have been provided on the age or cause of death, but a source at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has speculated that this particular cave used to be a popular site for occult sacrificial rituals. An ongoing investigation has been started, and this reporter will be sure to update as more information is provided.

"It's interesting," Harry said, questioningly, "but I don't see why you're so upset over it."

Based on the brown eyes staring menacingly back at him, that had been the wrong thing to say. Rather than trying to justify his answer, he flipped the paper back over to her and pointed to the only story on the page he could find any relevance to.

Hermione's bushy eyebrows furrowed down as she read it. "Oh," she sheepishly replied, and flipped the paper over, shoving it back in his direction. "This is what I was talking about, but that other story can't be too good either."

This time, Harry didn't have to question which article had made her so angry. Splashed on the page - at least it wasn't the front page, but he knew better than to tell her such - he saw a picture of Draco in the courtroom he knew too well from his Dementor trial before fifth year, which quickly switched to one of the Malfoy family walking free from the ministry.

Hogwarts No longer Safe?

Dangerous, Supposedly Former Death Eater Returns

By: Rita Skeeter

Term hadn't even begun when two high ranking aurors were called to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in response to a complaint made against Draco Malfoy. A third year Hufflepuff, who shall remain unnamed, has stated he 'feared for his life' after he was suddenly, and viciously, attacked exiting the train at Hogsmeade Station. Those closest to the situation have reported that while no lasting injuries were sustained by this attack, the victim required an overnight stay in the hospital wing to ensure no further damage had been caused.

Many have already begun to question how an incident such as this could be possible. The question of how one bearing the Dark Mark would be allowed to return to the school premises to continue the tirade against innocent children could only be asked to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, who has a turbulent history of allowing marked followers of Lord Voldemort into the school. As previously reported, the Malfoy family received what some call a light sentence for their crimes against humanity with a probationary period and restitution fines. Although the details of their probation sentence have not been made available for the public, given the fact Draco Malfoy remains in the school tells us there was not a zero tolerance clause attached to it. Therefore, one must ask: how many of these attacks will it take to finally get the Death Eater removed from the premises? How far will it need to go before proper action is finally taken?

So what has been done to protect these young witches and wizards? Sources have said random inspections will be completed by the two distinguished aurors assigned to this case, which will include inspection of the perpetrator's wand. We can only hope when a damaging spell is found in his wand's history, they will act accordingly to keep our children safe.

"This is bullocks!" Harry yelled, feeling the injustice for Draco fill him up inside. "She didn't even get the right person-" he looked back over the story,"- a third year Hufflepuff paints a completely different picture than a sixth year Slytherin."

"Because he's a Slytherin?" Hermione challenged, her face almost repulsed that he'd suggest such a thing.

"No," Harry argued back, "because they're housemates. Let's be honest, we're a little more… liberal... within our own house than the others."

"Except for Slytherin and Gryffindor," the bushy haired witch claimed, and as much as he wanted to, Harry couldn't exactly deny it.

"Fine," he conceded, "but she didn't say Gryffindor."

Their side of the table went silent - not that anyone would have noticed as more students arrived in the Great Hall - while the rest of their friends read through what had been written.

"What did he say, 'Mione?" Ron was the first to break their silence with his question, "Harper. Obviously he said something worse than all the shite I heard him spewing on the train for Malfoy to act like he did."

Their friend's face instantly turned a dark crimson red and she averted her eyes away from them. Harry swallowed back the pain he could feel from her as she remembered whatever had been said, and somehow he knew it had to do with her.

"You can tell us, Hermione," he reached over the table and grabbed her hand in the same way she'd done countless times for him in the past. They needed to stand with each other, and he needed her to know she didn't have to face this alone.

"I barely heard it," she began, almost in a trance. "I had gotten off the train first, and had just turned to find Draco when Harper pushed past him and said…" she steeled her emotions, and straightened her back, as if it would make it easier to admit what had been said about her, "he said, 'Let's leave him alone, guys, he's obviously pretty comfortable between his Mudblood's legs'."

Immediately, Hermione crumbled and covered her face with her hands. Harry let out a shaky breath. They'd been through a lot over the years, and unfortunately Hermione had been called many things in them, yet somehow none of it compared to what Harper said. If he'd been there to hear it, Harry knew he would have reacted the same way Draco did; or at least he'd try.

"That…" Ron grumbled, slamming his right fist into his left palm, his head shaking back and forth. "And that's why Malfoy hit 'im?"

Hermione's head snapped up, "Of course that's why! He's not a monster, Ron! I sure hope you'd do the same if someone insinuated… that... about Lavender! When are you going to get it through your thick head that he actually loves me? That someone could-"

"I know that, a'right?" Ron interrupted her, "I saw the way he was looking at you while at the wedding, ok? You can't fake that. And I'm happy he decked Harper, just wish I could've been there to help 'im."

Harry was impressed by Ron's emotional sentiment. He, too, had been watching the couple at the wedding, and not only so he could make sure to stay away from Draco as he'd promised Hermione. Having had no role model for healthy relationships, he couldn't exactly say what 'love' looked like, but it would be how he'd describe them at the wedding. The fact that Draco would risk going to Azkaban for her - twice if Harry counted his own kidnapping to save the witch's life - showed he would put her best interest over his in a heartbeat. And for Harry, that was enough to earn his respect.

Before any of them could say anything further about it, the bell signaling the end of breakfast, and the official beginning of school, rang. The group started to collect their bags when McGonagall hurriedly shuffled over to the table.

"Is everyone over here set for your classes?" She asked, touching her hair, flustered. "Are there any questions about your timetables?"

Collectively, they all shook their heads. Harry wanted to mention that, as seventh years, if they had questions the rest of their house would be doomed and she had bigger problems, but somehow he knew it would not be appreciated at that exact moment. Instead, he grabbed his bag and he got up from the table ready to get the day started.

"Harry, can you please stay a second?" McGonagall added right before he had a chance to escape.

"But professor," he complained, waving his friends goodbye, "I really don't want to be late."

"I just wanted to make sure you don't have any questions about your classroom arrangements," she raised her eyebrows in the way he always took as being in trouble.

With an audible gulp, the young wizard replied, "Erm, seems pretty straight forward. I have-" he looked at the crumbled parchment gripped in his left fist, "-Charms with the second years now."

He ignored the sympathy from his former guardian's eyes. The last thing he needed was his professors feeling sorry for him. This was his life now and he'd come to accept it, if for no other reason than it being better than the alternative.

"And there's nothing you need-"

"I'm fine, Professor," Harry stopped her. "Really, this will be good for me. At least we're not pretending everything is normal like last year. This is actually better, trust me, plus I have almost half a day free, so I'm all good. Is that all? Because I really don't wanna be late."

"Of course not,"she nodded sternly. "You let me know if anything doesn't seem right."

He frowned for a second, wondering what she meant by "doesn't seem right", but instead of asking he gave a small wave, and a smile, then took off to Charms class.

Harry raced through the corridors determined to not be tardy on his first day in this new schedule. Things today would be awkward enough - being seventeen with a class full of twelve year olds - to add losing points on top of it.

He made it into the classroom with two minutes to spare, but that didn't mean no attention was drawn to him. In hindsight, losing five points for Gryffindor might have been preferred, because then Professor Flitwick would already have had the class focused for the start of their lesson when he walked into the room instead of every student watching him make his way to find an open seat. Luckily, one near the door had been left open and Harry promptly took it and began removing his quill, parchment, book, and inkwell from his school bag; feeling too much like Hermione. The raven-haired wizard paused in his actions when the realization he'd be taking every class without Ron and Hermione hit him hard. The closest he'd have to friends in class would be Ginny and Luna in Herbology and Ginny in Potions, and somehow that didn't seem like enough.

"So it's true," a Slytherin boy called from directly across the classroom, sounding too much like Draco in their early years,"the Great Harry Potter has fallen."

Harry rolled his eyes. At five years this kid's senior, Harry refused to react, silently wondering if it were ingrained in Slytherins to naturally hate him. Either way, he'd spend two out of his five classes with this group of students, so not intentionally causing any unnecessary animosity was important to him.

"Give it up, Nott!" A Gryffindor girl - whose name Harry couldn't remember from last night's introductions - to his right spat back.

The name Nott brought Harry back to the Malfoy Manor Drawing Room. He could almost feel the older Death Eater's arms pushing against his throat and into his skin as he held Harry back. The musky smell of sweat and some herb Harry couldn't place filled his nose, pushing out the scent of parchment that he didn't even realize was so prevalent in the Charms classroom. Trying to force himself back into the present, Harry licked his lips and could have sworn he tasted the coppery blood from where he'd bitten down on Nott senior's hand. The bite had been so hard, Harry knew he'd torn off skin, but he didn't care, knowing it had been enough to get the Death Eater to release him and his wand - the wand Snape used to finally kill Voldemort.

Opening his eyes, not knowing he had closed them until that moment, he took notice of the Slytherin wizard now directly across from. The boy looked just as thin and stringy as Theodore Nott in Harry's year - whom Harry only now realized had not been in the Great Hall during the Welcoming Feast - with sandy hair matted down on his head. While he looked taller than any of the other boys in the class, he was still significantly shorter and scrawnier than Harry, proving this attitude likely came from somewhere personal rather than a typical bullying behavior.

"You related to Theodore Nott?" Harry asked, completely ignoring the accusation about his own "fallen status" in the wizard world.

"He's my cousin," Nott replied, but not until after taking a second to consider if he wanted to admit to such a fact. Behind his wall of arrogance, Harry recognized the uneasiness and grief laced in the younger wizard's voice. "You're the reason he's in Azkaban, and now look at you, a pathetic seventeen year old no better than a second-"

"That will be enough, Mr Nott," Professor Flitwick called out as he entered the classroom, taking his place standing on the stack of books to match their height. "That will be five points from Slytherin for inappropriate conduct towards a classmate."

The other students started to snicker at the quick point deduction. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have joined them, however something inside of him had changed. Points, and the house cup, seemed completely unimportant compared to the thoughts flowing through his mind: Voldemort, Azkaban, families ripped apart and grieving their loss, his own situation with his magic, and his Leukemia.

Most of the class went relatively easy for Harry. Professor Flitwick explained how the first fortnight of lessons would be spent on revisions of the more commonly used spells from first year: Lumos, Incendio, Wingardium Leviosa, Alohomora, and Diffindo. At first, Harry felt very unsure of himself knowing that during his magical testing only half of his Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa spells were successful, but as the morning went by, he quickly realized there were students still struggling with the movement and incantation pronunciation, so perhaps practicals wouldn't necessarily be too bad.

By the last quarter of the class, Harry felt ready to slam his head down on his desk, proving how different - and ultimately challenging - this experience would be for him. He expected to struggle with the practicals, but never did he anticipate how unbelievably boring relearning the incantations would be. Since his brain and hands still remembered the second year - or technically first year during the revisions - curriculum, everything they covered during the first part of class were things Harry did not need to relearn. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't need to relearn, just retrain, yet at the same time, he came to the conclusion bringing that up would only hurt him. Knowing the Board of Governors, they'd claim a practical-only curriculum did not qualify as a full-time student - similar to the theory only debacle last year - and he'd be forced to live back in the dungeons all year.

Once they were finally allowed to begin practical revision, Harry's nerves immediately started to rise. The students around him all excitedly picked up their wands and jumped into practising Lumos. For the most part, wand tips lit up in varying intensity across the room, while Harry stared down at his holly wand as if he were eyeing his closest enemy.

"Mr Potter?" The tiny charms professor called to him. "Are there any issues you'd like to discuss before you begin?"

"Erm… no, sir," Harry answered, picking up his wand.

It felt different in his hands. He'd gotten so used to not using magic, that now being forced to use it felt almost foreign to him, and not in the way he'd previously experienced after a magicless summer. This magic was different; stronger and harder to reach at the same time.

"Lumos," the older Gryffindor whispered, putting all his hope into seeing his wand tip illuminate.

"Try a little louder," the Gryffindor witch beside him said after his second failed attempt. She had dark red hair - too dark to be related to the Weasleys - set in long pigtail plaits running down both sides of her face. "Otherwise, your magic can't hear what you want it to do."

In theory, he knew she was correct, but for Harry, that hadn't exactly been true. As of his fifth year, he no longer needed to completely announce the spell in order for it to work; giving him the first peeks of nonverbal magic. Of course, he didn't exactly want to admit that in the middle of class.

"Lumos!" Harry repeated with more conviction then he'd previously used on any of these revision spells. To his surprise, the tip of his wand glowed brightly throughout the room.

"See?" The redhead nodded with a smile. "You need to show your magic that you can control it."

"Thanks," Harry replied, feeling almost foolish about not taking that simple, basic rule seriously. "Erm-" he furrowed his eyebrows trying to remember her name.

"Leilani Catts," she reminded him, then turned back to her own revision where she continued to successfully cast spell after spell.

The rest of the spells Harry tried wouldn't all come as easily throughout the lesson, but he couldn't deny that by the time he left the classroom, his outlook about his magic had been raised for the first time since his diagnosis.

Maybe this will actually work after all?

~~~~SS~~~~

Waking up in his quarters the first official day of term reminded Severus too much of his first day waking up after his son's death. Harry's lack of presence could be felt the moment he opened his eyes, only this time, he could tell himself his child was sleeping upstairs in the Tower; exactly where he should be. He would go up for breakfast - needing to hand out the timetables to his Slytherins - and the young wizard would be sitting at the Gryffindor table with his friends ready to start another school year. And while this year would be anything but typical for Harry, to the professor it seemed like it could have been the start of any other year from his old reality.

He'd arranged with Poppy and the kitchen house elves, mostly Dobby to his own chagrin, to have Harry's morning medications - the multi-vitamin, antibiotics, antivirals, and one chemotherapy tablet during the first five days of his cycle - along with a smoothie delivered to his plate each morning. The teen had been adamant on continuing to run with Dudley, and Severus could see a shift in his mental outlook the more he continued the trend - much as sketching did during his harshest treatments secluded in the dungeons - and therefore he didn't discourage the act. Per Dr Swanson's guidelines, as long as Harry could keep up his caloric intake to balance the activity, exercise would only help him; physically and mentally.

Severus barely had enough time to finish his own breakfast between handing out his students' timetables and answering too many daft first year-level questions - like how one could possibly get from the potions classroom in the dungeons to the Divinations classroom in the North Tower without being late. Considering he had six prefects to answer ridiculous things like that, it instantly put him in a sour mood, compounding onto the fact he'd not gotten a chance to talk to Harry since before the Welcoming Feast. Back in his old reality, he would go days without getting a chance to speak with his son, but that rarely happened once he'd been diagnosed, at which point they spoke almost daily. Here, he had no idea how to navigate their relationship in a seemingly normal school environment. Ultimately, he would leave it up to Harry to decide how much contact they had outside of classes and his time for treatment.

From what he could see of the Gryffindor, he looked ready for whatever his day might bring. Days like these, Harry hardly looked sick. He had energy to laugh with his friends, he wasn't overly fatigued, and he could go about life as if he wasn't constantly fighting for it. If it weren't for the tablets - too many tablets to be considered normal, even by muggle standards - he took, then they'd be able to pretend these good days were normal. Instead, Severus's mind was plagued with waiting for the bad day to follow, and it always did.

At first sight, no one else would likely be able to tell, but the young wizard was starting to fill out his uniform better than the last time he'd worn it back in January. All the work they'd collectively put into Harry gaining back his strength combined with the lack of weekly chemotherapy had started to pay off. Unfortunately, it didn't go unnoticed by Severus how little the teen had eaten for breakfast. At some point, he'd need to remind Harry the importance of keeping his weight up, and at the same time he'd check with Minerva to see if she could help arrange to have several high calorie snacks available in his dorm so he wouldn't need to go to the kitchens. While he knew Harry absolutely could get down there if he were hungry - or grab something from their meal to store for later - the professor also knew he likely wouldn't put in the effort. With such a small appetite, they'd quickly found if the snacks weren't easily and readily accessible Harry simply didn't think about eating.

Severus's first day of teaching only got worse as he went from one awful class to the next. From the first years struggling to understand the concept that Defense Against the Dark Arts consisted of more than dueling, to the fifth years - specifically the Ravenclaws - panicking unnecessarily about being ill-prepared for their O.W.L.s. due to the gaps in their previous curriculum and none of them trusting his reassurance that he would fill in said gaps in an appropriate amount of time, he found himself questioning why he'd chosen to come back to a profession he hated; especially in the course he felt less comfortable teaching. With Potions, at least he knew his lesson plans like the back of his hand and could go through the first day lecture half asleep if necessary.

As his mood continued to decline, he almost opted to cancel Dean's lesson on his sanitizing spell, however doing so would only harm Harry, so he'd get through it. Rationally, he told himself Dean was a good student and it shouldn't take him long to pick it up - he feared for the teen should it take longer than an hour. By the time he saw the students go from awkward first years to - hopefully - confident, adult seventh years, Severus had a good idea who would pass their N.E.W.T.s. in his subject, who would succeed in their career goals, and who could handle an extra assignment here or there, and Dean fell into all three of those categories. The young wizard was a silent observer, who kept his head down and focused on his work despite the chaotic environment of the Gryffindor Common Room. And while he wasn't some child genius with the answers to next month's topics, like Hermione or Draco, he quietly - unlike Harry, who always vocalized his learning - picked up the material and stored it in his head for later use. Those were the students a professor had to watch out for, because they knew more than they let on and Severus never liked to be surprised.

By the end of the day, a deep exhaustion filled Severus's core and he wondered how Harry had fared in his first day of classes. Third year defense - Harry's class - fell on Wednesdays before lunch and first thing Friday morning, so he would at least get to check in with the teen the next day. By then, hopefully he'd have some idea how his magic had reacted to its first set of organizational training.

The professor had been so lost in his thoughts between Harry's magic and trying to get ahead on his marking of summer essays - determined not to fall behind just in case he needed time off later -, he almost missed when the small pop of parchment appeared on his desk, sitting on top of the pile of essays with a distinct, curvy script of writing across it. Embarrassingly, it took the former spy a second to understand not onlythe identity of the parchment, but also where it had come from and the dual significance of its meaning: Arthur Weasley's crazed invention - the one the patriarch's entire career actively tried to prevent - actually worked, but more importantly, Mae had taken the time to call him.

Nervously, Severus picked up the palm-sized parchment and began to silently read:

Hi Severus, it's Mae… Mae Scott, just in case you know more than one Mae.

I know you're probably still in class, or finishing up your day, but I had to check that number you gave me would, in fact, ring you correctly. I mean, one could never be so sure - the whole professor thing could actually be a spy cover, after all, and you'd never be able to tell me.

Fine, you caught me, the truth is you didn't seem too keen on returning to teaching, so thought you could use a friendly voice at the end of your first day. I totally get if you're super busy keeping hundreds of students in line, but I'll be home most of the night if you get a chance to call me back.

I hope your first day went well and you weren't too hard on the kids… or maybe I should say, they weren't too hard on you, but somehow I get the feeling I was right the first way.

Anyways, I hope to talk to you soon.

Bye!

The awkwardness seeping from her message somehow broke through his bitter attitude. He found himself half smiling, half smirking, hating to admit how nice it felt to know she thought of him on the first day of term. The whole situation with the muggle nurse was everything he didn't need at the moment, nevertheless he couldn't deny that as Harry became more settled in his environment - not necessarily this year, but in the future - he'd be forced to take a less active role in the young wizard's life. He remembered Molly Weasley huffing about their home getting her children, plus Hermione for whatever reason, ready for school grieving the idea that she'd only do it one more time. Having only been a parent for five - or six with the time travel? - years, he felt wrong comparing himself to the experienced matriarch, yet he knew how she felt. At not even forty, he still had so much of his life ahead of him, and while he wouldn't look back on finishing chemotherapy with the same bittersweetness as Molly would sending Ginny off on the Hogwarts Express for the last time, it would still be a defining moment in his and Harry's life that would be ending.

Dean's knock on the Defense room office door sounded so distant, Severus wasn't sure if it had to do with the Gryffindor's nerves over this session, or because he'd been lost in his own thoughts.

"Come in," he beckoned the seventh year into his office while simultaneously placing the missive from Mae's call under the stack of essays. He'd try to make it back to Spinner's End later that night to call her back, however the first night after classes tended to be one of the busiest of the year.

"Sir?" Dean respectfully asked. "You wanted to see me after classes?"

Motioning to the chair in front of his desk, Severus watched the wizard carefully take his seat skeptically, yet open to hear whatever Severus had to say.

Training Dean on the new spell had been quicker than the professor had anticipated; taking only thirty minutes until the Gryffindor could consistently sanitize the floor space Severus had marked off to practice. Dean showed he took the responsibility seriously by staying engaged and asking all the right questions one would expect when learning a customized spell - things like finding the base root of the latin incantation and breaking down the wand motions. To say he was impressed - something Severus rarely admitted to - would be an understatement.

"Have you made a decision on your career path after Hogwarts, Mr Thomas?" Severus asked once he deemed their training complete. The professor gently pushed the papers across his desk, leaving a space for him to halfway sit on the edge, with the teen standing in front of him. The posture wasn't random, he wanted Dean to feel comfortable and he'd hoped to accomplish it by taking a less authoritarian posture.

"N-not really sir," Dean stuttered, not hiding his visible surprise by the question. "I figured I'd take whatever N.E.W.T.s I qualified for and see what my options are from there."

"That's a rather… laissez faire approach," Severus admonished. He would never allow his Slytherins to look at their coursework in such a way. Taking potentially unnecessary courses diluted the student's focus on those he or she required, therefore narrowing down the scope of potential careers was an important step. "Have you considered something in spell work? Perhaps spell creation or curse breaking?"

Dean nervously shifted his weight between his feet, but didn't break eye contact or show any other signs of being uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

"You picked up this spell extremely quickly," the professor began to explain his rationale, "you easily made all the adjustments, and asked all the right questions… such as breaking down the root of the incantation. Dare I say, not many people have an aptitude for this level of spellwork, and if Professor Flitwick hasn't told you such already, I would suggest you ask to sit down with him - or Professor McGonagall, if you're more comfortable - and see if there's a future career you'd enjoy in it."

Deciding he had nothing else to say on the matter, Severus nodded his head and made his way back behind his desk.

"You created this spell?" The Gryffindor asked as Severus took his seat, giving a swift nod in response. "I guess I never thought much about how spells are made. O-or that new ones are still being created."

"Both ends of Charms - creating and disassembling spells - can be a very rewarding career if the right opportunity is found."

"Thank you, sir," Dean told him, picking up his bag to leave. The former spy could practically hear the teen nervous heart beating from his chest. "I'll ask Professor McGonagall about it."

"You do that," Severus muttered under his breath, after the door finally closed and he found himself alone once again. He still had almost an hour until dinner time, so he closed his eyes, rubbing them with his fingertips to try and ease away the migraine he felt coming on. Unfortunately, his reprieve only lasted about a minute when another knock - more forceful this time - broke his focus. Assuming it was Dean with another question, but hoping it was Harry, the professor couldn't be any more surprised when Lucius Malfoy pushed open his door.

"You have no one to blame, but yourself, Severus," the blonde wizard said with a half chuckle, "you could have been working in the laboratory full-time rather than babysitting -" he held his pale, ring adorned hand up to stop the professor's protests, "- I am well aware of your reasonings, and they don't change the fact that you are better than this job."

"What do you want, Lucius?" Severus demanded, not up for whatever hidden agenda the other wizard might have had planned. "I'm needed in the Great Hall by dinner."

"More babysitting, I presume?"

"That part is accurate," he conceded, "at least in the Defense classroom, it's more instructing than babysitting. So what brings you here?"

"My, my, aren't we a bit wound up this afternoon," the blonde retorted, sitting down in the chair Dean had recently vacated. "Obviously, I'm here to discuss my son and the involvement of the aurors at the school. What do you make of the situation?"

"Honestly? He's lucky he didn't get arrested," Severus commented, having no luck on keeping his headache away. "As long as he keeps his head down and a close watch on his wand use, I don't expect any issues. As his Defense professor, I'll be able to make sure he's appropriately matched in any classroom practicals, and remind him to watch his use of spells. Unfortunately, Auror Williamson did not specify which spells would trigger an investigation, but it's best to assume anything more than a stupefy would at least lead to questioning."

Lucius sat back in his chair and crossed his hand over his knees. "That serious, then?"

With a nod, Severus added, "Kingsley will do what he can to keep Draco's path clear, as repayment for his assistance to the Order last year, but there is only so much he can do and I would prepare for Williamson to be the one dropping in unannounced for the status checks. As long as Draco keeps to himself and stays on the right side of legal, he should make it to the end of the year."

"I see." Somehow, the two words from the aristocrat's mouth sent shivers down Severus's spine. "I guess it's a good thing I've made… alternate arrangements."

Nothing about that statement sounded good.

"Such as?" Severus questioned, his well trained eyes never leaving Lucius's. The blonde pulled a piece of parchment out from his inner robe pocket, reminding him of the paper Mae had given him with her phone number written on it; the one safely stored in his bed side table drawer.

"I've secured a property in Hogsmeade," Lucius began, sliding the folded parchment across the desk, "there are several of my… associates securing the property around the clock with strict instructions to keep a watchful eye on Draco. Should anything arise, my son knows he can find safety there. If, for any reason you, or Harry, are in need of protection, this parchment will tell you everything you need to locate the safehouse."

A Fidelius Charm. On a property in Hogsmeade. He had too many questions: how would these associates keep track of Draco within the castle? Wouldn't that make Draco look more guilty? Of course, for as trigger happy as Williamson appeared to be in relation with the Malfoys, if anything the young Slytherin would be falsely accused before anything substantial was found.

"Thank you," the professor decided to go with instead, understanding in some cases, the less he knew the better.

"I come bearing one more piece of information," the older wizard announced, pulling out a tiny square from his robes. He placed it on the desk and enlarged it into a booklet with a nondescript black cover. "Are you still planning on coming into the lab this weekend?"

The pair of wizards proceeded to spend every available second until the dinner hour going over the details of the Malfoy Lab for Disease Research and Development and what Severus should expect on his first day. The first piece of half of the conversation focused on getting to the laboratory. Also under a Fidelius Charm - to guarantee the security of their employees and any proprietary information - the building was located on a plot of land completely owned and controlled by the Malfoy Enterprises, in the middle of the countryside. Apparently, one could gain access by apparating to a very specific set of coordinates exempt from the rest of the heavily warded area, and taking the rest of the trip by foot. The first ten pages or so of the booklet - also warded so only Severus could see its contents - gave details on the coordinates so one could successfully apparate until more familiar with the locale.

Once Severus more or less felt confident he could get to the laboratory on Saturday morning without splinching himself, they moved into the work he'd be responsible for while there. They had the laboratory set up into "pods" and his specific pod - composed of at least four other potioneers whom he may, or may not, see on any given weekend - was currently working on two projects simultaneously. Their first project was to continue to perfect the Potions regimen Harry had been on in his old reality. They'd obviously redone the section with the fatal error, but were exploring ways to make the process faster - to get the patient into remission quicker - giving it a higher rate of success.

More recently, and the part Severus was the most interested in, they started developing potions to help magical people on muggle chemotherapy better handle the side effects of their treatment. The Malfoy patriarch continued to explain - prefacing it with a warning about his lack of technical knowledge - their challenge of finding the right balance of magical use so as not to deplete the patient's magical core. Dr Swanson had emphasized, and Severus had seen first hand, how much the body weakened throughout chemotherapy, so patients who needed extended treatments were less likely to continue. Therefore, something like this would not only make life more comfortable during chemotherapy, it could also help extend therapy which would otherwise not be possible. No matter how he looked at it, this hit so close to home Severus knew it could not be a coincidence. Yet neither of them mentioned how something like this could have completely changed how Harry went through his treatments. They didn't have to, as Slytherins they both knew: this project most likely started after Lucius's visit to Spinner's End after Harry's treatment last month, and Lucius knew how much the project meant to his friend.

~~~~HP~~~~

Friday, 5th September 1997

To Harry, the Hogwarts grounds were some of the most underrated parts of the school. Everyone - himself included as a small first year - awed at the castle with its tall towers, beautiful windows and archways, enchanted staircases, and rich history pouring through the walls. When he walked the grounds, though, similar to when he moved into Snape's Spinner's End home, he knew he wasn't in Little Whinging. The mountains surrounding their plot of land creating the crisp cool air, the smell of the Black Lake, and the sounds of students enjoying their time outside before snow blanketed the grass always made him feel good inside; proof he actually escaped from the cupboard under the stairs.

The first week of classes had left Harry both physically and mentally exhausted in a way he couldn't remember feeling before. Despite how much he craved to go back up to his dorm after his last class on Friday afternoon - Herbology with the sixth years - and crawl under his warm yellow blanket, he forced himself to walk down to the lake where he already had planned to meet his friends that afternoon. Professor Sprout kept him after class to discuss the expectations for him during the year, so he wasn't surprised to find Ron, Dudley, Lavender, Ginny, and Dean already deep in conversation at the clearing under a large shade tree. Lavender, based on the size of it, looked to be wearing Ron's school robe - leaving her boyfriend in his school jumper over his half tucked in white shirt beneath it - sat against the tree trunk with Ron, Dudley, Ginny, and Dean sitting in the grass.

"There 'e is," Ron called out, beckoning Harry over to their group with a wave of his arm, "we didn't think you were going to make it."

"Professor Sprout asked me to stay after class," he told them, feeling a little resentful when Ginny nodded. Having two classes with the youngest Weasley helped make at least some of his day a little more comfortable - almost normal - but he didn't necessarily like to talk about being behind. He plopped his school bag from his shoulder onto the ground and sat down in the grass.

"You're so lucky," Lavender whined, to which Harry narrowed his eyes skeptically at her. "I'd rather end my week with Herbology. Whoever thought of Friday afternoon Defense, especially for the seventh years, is just cruel."

Harry laughed knowing Snape - and probably most of the professors - felt the same way about their last class of the week.

"Someone has to be at the end of the week, and on our end they're all equally bad," Dudley chimed in. "What's wrong with Defense? Sounds like it's at least interesting."

"It's loads better than when we ended the week with History of Magic," Harry chuckled. "What was that? Our third year?"

"I completely disagree," Ron seriously said, and just when Harry was about to argue with him, the red-head added, "I loved starting the weekend with an early nap."

The group all laughed; even Dudley who wouldn't get the inside joke having never been a part of Binns class. Though for Harry, what used to only be a boring class, would always be an awful reminder of his vision of Sirius during that class's O.W.L., but being able to look back without the searing pain in his chest definitely showed how far he'd come.

"If it weren't for Hermione," Dean laughed, "you two would never have passed for as much as you slept in that class."

"Those were the days," Ron threw his arms over his head, learning on them as he laid down in the grass to relax. "We should have enjoyed it then, didn't know what we were in for!"

"Where is 'Mione?" Harry looked around as he questioned their missing friend.

"Head Girl duty," Ginny pointed with her thumb back up to the castle. "Some Slytherin firstie came up to her on our way out here. She lost her wand, and looked about ready to cry at the thought of telling Snape about it."

Harry almost choked on his own spit at the thought of what Snape's reaction would have been to such a question. The man may have changed a bit, but he still hated dealing with the first years and would often talk about nominating prefects who would do anything that even remotely sounded like coddling for him.

"Can't she just summon it?" Dudley surprised them all with his well thought out question, and how casually he spoke about magic.

"Of course she can!" Lavender spoke up. Then while practically laying down across Ron's chest, she sang, reminding Harry too much of Moaning Myrtle, "But I bet she's using it as an excuse to jumpstart her date night with a certain blonde Slytherin. That's what I'd do if so I had that nice, private room."

Harry's eyes went wide at what the older witch suggested, and all the boys in the group averted their gaze away from each other.

"Rumor has it," Lavender continued, showing no sign she picked up on how uncomfortable the situation made them, "an engagement is expected this year from them. A Malfoy courting anyone for a year is significant, you know. I heard he was supposed to be arranged with one of the Greengrass girls, until-"

"That's not true," Harry shook his head, unwilling to let his friend - Hermione, he convinced himself - become the punchline of some rumor. "Hermione had dinner with the Malfoys over the summer and told us he was never involved in that Pureblood stuff."

"Dinner with the parents, huh?" The brunette witch pointed out, "Don't shoot the owl, I'm just saying what I've heard. And none of us should be surprised if she's got a ring before the year's out."

It made Harry uncomfortable, more so than he wanted to admit. With his own future so uncertain, it made it hard for him to imagine his friends already thinking about things like marriage. Weren't they supposed to get jobs first? His parents hadn't, and thinking about his friends and their parents, most of them hadn't either.

"Oh, Harry!" Lavender exclaimed, clapping her hands and making Harry jump from the sudden change of tone. "Speaking of our favorite Slytherin, tell me everything you've heard about Hala Khatib. I've been dying to ask someone about her and… you know… what everyone says she can do."

Harry didn't even try to hide his confusion, "I have no idea who you're talking about. What does she have to do with me? And Draco?"

"Well, don't you take classes with her? She's a first year."

"Lav," Ron seriously said, giving his head a small shake and Harry felt his ears turn red, "don't."

"I'm not with any first years," he aggressively replied, trying to hold in his frustration. "She's the one Draco sits with right? So, what's up with her?"

"She can see death," Ginny chimed in."At least that's what I heard some Slytherins talking about the other day. If you get too close, I guess she can see a flash of your death. But I guess she doesn't like to talk about it."

"Who could blame her?" Dean added. "I wouldn't want to say anything to anyone about it."

"Well remind me to stay far away from her," Harry said, making the others laugh, not knowing how serious he actually was about the whole situation. His death constantly sat heavily on his mind at any given moment, he didn't need anyone adding to it. Briefly, he considered asking Snape about this ability - he'd probably have the most details on it - but he also refused to fuel the gossip. Having been on the other side of the gossip too many times, he refused to add to someone else's misery, even to satisfy his own morbid curiosity.

"Do you think it's true?" Ron asked. "Like, that she can really see how you're going to die?"

"Well, she was the only survivor from her family's attack," Ginny reasoned, "it would make sense if she knew what was going to happen."

Harry frowned as his friends all turned to watch him. The parallel wasn't lost on him, and while he heard his parents' death when the Dementors had come close to him, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to have even distant memories living through it. Lost in his thoughts, Harry heard words like Jordan - a country he couldn't exactly point to on a map - and then jinn - a dark creature he didn't remember learning about.

Thankfully, the talk of the group quickly switched over to Quidditch and how the Montrose Magpies annihilated the Tutshill Tornados in the most embarrassing game of Quidditch history. As Harry had not only been living in the muggle world at the time, but actively staying away from the wizarding world as much as possible, it had been his first time hearing how the Tornado's seeker literally had the snitch in his hands twice and failed to grasp it. That led Harry and Ginny into a heated debate on if that alone were grounds for immediate removal from the team. Harry fell on the side of everyone having bad days, while Ginny emphatically argued the Seeker's entire job was to catch the snitch, and to miss it not once, but twice in the same game - plus adding in the overall loss - should have him packing his broom. The passion the young witch had for the game couldn't be clearer and Harry thought any team would be crazy for not picking her up to play professionally.

When the sun started to set, Harry stood and suggested they all head back in for dinner. He didn't want to say out loud how cold he felt when almost everyone else - besides Dudley, he interestingly thought - had another person to help keep them warm. Given his fatigue, Harry fell behind his friends and waved them on with a "I'll catch up to you later" every time they turned to make sure he was following. And when they eventually all took off, Dudley surprised him again by staying back with him.

"You could've gone ahead," Harry waved off the gesture, not unlike Snape always seemed to do. "I'm just a little tired after the full week of classes."

"It's not gonna hurt me to walk in a little later than everyone else," his cousin said, walking directly in tandem with the Gryffindor. "Has running been too much?"

"No! Not at all." The last thing Harry wanted was Dudley to feel guilty. "It's been great actually. Overall I'm doing alright, but it's been a while since I've had a full schedule of anything."

"That makes sense," the blonde responded. "You'll let me know if it's too much though?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, a bit distracted when his eyes caught the sight of a familiar, small white kitten stalking in the grass at the end of the courtyard. Turning back to Dudley, desperate to change the topic away from his health, he said, "You know, you could have invited Susan out here with us. We wouldn't have minded her joining in. I doubt she ever slept in History of Magic though."

Without a second of hesitation, Dudley replied, "I know that, but then you'd be the only one without someone, and I didn't want you to feel alone."