~~~~SS~~~~

Tuesday 14 October 1997

Severus sat at his Defense classroom desk in his last class of the day, overseeing the sixth years taking their exam on Inferi. The scratching of the quills throughout the room gave him none of the typical calming effects he'd expect to feel on an exam day, leaving his mind swimming in the sea of uncertainty about the upcoming changes in his life. Would the students be able to withstand another year of split professors teaching them when inevitably Severus had to take time off to be with Harry? He'd promised them - and himself - one solid, last year, but now he couldn't keep that promise and it tore him up inside, then filled him with guilt over the selfishness of his concern. With the end of the hour approaching, Severus stretched out his arms from the chair - his body physically aching from the mental stress - and wanted nothing more than to go back downstairs to his quarters to go to sleep for however long he could manage.

Much to his relief, on Sunday night, Harry had returned to their quarters, still feeling down and confused, but with a more open mind to discuss the road ahead of them. The pair of wizards sat down at the kitchen table and over two bowls of soup, hours of arguing - then agreeing, then arguing again - they laid everything out in front of them. Severus was as honest with the young wizard as he could be regarding the ritual - intentionally leaving out how to obtain the Water of Life, knowing it would only distress the teen more - and what to expect with it. Despite the fact Harry eventually agreed to the ritual and the chemotherapy - both having been decided on the young wizard's terms, a very important point he should have originally considered - Severus still felt uneasy about the week ahead of them and had had difficulty finding sleep since. As their conversation Sunday night went well past curfew, Harry stayed the night in his dungeon bedroom, but returned to the Tower yesterday, just as he would have from chemotherapy. He'd given the Gryffindor a sleep tablet each of the nights he'd spent in the Dungeons, and instructed him to go to Madam Pomfrey a half hour prior to bedtime if he needed one tonight. Although he didn't think Harry would do anything drastic, unfortunately, given the circumstances, he didn't trust the teen to take them unsupervised in his dorm. The rest of the week, the young wizard would be in the Dungeons for the ritual and neither of them really knew what to expect.

The last two days had been challenging as Severus came to terms with this new reality, one that, unlike during the original diagnosis, put him on a level playing field with Harry. He never realized when he first showed up in this world he had allowed himself to believe that if only Harry chose the muggle chemotherapy the young wizard would live. Obviously he had other challenges here with Voldemort and being a Horcrux, but the Leukemia would be cured with this one important change of decision. Never did he think the Gryffindor's life would once again be in danger from itself, and being caught off guard was almost as difficult to accept as the relapse diagnosis.

Harry had thought about it though, and Severus's guilt tore straight through him when he tried to sleep. He'd been the one to insist Harry needed to see the positive, to live his life for today rather than tomorrow, and most of his advice stemmed from his own ideals of the cancer truly being gone. What if Harry felt his magic fighting against him, but was unable to describe it? Did the retraining and reorganization push it from the physical manifestation of locking doors and breaking glass to something worse? Not only would those answers remain a mystery, they really no longer mattered. All that did matter was blocking Harry's magic so they could start trying to force the cancer back into remission; hopefully for good this time.

Severus knew the news of Harry's relapse had made its way through the school when the Gryffindors showed up to breakfast this morning more quiet and somber than ever before. Minerva and Albus had notified the other professors, yet no one dared to approach him at the staff table. He didn't care what reason his colleagues subscribed to explain his seemingly odd relationship with Harry - though he obviously knew Harry's opinion on it - as long as they left him alone with his grief, they would live to see another day. If not… well, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to control his anger towards them.

Severus had spent almost every free second yesterday researching the Ritual, but today he forced himself to focus on other - not necessarily more important, simply different - topics, which included starting to study the possibility of time lapsed spells and any way to dissolve protective enchantments. He'd been midway through an advanced Charms book during his sixth years exam when the door to his classroom opened and Lucius Malfoy walked in. The other wizard wore a Zari brocade robe, black and rich cobalt blue, with real silver threading, standing out like a sore thumb in the sea of Hogwarts uniforms and robes. In his left hand, he held a small package which Severus knew exactly what it contained; relieved to see the man came through after all. Murmurs instantly started circulating through the classroom once Severus nodded at the other wizard, who slowly - taking each step as if he were calculating its impact on the future generations of witches and wizards - made his way to the front of the classroom.

"No talking during the examination," the professor reminded his students, never once removing his eyes from the Malfoy patriarch approaching him. He gave a quick nod towards his office, silently telling the aristocratic man to wait there until his proctored exam was completed.

Severus's office sat behind his desk, therefore unwilling to ever leave his back to a Malfoy, he walked up and down the aisles of desks under the guise of making sure the students had properly refocused on their examination. The bell rang a mere three minutes later and, as they always did - more so after an exam than a regular class -, the students jumped from their desks and grabbed their bags in a rush to leave; successfully making it to the middle of the week. All, that was, except a blonde Ravenclaw still feverishly scribbling across her parchment, having no clue her classmates had left her behind.

"Time is up, Miss Lovegood," he announced, stoically walking up and down the desks to collect the exams while trying to make his voice sound less exhausted than he felt. "Please leave your exam on your desk."

At the sound of his voice, she looked up and turned her head around the classroom recognizing she was now the lone student in the room. Raising his single eyebrow, he waited for her to either say something or preferably to get up and leave.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," she turned her head to the side, "I must have missed the bell."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in the process hoping to gain just a bit of strength and patience to handle her whimsical personality. When he reopened them, she still stood beside her desk watching him as if he were one of her imaginary creatures she saw for the first time.

"That will be all, Miss Lovegood," Severus instructed, "you are dismissed."

"I'm sorry to hear about Harry," she said to him in a tone no different than if she were telling him to expect rain in the next hour. "Sometimes life seems unfair, but they say we're only given what we can handle. He's strong. He'll make it through this."

Her words brought him back to another conversation with an equally peculiar student, his own this time: don't let him reschedule. When Hala Khatib had first uttered those five words prior to exiting his office, they had shaken him just as much as reflecting on those words presently. As much as he wanted to believe Miss Lovegood's claim - even willing to go as far as to break his own rule against trusting Divinations - she was no seer. None of them could know what would come of this relapse, at least no one he was willing to ask.

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood," he told her rather than kicking her out of the classroom as he originally wanted to, "however, you should tell that to Harry."

"Oh, I have," she smiled. "I just wanted to make sure you knew it too."

Not waiting for his response, the Ravenclaw skipped out of the classroom, her long blonde hair bouncing across her back, leaving Severus standing foolishly among the desks staring at her now empty one an aisle over. Her exam sat diagonally across the top, and when he moved to her aisle to collect it, he paused. Where he expected to see a hastily written, partially completed exam, he was greeted with an elaborately drawn picture of some animal on the backside of the parchment. Flipping it over, he almost laughed at the fully completed sheet staring back at him.

At first glance each question was filled out to its entirety, meaning Luna had either stayed to finish her drawing or to deliver her message to him. Severus hoped it was the former, but deep down knew it to be the latter. Whether he liked it or not, and having no clue as to when it occurred, the Lovegoods somehow crossed the threshold into acquaintances.

Waving his wand in the air, he sent the exams to a pile on his desk in his office, where he headed to deal with Lucius waiting for him.

"Glad to see you're back on your feet enough to teach," Lucius taunted when Severus entered his office. The other Slytherin meandered along the perimeter exploring the various texts and artifacts Severus used in his lesson; no doubt not up to the Malfoy standards, though he wouldn't announce such a thing. "Dare I say, even with the Sobriety Elixir I had my doubts you'd be back so soon."

"It was sufficient," the professor scowled, not telling him about the thumping headache he had all the way until Monday morning as a side effect to the instant sobering. He walked behind his desk, gesturing for Lucius to take a seat in the straight back chair across from him, which the blonde did only once Severus sat first. "Do you have it?"

The question required no explanation. It hadn't even been required to begin with as there would be no other reason for the man to be in his office if he hadn't secured the Water of Life.

"A bit impatient, aren't we?" Lucius smoothly commented, pulling two opaque black phials from his bag. "As I am sure you are aware, the condition you are forcing is only temporary and will require a booster - so to say - approximately every three months. This should be enough to get him to Easter."

Severus carefully took hold of the phials, immediately noticing two significant details: a small, almost electrical, current surrounded them and the abnormally high thickness of the glass phial itself; both attributes to protect the priceless material held inside. Slipping them carefully into a protected pocket of his robes, he said, "Thank you again, Lucius."

The other wizard winced at the gratitude.

"Have you considered how you're going to handle the situation long-term?" Lucius asked, leaning back arrogantly in his chair. "Though I have enough of that particular ingredient to get him through years of this, if necessary, I suspect once you allow his magic to return you'll be in the same situation."

He made a valid point Severus hadn't fully worked his way through yet. If the ritual lasted approximately three months, they would need to repeat it until Harry was completely done with his treatment. Even stopping midway through his second Maintenance would leave him vulnerable for a third relapse and those statistics were worse than a second; he'd made the unwise decision to look it up yesterday. This had to work and to give it the best chance they had to keep his magic blocked until they could practically guarantee no more cancer cells festered within his blood.

"We'll have to keep his magic blocked until he's done with treatment in its entirety," Severus lamely explained, unwilling to provide the length of time required. If Lucius had known about it, he didn't offer either. "If everything goes well this week, I unfortunately will not be able to be at the laboratory this weekend. Harry's new treatment schedule is basically two out of every three weekends, but one is only Saturdays, like he'd been doing. I'll check with Minerva or Molly Weasley to see if either of them could go with him in my place, leaving me available outside of his lengthier stay."

"So you'll be going from approximately three Saturdays a month down to only one?" Lucius confirmed. "Assuming you can't make alternate arrangements for Harry's care."

He let the statement rest between them. Harry's lack of magic meant that if he wanted to, he could leave Hogwarts, take the young wizard back to Spinner's End and work at the MLD during the week and fill in the weekends as needed. However, now that his house was threatened, Draco had an auror ready to arrest him at a moment's notice, and he had no doubt Harry needed his friends more than ever, the professor found he no longer desired to leave Hogwarts behind. He wanted to make it through this year, see this unique group of seventh years off, and then he could walk away. The plan was perfect, except he knew the best laid plans rarely worked out - he had the proof of two phials sitting in his pocket.

"I'll certainly give you plenty of notice once I figure out how my schedule will fall," Severus uncomfortably told him.

"Take care of your son, Severus," the other Slytherin surprisingly responded, waving off Severus's offer. "I'll handle the laboratory schedule with your pod. Simply let me know when you are available and we'll shuffle as needed."

He hated the implication that he was giving up a piece of himself - one he'd only recently found - but grateful for the flexibility. He promised to let Lucius, and by extension his pod, know what was happening and when to expect him back to his research. His end goal was to hopefully be on some kind of cadence, but he had no idea what the first month would look like under the new treatment regimen, let alone the next twenty-five very long weeks, all of which could change if they didn't reach remission with his first or second cycle.

"Tell me about Hala Khatib," Lucius requested - a seemingly random one - in a manner far from friendly. "Obviously, I know of her family's history - probably more than most - yet my source has reported she's gotten rather close with Draco."

Severus's face stayed expressionless, although inside he had at least a dozen questions regarding the other wizard's statements.

"I take it you cannot reveal this supposed source, or how he… or she... is able to see the coming and goings in a secured castle?" Severus practically demanded. He'd let the comment go when it had been mentioned back at the start of term, but now that it pertained to one of his students outside of Draco, he was more confident in his attempt to extract an answer.

"What would be the benefit of having a source in the first place if you knew whom or how?" Lucius's eyes lowered as he asked the rhetorical question. "I can assure you there is no security risk to you or the students. And I was able to discover a rather... unique viewpoint regarding the windows breaking in the Common Room."

Again, Severus held his reaction internally and was rewarded when his guest continued.

"It appears Miss Khatib may have been aware of the incident prior to its occurrence," Lucius began. As most of the students couldn't recall the happenings directly preceding the water pouring in, Severus found this tidbit of information useful. "I have it on good authority Miss Khatib loudly boasted about her expertise in swimming. Rattling off stats and all the different training she'd done over dinner. I was pointedly told her diatribe that night was more than she said at all of the meals thus far… combined."

"Yes, she had reiterated that fact several times once I breached the entryway," Severus remembered her insistence on helping him and in the pit of his stomach he admitted had he not taken her advice, there likely would have been casualties. "But what about when the glass broke?"

"Ah," Lucius gave his signature half smile, making Severus internally curse for falling into exactly where Lucius had wanted him to, "she reached out her hand and made sure to to have a strong hold on Draco the split second before the glass broke away. Had it not been for that action, I do believe he would have been swept out into the lake, at best... or killed, at worst."

"Then consider yourself lucky she's decided to cling onto Draco as a friend," it came out more smug than he'd intended, but he let the comment stand. "As for her premonitions, in general, I am starting to believe there is some kind of sustenance to her claims."

"Harry?"

"No, not directly," he answered honestly, "nor would I want to know. But there are other things she's said that pique my interest." Lucius's continued silence - in a move Severus used often - urged the professor to reveal probably more than he should have, "What do you make of the deaths of Ash and Talpin?"

"Are you suggesting Khatib somehow knew about them?"

Severus didn't miss a beat.

"I am asking what your opinion is on them."

The two Slytherins stared off across the desk littered with parchment, quills, and more red inkwells than any other professor needed; all of which wouldn't get used nearly as soon as it should be. Severus planned to take most of his marking to the hospital this weekend, hoping he'd have time to catch up while Harry rested - or did whatever the young wizard planned to do to pass the hours - so Tonks wouldn't have to deal with his assignments when she covered his classes early next week.

Finally, Lucius broke the silence between them, "I think someone very clever saved the Ministry ten years of wasted Azkaban resources."

Although Severus may have shared Lucius's sentiment regarding the fallen followers of Voldemort, he wasn't quite as sure as he'd been before that something more sinister hadn't occurred. Something didn't sit right with him about their deaths - corroborated by Lucius's odd reaction to them - and he added it to his ever growing list of things to keep watch over.

~~~~HP~~~~

Harry sat in the library, where he'd been every free second of the last two days, hands cramping from holding his quill too tightly, determined to get the rewriting of his essays completed before he checked in at Guildford hospital on Saturday for his first set of inpatient chemotherapy. The thought of being there for at least four days terrified him more than he'd ever admit to anyone and so he poured himself into his school work even though he was certain he wouldn't be attending classes any longer. Once he agreed to move forward with the Magical Block Procedure - refusing to call it a ritual because it sounded too much like what Voldemort did to Draco - and the chemotherapy treatment, he didn't really want to ask Snape about his class work; or more accurately he didn't want to hear the answer. Sure, it very well could have gotten him out of redoing weeks of essays for Herbology and Potions, but then he'd have nothing to focus his nervous energy towards. No, this was definitely better than twiddling his thumbs waiting for tomorrow's procedure and this weekend's chemo.

He pulled his tie loose, hoping to give him just a little more breathing room as the air around him became heavier the longer he sat there surrounded by his books, empty parchment, and notes.

"I'm telling you, the exam was wrong!" Harry heard Draco's angry voice argue from behind him, "Based on the textbook, I got number twelve right!"

All at once, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Lavender, Dudley, and Susan plopped down at what had become "their table" in the hour between the last class of the day and dinnertime. Dudley sat to Harry's left with his girlfriend beside him, while the other two couples sat across from them. Instantly, books, parchment, quills, and inkwells started making their way out of the school bags and onto the table beside Harry's own tools, covering almost the entire table top.

"Not according to the answer key," Dudley confidently retorted. "The World Wide Web started in 1990."

"Well the answer key is wrong," the Slytherin defended himself, "originally it was called Mash and started in 1989-"

"They've been at this since they left class," Ron told Harry as he rolled his eyes at their friends. "I swear Draco's almost as bad as Hermione is when he gets a question wrong. They're seriously made for each other."

"But that's not what the question asked," Dudley clarified, "it asked when it launched and the code wasn't done until 1990."

Harry's mouth almost fell open. Since when did Dudley sound so educated, especially in something like technology? It showed him just how much his cousin had grown since arriving at the school, or more accurately since his classmate had been killed by his abusive family.

"So? You're basically admitting I went above and beyond what the question was asking for," Draco scoffed. "I really should get extra points for it."

The table laughed. At first the casualness of his friends around him made Harry sad - inside he felt so far from normal - but it quickly dissipated and was replaced by joy. He needed this, to be surrounded by them all, he could pretend nothing was happening inside of his body that may or may not kill him in the end. When he walked through Snape's door on Sunday, he made the decision to leave his wallowing behind him and focus on what's in front of him. If he didn't, he was sure he'd lose himself long before a drop of chemotherapy touched his veins. Would he slip every so often? Absolutely. But he needed to hold himself accountable for the things he could: his own attitude, and for that, he needed his friends to help keep him grounded.

"Still working on your essays?" Dudley asked, pointing to Harry's parchment in front of him.

"Yup," he emphasized the pah at the end to show how much he didn't want to be working on them. "Working my arse off, in two days I've managed to make it through the first two weeks of both Herbology and Potions."

"And you expect to get through them all by Saturday?" Ron questioned, not at all hiding the doubt in his voice.

"I want to, but I doubt I will," Harry complained, stretching his hands loosely. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Seriously, the only thing worse than writing out an essay for the second time is doing it for the third. No matter what you claim, 'Mione, I am not an advocate for this type of studying."

Hermione shook her head, "That's because you're not studying, you're fulfilling a punishment… one you got for cheating, Harry." The table practically stood still as the Head Girl spoke up for the first time about the incident, not that her opinion on the matter surprised any of them.

"No, that's what you get for getting caught," Draco arrogantly chimed in, and Hermione glared over at her boyfriend. "Come on, you're trying to tell me you writing these two buffoons' essays for years was any different?"

"It absolutely is," she replied, but Harry noticed her steam had settled, if only a little. "He used a professor's words and turned them in as his own!"

"Exactly," Draco boasted. "Where he went wrong was not hiding that he was using his old work as a basis for the newly written ones."

"That's not what I meant-" Hermione started.

"I hate to say it," Ron interjected, "but I agree with Malfoy on this one. You're practically like a professor, Hermione, so you writing our essays is pretty much the same thing."

Hermione huffed. Harry, who hated being caught in the middle of their bickering - friendly or otherwise -, and chastised by Hermione over something she had no clue about to begin with decided a change of subject was in need.

"How'd Quidditch trials go last weekend?" He asked, closing his Herbology book, giving up on the essays for the day.

"Harpers officially got my position," Draco said before any of the Gryffindors could speak up, "but that's no surprise, really."

"I think he meant Gryffindor's," Ron corrected with a chuckle.

"So did I," Draco shook his head in defeat, "with that wanker as Seeker, I don't see how we stand a chance. Might as well just give you guys the Quidditch Cup now."

Harry smiled. The Slytherin seemed to have relaxed significantly since he'd joined them at the Gryffindor table after the flood. Harry thought he really should have said something sooner to help pave the way for his better acceptance with the group. Then again, there were a lot of things he should have done over this past summer holiday.

"Too bad I don't get a chance at him," Harry laughed, "I'd love to fly circles around him."

Draco shook his head at the visual, "They'll figure out their mistake quickly enough when he can't even see the damn-"

"Let me guess," Ginny interrupted, joining the group with Dean, plopping her bag on top of the table no more graceful than any of the wizards and sitting down on the other side of Harry, "talking about Harper, are you? Not going to lie, while it's gonna be a fun year for me, Snape really should pull him out before he makes a total fool of your team. You guys didn't see him fly last year - it was absolutely dreadful."

"Outside of yours truly," Draco sat back casually draping his arm around Hermione, "he was the best option we had this year."

"Then you should have tried out again," Hermione stated. Harry felt his face flush at the affection pouring from her words.

"It wouldn't work," Draco furrowed his brows, trying not to feel uncomfortable about the topic as he explained it to one of the few people at their table who hadn't played Quidditch. "When you're up there, you place a lot of trust in your team to keep you safe… a lot of trust that isn't there between me and my housemates right now."

Harry and the other experienced Quidditch players nodded their understanding. He didn't know how he would have survived without his teammates having his back. If he had to constantly watch himself on the pitch, there was no way he'd be able to effectively search for the snitch, let alone catch it. Last year Harry had come to terms with never playing Quidditch competitively again, but he could see Draco grieving the loss of his final year. Given that the Slytherin had been the reason for Harry's fifth year ban from Umbridge, he shouldn't have felt as conflicted as he did, yet he knew what it was like to be left behind by your classmates and the feeling wasn't one he would wish for any of his friends.

"Guess who crashed my Defense exam at the end of class?" Ginny asked. Not waiting for any of them to answer she immediately said, "Daddy Malfoy."

"Why does everyone keep calling him that?" Draco quietly retorted, his face grimaced in disgust.

Ginny, and most of the rest of the table, ignored him, "He didn't even say anything, either, just opened the door and walked to Snape's office like he owned the place."

"Why is it that Malfoy Senior thinks he can waltz into the school anytime he wants to?" Ron complained. To Harry it seemed trivial. None of the Weasleys would want their parent to drop into the castle almost at random, so he really shouldn't feel threatened there.

Everyone turned to Harry, as if he knew some kind of secret details between the two older Slytherin wizards. He shrugged, thinking everyone knew the details he did on it, "Maybe it has to do with the flood? I know he helped with the renovations, but I haven't heard too much about that lately though."

Hermione's brown eyes became worried as she looked at Draco and asked, "You know, the Prophet has been oddly quiet about a lot of things lately, do you think your father has anything to do with that?"

"If he did," Draco arrogantly said, "do you really think he would have let them publish their daily slander over the summer?"

Harry completely tuned out the animated conversation around him discussing the Malfoy patriarch's arrival to Hogwarts and his allowance to wander the castle - going as far as entering a classroom during session, much to Hermione's chagrin - completely unaccompanied. Harry's mind desperately tried to locate and put together pieces he knew about Snape that were getting more concerning, especially with Lucius's sudden arrival. Draco was the one to tell him about the Belladonna and warned him to stay far away from it. It wouldn't be a stretch for Lucius to somehow be involved in it. A sickening feeling filled the young wizard's stomach for reasons he couldn't actually pinpoint.

~~~~SS~~~~

The full moon shining down through the damp, misty air, glistening across the wet cobblestones of Diagon Alley left Severus feeling cold inside and not only from the brisk, stormy October air. In only a matter of weeks, the moist precipitation would be falling as snow, however in its current state it made the All Hallows Eve time of year live up to the folklore surrounding it. Dressed in all black, Severus avoided the yellow-orange glow from lanterns by sticking to the shadows, just in case what he assumed to be a straightforward encounter took a horrifying turn.

The missive landed on his desk mere seconds after Lucius crossed the threshold of his office at the end of their meeting where the professor took possession of the Water of Life, giving the impression it had been enchanted to be delivered when the professor found himself in solitude.

S.S.

I found something of interest. Meet me outside the Apothecary in D.A. at nine o'clock tonight.

K.S.

Though all of his best checks for hexes and curses came back clean, they couldn't account for flat out deception; plenty of nefarious mail had made its way into the castle in past years, and this could be no different. All the cloak and dagger surrounding the odd missive seemingly from Kingsley meant it might be a set up, but Severus was no coward and therefore he had every intention of showing up to discover its purpose. Under the partial truth of needing to pick up supplies at the muggle grocery and pharmacy for when Harry returned from the hospital next week - a trip he originally planned to do over the weekend in Guildford - he took off directly after dinner to London where he purchased things like Ginger Ale, saltine crackers, protein powder for his smoothies, Paracetamol tablets, and a new soft bristled toothbrush, then took a quick walk around the busy muggle London streets to clear his head. He carefully watched the people he passed, making sure he didn't recognize anyone or that no one followed him, and when both of those checked out, relishing in the anonymity the bustling city provided.

When the time hit a quarter past eight, giving him forty-five minutes prior to his meeting with Kingsley, he made his way to the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley; only pausing long enough in the magical pub to give Tom a small wave. The missive instructed them to meet at the Apothecary and Diagon Alley housed three shops in the small neighborhood which would qualify as such. He didn't need his former spy deductive reasoning skills to immediately cross Gundovald's Apothecary - where he and Draco met Matthew almost a year ago for the Chimera Scales - off his mental list. Assuming this to be a legitimate meeting with the head auror, under no circumstances would he plan to meet at the Knockturn Alley shop best known for its loose regulations on checking credentials for their patrons who wish to purchase classified substances. It left him the higher end Apothecary, where Severus preferred to stock up his own supplies, or Slug and Jiggers, an establishment providing more pre-prepared products and ingredients.

The late hour on the weekday made for less crowded streets than Severus usually experienced, which would also negate the clandestine part of the meeting. When there were only two people inside of a shop they tended to stand out more, leading the former spy to believe the missive - and by extension the person he was meeting - came from Kingsley; the auror wouldn't necessarily need a cover as much as just a neutral meeting point. The professor shook his head as he quietly made his way towards the Apothecary - choosing this location over the other due to the capital letter in the missive, indicating the name of the establishment, rather than the type - careful to dampen the sound of his boots splashing in the small puddles welling up on the uneven pathway.

Nothing appeared out of place as Severus approached the storefront, the lanterns outside still brightly lit giving clear visibility to the 'Open' sign hanging in the window by the door ready to greet any patrons in need of supplies or ingredients. Severus hadn't visited this establishment since the Diagon Alley attack and it was difficult for him to believe only two months ago the building had basically been shattered by a blast of strong magic; one still mostly of unknown origin. Today it appeared as if nothing had ever gone wrong - the windows repaired and likely re-enchanted, all of the bottles and the phials containing various magical substances replaced and replenished - but if he turned around he could still see, clearly in his own mind, the damage that had been done that day. Never could he imagine how much would have unravelled from that single event or how uncertain he'd become in his original assessment from it. No, he still didn't believe the Death Eaters were creating some powerful reemergence, but he couldn't say something else, something equally damaging, wasn't in the works. At some point the connection between the attacks at Diagon Alley and Godric's Hollow, plus the flood, Ash and Talpin's death, and the two mysterious Death Eaters at the Guildford Hospital would either show itself or dissipate. Severus's intuition said they were more related than any of them could know yet.

He lingered outside of the door watching each and every person who passed by, in hopes Kingsley had the same idea to arrive early. Of course, if the auror didn't think his missive sounded as odd, the professor doubted he would see the need to check they were alone. Still, he'd do his due diligence to be sure he hadn't been followed or set up before making his way into the familiar store. A little bell rang above his head when the professor opened the door, grateful for the warming charm placed across the threshold to remove the chill from his bones. His previous animosity over the night's meeting immediately calmed as he wafted in the unique Earthy scent familiar to any potioneer and dreadful for the majority of Hogwarts students.

"Good evening," a young wizard unenthusiastically greeted him from behind the front counter. Severus knew him as the owner's nephew - a Hufflepuff the professor had taught only five years ago - and unfortunately the professor did not go unrecognized. "Sorry, Professor," the boy perked up as Severus approached the front counter; regardless of no longer being the young wizard's professor any longer, he knew by now he'd never lose the title to his previous students, "I didn't realize it was you coming in. Kind of late, ain't it? Always figured you'd restock anything for the school year from Hogsmeade."

Obviously, his change of position the previous year had not been widely spread outside of the school.

"I'm in need for a personal project today," Severus lied so smoothly he wondered if he'd ever lose the ability to think quickly on his feet. "It requires only the most trusted of ingredients and therefore warranted a mid-week run."

As anticipated, the blonde gave a proud nod at his endorsement over his uncle's business.

"Thank you, sir," replied the young wizard. "I'm sure you know where everything is by now, but as always if you have any questions-"

"-I'm certain you'll be able to answer them," Severus interjected, knowing the praise would further distract the young man. Unsure if Kingsley expected to have this little rendezvous in the shop or to go elsewhere, he didn't want to draw any extra attention just in case.

Taking a basket from the floor at the first aisle, Severus began slowly walking down it, scanning his eyes over the walnut shelves filled to the brim with baskets of dried ingredients - with a scale and self labeling bags placed in the middle of each set of shelves to weigh and store whatever one needed - and large stock bottles of the liquids with small phials and corks beside them to pour out into smaller quantities. Though his hands expertly picked up each bottle and his eyes may have been examining them for concentration values, procurement or freshness dates, and readying instructions, his ears were listening to the air throughout the shop around him. He wanted to know if someone was already there, and if not, the moment when his contact arrived.

His patience was rewarded midway through his meandering in the third aisle, his basket filled with an eclectic assortment of products - half of which he'd donate to Horace's stock room, and the other half he'd replenish his own at Spinner's End - when he heard the bell over the door give a half a jingle. Curious over the quick silencing spellwork, his ears strained to listen for any indication of trouble.

"Good evening, sir," he heard the young wizard behind the counter say, giving no sign of the person who entered as a potential friend or foe.

"Evening," the deep, commanding voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt rang so loudly through the shop, Severus knew he had to be intentionally announcing his arrival for the professor.

Still, Severus didn't move from his browsing location. He placed his basket of ingredients on the floor and listened as the near silent footsteps creeped closer to his aisle, fingering his wand in the left pocket of his robe, prepared to pull it out at the first sight of the man. One could never be too careful. Unsurprisingly, Kingsley Shacklebolt didn't rise to Head Auror for nothing, and the other wizard didn't so much as blink as Severus brandished his wand the moment the auror came into view.

"The Malfoys were supposed to be Zanzibar at Easter this past year," Kingsley announced, not even attempting to draw his own wand. Severus suspiciously watched the wizard, thinking over how many people outside of the Order would have known the fact being used to confirm Kingsley's identity. The Malfoys obviously knew, making it insufficient for this purpose.

"Not good enough," he warned.

Kingsley turned his head thinking of another fact only the two of them would know - a feat in itself given how little private interaction these two wizards have had over the years. "On the first of October I was in your quarters where you assigned Harry Potter two hundred lines to consist of everything he had on his mind. You provided I hate Severus Snape as an example."

Perfect. Lowering his wand, the professor nodded and asked, "Why all the secrecy? You could have floo'ed into my quarters, again, and saved us both a trip."

Kingsley slowly approached and stood beside Severus picking up bottles and baskets at random, turning them over in his hands to examine, or at least to make it appear that way.

"Some… interesting information… came across my desk this morning from the liaison office regarding your two associates in Guildford," Kingsley started, his voice barely over a whisper. Turning to meet the professor he continued, "I won't be able to keep the information out of the public for long, however as you were the one to alert us to the situation to begin with, I wanted to get it to you first."

There was so much to unravel in that statement: Albus would eventually be notified, but whatever the information, it was something the auror thought Severus's unique history could assist. If nothing else, they wanted to give him the opportunity to weigh in prior to any other auror's or Albus's involvement. When did the former Death Eater earn this level of respect from the Head Auror?

"You have my sincerest gratitude," Severus replied, "as well as my full attention."

Kingsley waved his wand, surrounding them with the familiar privacy enchantments, then pulled out a set of pictures. The images were grainy and their lack of movement gave away their muggle origin. The first one showed two men in muggle suits - one blonde and the other light brunette, though no other distinguishing characteristics could be seen from the low quality photo - being brought into the hospital on stretchers; clearly visible next to the blonde was Mae's roommate, Jessica, in a full emergency procedure posture.

"This is your two guys coming into Accident and Emergency," Kingsley started, tapping between the two unconscious men in the picture. "The blonde had puncture wounds to the right upper quadrant of his abdomen consistent with a knife, causing damage to his gallbladder. The other had lacerations across his face, arms, and chest, and a similar puncture wound to his umbilical region. If he hadn't been magical, his injuries likely would have been fatal."

"I can imagine," replied the professor, carefully examining the photograph for any small detail that may stand out.

Finding none, he shuffled the top photograph to the back. The second one was of equally low quality as the first, but clearly showed the blonde - healed enough to stand, though he still held his side - helping the brunette towards the exit. The time stamp on the corner of the photographs showed it had only been a few hours from the time they were brought in unconscious.

"These are from the hospital's security cameras," Kingsley clarified. "The muggle agent in the liaison's office seemed particularly curious when my guy asked for this specific shot. Apparently to him it appeared blank."

"At least we know they left on their own accord," Severus commented, flatly. "Any idea how they ended up in that state to begin with or a better way to identify them?"

"I'll get to your first question in a minute," the other wizard said, turning around until his back faced the shelf and they were standing side by side. He patted his robe pocket gesturing to other information he still had to share. "As for their identities, turn to the last two photographs."

Regardless of his uneasiness about it, he flipped to the final two, or more accurately "sets" as they each contained a collage of each unconscious patient's injuries, Dark Marks alongside other identifying features, and their unconscious faces. Severus instantly recognized the two men as Jugson and Gibbons, releasing a sigh and breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Although he hadn't necessarily doubted Jessica's proclamation over seeing the Mark, he could no longer deny some kind of action involving the Death Eaters going on around them. With Ash and Talpin being unmarked, he'd managed to maintain his stance against Albus's claims, but the pictures in front of him challenged those beliefs.

"Why didn't we find them after the Battle of Malfoy Manor?" Severus almost breathlessly asked.

"Williamson said they've been living under aliases and glamours in a small magical community nearby."

"And why was this given to Williamson?" The professor not-so-nicely asked.

The auror shifted his weight uncomfortably, and in a move of respect, he turned to face Severus head-on, "We've managed to tie their previous location to at least Theodore Talpin. Though they never lived in the same complex concurrently, it's enough to connect these two-" he nodded at the pictures in Severus's firm grasp, "-to the Diagon Alley attack. And quite possibly to the Godric's Hollow one."

It made sense, even if he didn't like it. Rather than admit to such a thing, though, he continued to examine the photographs of the injuries sustained.

"I take it they didn't return?"

The auror gave a deep, frustrated exhale, "They haven't been located yet. We have guys watching their place, but there's been no sign of them or any detection of magic. My guess? They're long gone."

Severus nodded. It was a logical guess from anyone who spent any time with criminals. He continued to ponder the images of the injuries trying to decide if they matched the characteristics of a spell or if this had been done by a muggle knife. Diffindo and Sectumsempra would slice and could account for the lacerations across Gibbons's face and arms. He didn't know if any spells to puncture as a muggle weapon would do.

"Any clues as to whom they ran into to cause this type of damage?"

Kingsley perked up at the anticipated question and pulled from his robes a folder of parchment. He opened it revealing blank pages - privacy warded against unsecure eyes such as the professor's - and began to summarize their investigation thus far: "We have an eye witness - a muggle - who saw some of the altercation. Unfortunately, it took place in an alleyway and he claims it was far too dark to see. We believe the injuries are of magical origin, or at least our guys tried to defend themselves magically, because the witness claimed to have seen bright streaks of light coming out of the alley. It's what drew his attention there in the first place. We're still running the paperwork to get the right approval to extract his memory. It takes quite a bit of hoops to jump through when dealing with the muggle public."

"As it should," Severus started, his eyes still scanning through all of the pictures and putting his own pieces together. "I'm not aware of any spells to puncture like this, but that doesn't mean they don't exist or haven't been created."

The other wizard closed his file and returned it to his robe pocket. "I'm going out on a limb getting this information to you."

A warning. An expectation to help figure out the details, possibly using methods his aurors aren't able. But he felt overwhelmed and exhausted. Which posed the bigger threat to Harry: possible Death Eaters outdoing who knew what, or his cancer's relapse? To take on both would be more than he could manage.

"I'll see what I can find." He couldn't realistically promise any more.

"That's all I ask," Kingsley turned back around and picked up a bottle of black sludge from the shelf, turning it on its side and back to watch the sludge crawl up the sides. "Why do these ingredients have to look so unappetizing?"

Severus gave a small huff. "There's only so much one can do to dress up coagulated squid ink."

"I suppose you're right on that," the auror replied, placing the bottle to the shelf and selecting another - red Horklump juice used in a wide range of healing potions - in its place. "Moody tells me you're researching the ability to time-lapse spells. How's the project been going?"

"Slow," Severus told the other man as he weighed out Jobberknoll Feathers and placed them in a supplied canvas bag. "I've been a bit distracted this week, with…" He trailed off not sure how much to explain of Harry's situation.

"I've heard," Kingsley sadly offered. "Tell him to keep his head up and that we're thinking of him… both of you."

Severus gave a small nod of his head and made to leave, figuring there wasn't much else the auror had to offer and unless the privacy wards included a Notice-Me-Not, they'd certainly overstayed their welcome in the shop.

"One more thing, Severus," Kingsley called out right before the professor could exit their curtain of privacy. He raised his eyebrows beckoning the man to continue. "The rough draft of the investigation results on the flood came across Samson's desk today, and I'd imagine the final draft won't be more than a week or so behind it. Your name may have made an appearance several times, so I'd make yourself available just in case Albus wants to loop you in when Samson delivers them."

Severus pondered the message long after leaving the Apothecary, Diagon Alley, and as he made his way back into the castle with a bag filled with ingredients he'd separate out tomorrow to either donate or bring home - whenever he finally made it back to call Mae - shrunken in his robe pocket. Harry would be in Guildford until at the very earliest Wednesday of next week. He couldn't miss this opportunity to find out everything he could about the attack on his house though, so he'd have to devise a way for Albus to contact him at the hospital should Samson arrive before Wednesday. In hindsight, if he planned on staying with the young wizard for the four days - which would ultimately come down to Harry's own comfort - he needed a way to be able to be reached regardless. Otherwise, with these hospital stays so regularly scheduled, it would be far too easy for someone to plan another attack on his students while he was preoccupied and away from the castle; completely unreachable by magical methods.