“Aye, laddie, so here we are, aye?” Healer Covey was back, her smile and her hair as bright as ever. “Are ye ready ta get started?”

Harry nodded, not quite sure what to expect.

“I reckon this’ll be somethin’ different than what yer used ta. See, my people are from an ancient roamin’ tribe. We healers had our own ways. We learned ta channel our magic through our hands, not wands, ye ken? So when I touch ye, ye’ll feel me magic stirring up yers. Ye might feel a bit tingly, aye?”

“Okay,” Harry said, glancing briefly at Snape who stood nearby.

“We arn’ gonna do much today, laddie. Just givin’ yer magic a chance ta get ta know mine. That way, when we start the healin’ process, yer magic will accept me magic, ken?”

Harry nodded, thinking that Hermione would probably love to be here to see and learn this. “Will Professor Snape need to do anything?”

“Nay,” Healer Covey said. “Though I might bring his magic in too. It’s nay important now, but it might be in the future. Best our magic all gets acquainted, aye?”

Harry wasn’t sure what this meant. How was his magic supposed to mingle with theirs? And without a wand? Still, he stayed silent, guessing that either Healer Covey would tell him or he’d figure it out soon enough.

“I’m just gonna lay me hands on ye,” Healer Covey said soothingly.

Harry tensed as Healer Covey’s hands hovered over his chest. She stayed like that for a moment and smiled her reassuring smile at him. “Dinna fash, laddie, it won’ hurt a bit.”

Gently, she laid her hands on his chest, and Harry relaxed.

“That a boy,” Healer Covey cooed. “Take a nice, deep breath… an’ relax. Now, close yer eyes, aye?”

Harry shut his eyes.

“I want ye ta concentrate on me hands. Do ye feel the warmth spreadin’ out from them?”

Harry concentrated, and much to his surprise, he did feel something. “It feels like my skin is tingling, just under the surface.” Harry opened his eyes to see an approving smile.

“Exactly,” Healer Covey purred. “That’s yer magic meetin’ mine.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

“I’m just gonna move me hands ‘round a bit, get ta know yer magic a little better, aye?”

“Ok,” Harry said again, noticing that each place she moved her hands, his own magic rose in tingling waves to greet her—on his shoulders, the top of his head, his forearms, his hips, his knees. It felt as though she was awakening dormant magic throughout his body. He felt light and tingly. A pleasantly content sensation spread through him.

“Now, Harry, if ye dinna mind, I’d like ta bring Professor Snape in fer a bit. I’d like ta have ye meet his magic as well,” Covey said.

Harry tensed, unsure. He looked at Professor Snape who looked grim but determined.

“I’m gonna put his hands on yer chest here, laddie, just like mine, aye?”

Harry nodded, still uncertain. He watched as Healer Covey directed Snape to stand closer and then took his hands and positioned them a hair’s breadth above Harry’s breastbone. The healer advised Snape to take a deep breath, close his eyes, relax, and just feel. Harry almost laughed at the scowl on Snape’s face, but Snape did as she instructed.

Slowly, Healer Covey lowered Snape’s hands onto Harry’s chest. Snape didn’t flinch away from touching Harry as Harry thought he might.

“Let go yer breath there, Professor, aye?” Healer Covey said softly.

Snape released his breath and Harry felt the weight of Snape’s hands more profoundly, as if Snape had relaxed into him.

“Concentrate on his magic there, laddie,” Healer Covey said to Harry.

Harry couldn’t concentrate while watching Snape, so he closed his eyes as well. Instead of heat radiating out from where Snape’s hands rested on his chest, he felt a coolness spreading. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just different.

“I’m gonna add me hands now too, aye?”

Harry sensed more than felt when Healer Covey added her hands because the feeling spreading out across his chest was no longer cool like Snape’s, nor hot like Healer Covey’s, but somewhere in-between; a welcome warmth.

“Aye,” Healer Covey said, beaming, “Ye feel it, doncha?”

Harry opened his eyes to see Snape nod, a momentary look of wonder on his face.

“That’s all o’ our magic comin’ together. That’s what’s gonna heal ye, Harry.”

Dumbledore rested his elbows on his desk, his hands steepled, studying the temperamental wizard who sat before him. “You could have died, Severus,” he stated plainly.

Snape just shrugged his shoulders. “I may have overestimated my capabilities,” Snape allowed.

Dumbledore rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “How many more sessions do you think it will take to remove the curse from Harry?”

“One, two at most. I think I got most of it already,” Snape answered.

“I am wondering if there is any way to make this process easier on you,” Dumbledore said.

“You know there isn’t, Albus. Potions and spells have no effect.”

“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore acknowledged, “but there are other ways.”

“Such as?” Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I wonder if Coventry could assist. She can, after all, channel magic. Perhaps she can help channel dark magic.”

“Albus,” Snape snapped, “you can’t be serious. I haven’t met a purer witch. Healer Cook is certainly not going to tamper with evil.”

“Ah, you underestimate her, my friend. After all, if child abuse—which is her specialty—isn’t evil, then what is?” 

Snape was not in the best of moods and he didn’t relish basking in dark magic with Healer Cook by his side. Not everyone was cut out to deal with dark curses, and surely she didn’t know the pain she was in for. Yet, for all her ignorance, she exuded confidence, repeatedly reassuring him that she had enough control of her magic to help channel his, while blocking herself from becoming a conduit herself.

He wondered briefly if part of her tribe’s training had included a form of Occlumency, even if they didn’t call it that, or perhaps even realize it. Still, he wasn’t sure if she could actually help him, and he really didn’t want to try it, but after the disastrous last session, the headmaster had insisted.

And so, here he was, sitting side-by-side with Healer Cook, Potter in the bed before him.

“Ready?” Snape asked, questioning those around him.

Harry nodded and Covey said, “Aye.”

Harry Cook, Covey he reminded himself, who was sitting to Snape’s left, placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on his upper thigh. He scowled at her reassuring smile, which just made her smile wider, as if she found his reticence amusing. Did nothing intimidate the blasted woman? Snape wondered.

“First,” he said to Covey, “we will see how much of the dark magic remains.”

Waving his wand, Snape revealed the bright amber light that seeped from the cursed words on Harry’s hand and stretched out in streaks. Much to his relief, the streaks that had run up two of the boy’s fingers previously had retreated almost entirely into the cursed wound itself, while the other streaks only ran a few inches up his forearm.

Snape felt Potter relax too, knowing that the boy could sense their painful sessions were nearing an end. He’d already given Potter the calming and dissociative draught, which had seemed to work well last time.

He felt Covey squeeze his shoulder in acknowledgement of the curse.

Snape took a deep breath and readied himself. He waved his wand and chanted to begin the siphoning process. Then he closed his eyes and waited for the pain to begin.

He was slightly distracted by the heat emanating from Covey’s hands on his shoulder and thigh. It was as if she was infusing him with her magic. He tingled where she touched him. He opened his eyes briefly to look at her, but she just nodded for him to continue.

Closing his eyes again, he focused on the dark magic remaining in Potter. After the last session, he felt himself hesitate. He’d known he’d been closer to dying than even the Headmaster realized, and while he didn’t doubt his own abilities, he found that his body was less willing to sign up for another round of torture.

As his determination wavered, he felt Covey’s magic swirl inside of him, as if wrapping him in her confidence and assuring him that she would protect him. Protect him, he scoffed internally. The woman was beyond ridiculous.

Pushing thoughts of Covey from his mind, he concentrated on coercing the dark magic in Potter to coalescence and rise to the surface. He coaxed and cajoled it forward, urging it to slip out of Potter’s pores and into his own.

Finally, the dark essence emerged, struggling against his pull, but it was no match for the darkness within him. He gulped it in, pulling hard and fast, and when the pain hit, he nearly doubled over, blinded by the intensity of it. Yet he knew he couldn’t stop; he had to do this.

Then, all at once, the blinding pain lessened. It was still present, but there seemed to be a buffer between him and the pain, as if it was wrapped in some sort of cotton batting. It still flowed into him, but a semi-familiar warmth surrounded it, coaxing it to spread out and settle, leaving the poison-tipped daggers of agony behind.

Surprised, his eyes popped open, and he looked to Covey. He expected to see her rigid and writhing, suffering it on his behalf, to which he would have promptly objected. But she wasn’t. She sat serenely next to him, her eyes closed, and she was… humming?

“Concentrate, Sevvie, dear,” she purred. “Ye still need ta do yer part.”

Snape snapped back to attention, focusing once again on draining the curse from Potter, on keeping the dark magic flowing from Potter to himself. It was amazing how much easier it was with Covey by his side. And she had called him ‘Sevvie’. What the hell? He’d have to deal with that later. For now, he needed to keep his attention focused where it belonged—on Harry Potter.

Thankfully, there wasn’t much left of the curse now; he just had to make sure he got it all out. He feared the last little bit might be especially resistant to leaving the boy, but he didn’t want to increase his pull too much for the flow could break and rebound on both the boy and him. And then it would be that much harder to find the cursed shards and weave them back together and suck them out if they splintered and spread. Instead, he kept the conduit flowing smoothly, urging every last particle to cling to the whole and release its unholy grip on the boy.

Finally, he felt the last of it drain away. Heaving a sigh of relief, he slumped back in his chair, breathing heavily. While her magic had lessened the pain, it clearly had done nothing to stave off the utter exhaustion the process caused him. Dimly, he realized that he wasn’t shaking like he normally did either.

Eyes still closed, he murmured, “It’s done, Potter. It’s all out.”

Bedsprings creaked and he barely heard Potter whisper “Thank you, Professor. Here’s your potion.”

Snape felt the touch of glass against his lips and tipped his head back to swallow the potion just before he passed out.