~~~~HP~~~~

Come Sunday morning, Harry was rejuvenated simply from the excitement of getting to go outside and see the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts that afternoon. The sun was shining through his enchanted window onto his bed and it looked like it was going to be a perfect day for it; not only because there was no way Snape would let him go if it were raining, but also for the students that would be flying. Katie Bell - who he had recently found out was captain this year - would say it was beneficial to test out the new prospects in the dreadful rainy weather, however Harry really didn't care about that at the moment if it meant he might be able to attend.

The only real lingering symptom - besides fatigue which was more normal for him than not - leftover from the pneumonia was the cough and Healer Smithe said it could last for the next several weeks. Until it was gone, every time he coughed it was a horrible reminder to both himself and Snape about the pneumonia and the two weeks Harry spent practically unconscious. As the young wizard got ready for the day, he hoped the lingering cough wouldn't lower his chances of Snape allowing him to go to the Quidditch pitch, at least for an hour; just enough to get some fresh air and sunshine.

The Gryffindor had been too afraid to jinx the whole thing, so he hadn't actually asked Snape about it at all yesterday, instead deciding to play it cool and simply worked through his mountain of school work he still had to catch up on. Even with the full day dedicated to his studies, he still would probably bring his muggle notebook, pens, and one of his textbooks to work from the Quidditch stands. No matter how hard he tried, there was no way he'd be able to get caught up before tutoring started again tomorrow. With a little of Hermione's help, he hoped to at least be able to understand the materials they'd be going over during the week and move quickly through his courses as time progressed.

In an effort to think positively, Harry came out for breakfast dressed in his Gryffindor Quidditch jumper, jeans, and a matching Gryffindor hat, as he knew his head would be cold regardless of how nice it looked outside. He had no doubt that if Snape wasn't going to let him go in the first place, then dressing in his Quidditch jumper would do nothing to change his mind, however it was worth a try. Snape was already in the kitchen drinking his usual cup of morning coffee while reading through a book Harry couldn't even guess the subject based on the cover; his plate of breakfast in front of him hardly touched.

"You can't tell me you miss cooking now that school started back," Harry commented casually taking his usual seat closest to the door. His plate was already full with scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast, along with a glass of juice, a glass of water, and his morning medications beside it. Apparently Snape was set on getting him back to normal eating this week.

"That depends," the professor replied, lifting his eyes from the text he was reading, obviously about to come back with a sarcastic comment until he saw Harry's clothing. He narrowed his eyes.

"Depends on what?" The Gryffindor asked, ignoring the pointed stare from Snape. Picking up a small bite of egg on his fork, he took an exaggerated bite.

"You look... festive this morning," the professor dryly answered.

Harry peered down at his jumper and shrugged; he wasn't about to let Snape's dour attitude pull him down today. If he did, he would probably end up lingering on how nervous he was to see his housemates again and he refused to let that damper his day.

"You are fully aware that you are still recovering from pneumonia while being immunocompromised, correct?" The professor precisely questioned.

"Pretty sure I can't forget something like that sir," the teenager replied without missing a beat. "But you said Friday night that you have a way to help clean the area around me, so I thought..."

"I do," Snape said going back to his reading. "I just want you to remember to keep your distance from people and stay warm. If it goes longer than two hours, Miss. Granger or your cousin had better return you to the castle."

Harry smiled; that sounded like a yes. Now if he could only keep his nerves in line until after lunch when the tryouts started.

"Thank you Severus," Harry said, continuing to eat the rest of his breakfast.

"You are welcome Harry," the professor said thoughtfully. "If it's no difference to you, I'll walk you down to the pitch to get the area clean and then you can come back with whichever combination of Gryffindor's already know the location of our quarters."

Huh...

Harry hadn't thought about coming back to the dungeons. He doubted he would be able to find the hidden door again, but trusted that at least Hermione and Neville would know because they needed to come for tutoring; though the latter probably wouldn't be at the Quidditch tryouts nor would he voluntarily enter the dungeons. Either way, if it came down to it he could always go up to the hospital wing and he was sure Madam Pomfrey would let him floo back down here.

"That's fine sir," Harry was late to reply as he contemplated his return to their quarters. Then he added, "Will you teach Hermione the new spell? This way she can help when I go back to classes?"

The Gryffindor could see the wheels turning in Snape's head as he considered this idea. Statistically speaking, Harry was bound to have a good idea every so often, not that Snape would ever admit to such an occurrence though.

"Of course," the professor agreed, "I'm certain Miss. Granger would have no issues learning it quickly. Now, until it's time to go down to the pitch, you're to continue your studying."

Excitedly, Harry nodded then went back to finishing his breakfast. Trying not to focus on how long the next several hours were going to creep by, he turned his attention to the book Snape was fanatically reading. The front was black with gold lettering written in a script he couldn't decipher from his position in the kitchen - most likely not a coincidence either.

"You could simply ask me," Snape said, flipping a page casually, then writing something down on the parchment to his right.

Shaking his head debating on if he wanted to take the bait, Harry decided to ask, "What are you reading?"

The professor placed the book down on the table appearing surprised that the young wizard had actually asked him after all. He raised one eyebrow then said, "It's a book on genealogy. Also known as the study of family histories and tracing of one's lineage."

I wonder if my family's in there? Harry questioned to himself. Surely at least the Potter's would be listed since they supposedly had a long history in the wizarding world. There was no way he was going to ask about it though.

What family history would Snape be interested in studying?

"Wizarding or muggle families?" The Gryffindor asked, "I'm assuming they keep those records separate."

"You would assume correct," Snape answered picking the book back up and reading through the page he had opened to, "however one should never assume; instead you should make an educated guess."

Giving a hard sigh, Harry finished the last of his buttered toast - making a dramatic effort to show Snape he had eaten - and took his medicine before getting up to start cleaning his plate at the kitchen sink.

It took Harry all of his might to stay focused on his school work leading up to the Gryffindor Quidditch trials. Originally, he started in his bedroom at the desk, then ended up studying on his bed, before finally moving into the sitting room to his place on the sofa. None of the locations helped keep his mind fully on his schoolwork.

Being still fatigued from his various illnesses, the young wizard fell asleep with his herbology textbook sprawled across his chest laying on the sofa. Luckily, Snape had been in a good mood most of the day and let him sleep until lunchtime. The two occupants ate together in a very conversational lunch discussing topics ranging from magical defense strategies to who was best rated to win the Quidditch cup, which Snape ceremoniously stated that without Harry - or presumably Ginny for at least the first part of the season anyway - playing seeker, the Slytherin's were definitely favored to win. What they didn't talk about was not missed by either person - Harry's new treatment schedule, Harry's cancer, Snape's duties for the Order, what happened non-medically in the thirteen days Harry was unconscious, or the upcoming magical testing. Harry didn't want any depressing topics to get in his own head bringing him down.

When there was only about a quarter-hour before they were set to leave, Harry could feel a cold sweat forming along his forehead and in his palms. He was on the sofa staring off at the wall trying not to think about anything and failing miserably. The only thought going through his mind was the reaction he was likely to get from his teammates. Somehow in his attempt to avoid thinking of that scenario, it was now the only thing his mind could focus on. Would they laugh at his lack of hair? Or maybe they would ignore him completely since The Chosen One was no longer healthy enough to save them?

Snape appeared in the floo as Harry was in the middle of his mini-panic attack and was just about to cancel the whole thing.

Where has he been?

"Are you ready?" The professor asked, keeping a keen eye on the young wizard.

"No," Harry admitted sheepishly, "I think this is a bad idea."

Snape's face was completely blank. After everything Harry had done to make sure he would get to see the tryouts, now he was backing out. Some Gryffindor he was; if he couldn't show his face to his own housemates, how was he going to manage when he was back in classes with the other houses? Or what about when he got to go back to eating meals in the Great Hall with all the years from all the houses?

"Fine," he eventually said when it was obvious that Snape had nothing to add to the conversation.

"That's good to hear because I've just spent the better of part of the last hour cleaning out the stands of the Quidditch pitch for you."

Demonstrating just how anxious he was, Harry jumped when a small piece of parchment unexpectedly appeared in front of Snape. Reading over the parchment, the professor narrowed his eyes, but went to the door to let in whoever dared to come to their quarters.

Harry - completely uninterested in the identity of their visitor - went to his bedroom to put on his trainers. It had been so long since he had needed to wear them that it took several minutes to find them buried at the bottom of his trunk. After a quick internal debate, he grabbed his red blanket from its neatly folded position at the bottom of his bed, unsure how cold it would be outside, or more specifically how cold it would feel to him outside. And just like that, he was ready to go.

As he was about to leave his room, he could hear murmuring coming from the sitting room. It sounded like more than one person was here and Harry hoped to Merlin it was not Malfoy; he was already dreading Tuesday's tutoring if he thought too far ahead for the week. He'd managed to avoid the Slytherin so far since he had no reason to be in the hospital wing when Harry was there, except now that he was back home it was more than possible the blonde would eventually stop by to see Snape.

Opening the door, he smiled when he heard the voices of Hermione and Dudley instead of Malfoy's. They must have come down to walk with him to the pitch as Ron would already be in the locker room getting ready and probably nervous as hell.

"Hey Harry," Dudley called out once he saw Harry emerge from his bedroom. The young wizard stopped short at the sight of Dudley holding a Gryffindor flag and simply raised his hand to greet his cousin.

"All set Harry?" Hermione asked, coming up and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. No matter how many times he and Ron joked about Hermione's elaborate greetings, he still loved that she did them.

"Yeah," he answered her nervously, "I thought I was meeting you guys there?"

It was Snape who answered his question, "I thought you'd feel more comfortable going down with your friends. I'll only cause an uproar if I'm anywhere near the Gryffindor trials. You needn't worry, I've made all the necessary preparations."

He was right, Harry rationalized to himself. The other Gryffindors would definitely think he was spying on their team selection, plus then Harry would have to explain why he was walking down with everyone's most hated professor. It would be a really bad way to start his reintroduction into the school again. He felt a wave of gratitude rush through him at the thought that Snape had considered not only ways to keep him physically healthy, but emotionally healthy as well.

"Thank you Severus," Harry said then grabbing his school bag - packed with homework to work on - he turned back to his cousin and Hermione, "Let's go."

The three of them walked carefully through the dungeons with Harry between them, wishing they'd floo'ed to somewhere outside of the Slytherin's territory to start. The last people he wanted to run into first was a group of aggressive Slytherins.

"How's Ron feeling about the tryouts?" Harry asked, navigating his way carefully through the corridors. It felt strange to be walking more than across the sitting room or down the hallway.

"He's nervous," Hermione said quickly, "he thinks without you on the team there's no way he'll make it again."

"That's ridiculous," Harry commented with a small scowl, "he had a good end to the season last year. He'll be fine."

Hermione stopped walking causing the two cousins to stop directly in front of her. She stared at Harry with her hands on her hips.

"It's Ron," she lectured, "when does he rationally think about things like this?"

"I know 'Mione," Harry said, pulling her forward so they could make it to the pitch before it filled up too much with spectators. "He should be happy. Without me on the team, he'll finally get to shine."

Both Hermione and Dudley laughed at that one. By this time, the trio had made it up out of the dungeons and as they were crossing the corridor to head outside, Harry could hear the loud echoes of students enjoying the beautiful day on this last afternoon of the weekend before classes started back again. With such great weather, Harry had expected he would have to encounter at least some students on his way out to the pitch. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, pushed the large oak door open, and they walked out onto the grounds.

The first thing Harry noticed was how fresh and crisps the air smelled as he inhaled deeply. After all that time indoors, he hadn't noticed now stuffy it had been in the dungeons. The second thing he noticed was how bright the sun was in his eyes and simultaneously how warm it felt against his skin. Yes, the enchanted windows helped bring the natural light, but it wasn't the same as feeling it. He was so engulfed in his other senses, he hardly took notice of the people around him.

"Hey Harry!"

"How's it going?!"

"Nice to see you!"

Without making too much of a big deal about it, he simply waved as the three friends continued walking on by and down to the pitch.

"Have you been down here yet Dudley?" Harry asked, this time not being able to miss the stares he was receiving - mostly from non-Gryffindors - even if no one was saying anything directly to him anymore.

"Yeah. Ron and Hermione brought me down here one day when Ron was practicing," Dudley replied as if this were completely normal, "Not going to lie, the flying creeps me out a bit."

Harry laughed. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever expect to be having a conversation like this with Dudley. And yet somehow it felt natural and something that he knew his mum would be proud of him for. That last thought made him smile because even though he never knew - and would never know - his parents, he still wanted to do things in his life that would make them proud of him. So far, he thought he was doing well achieving that overall, except for the Department of Mysteries... and maybe the Chamber of Secrets... and the Philosopher's Stone; he guessed they would not have liked him doing any of that stuff.

They were the first three people in the stands and Hermione led them over to where he assumed Snape had told her the area that had been magically cleaned for Harry.

As he had anticipated, the breeze made him shiver as he was sitting down and setting up some of his schoolwork to start. While it wasn't really that cold outside yet, he had lost such a significant amount of weight he didn't have as much body fat to keep him warm. He wrapped the blanket around him, but not before Hermione grabbed her wand and cast a heating charm on it to help him stay warm. Harry sat sandwiched between Hermione and Dudley, helping to keep him warm and protect him from prying eyes.

"What are you working on?" Dudley asked as Harry opened his notebook.

"Transfiguration," the young wizard answered, then thought about how nonsensical that sounded so he added, "the ability to change one object into another object."

"Why would you need that?"

"Erm..." Harry thought about a situation that might make sense to Dudley. He smiled at the example that popped into his mind, "Well, if you needed bandages because you're bleeding, you could transfigure your essay into one."

"Or you could just conjure them," Hermione explained looking over the essay Harry had written last night. "Which is still Transfiguration, but then you wouldn't have to redo your assignment."

Harry's mouth literally fell open. Why hadn't Snape done that instead of using his charms homework when his IV had pulled out?!

Turning back to Dudley, Harry corrected himself, "It's either transforming something from something else or creating something from nothing. Probably one of the more obscure classes we take, but I need to be an Auror... Which is a dark wizard catcher."

"Yeah," Dudley said, "I remember."

Hermione handed him back his essay with far less markings on it then he anticipated, "For not actually having an official lesson yet, it wasn't bad. If you expand the areas I pointed out, I think you'll get fine marks."

Harry could tell she was distracted as she kept looking out around the ground like she wanted to see the moment Ron came on the field. Given that he'd been secluded from them for most of the summer and the start of the school year, it made sense that they would inevitably get closer. However, seeing it so plainly in front of him was a little off-putting, like he was becoming their third wheel.

As Harry was working on rewriting his Transfiguration essay, adding in Hermione's more than helpful hints, the stands around him started to fill up. He was surprised to see more than just the normal Gryffindor-Quidditch crowd in attendance. In fact, there were students of all years from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too. Coming up besides their little group was Neville, Luna, and Seamus, followed closely by Pavarti and Padma.

"Hey Harry," Neville said, taking the seat besides Dudley, while Luna sat on the other side of Hermione and Seamus sat down in front of Harry. Padma and Pavarti continued to another section of the stands after greeting Harry.

"Hi guys," Harry said, trying to sound as casual as he could. Leaning forward, Harry gave Seamus a playful punch on his shoulder and said, "You don't normally come to tryouts, what're you doing here?"

"Nah, but Dean's tryin' out fer Beater this yer," the Irish Gryffindor explained, "and from what I heard this is the only way we can make sure Snape hasn't turned ya inta potions ingredients yet."

Harry laughed, not taking what his former dormmate said to heart knowing it was in good fun. If nothing else, the fact that Neville spent time in Snape's quarters and came back alive was enough proof Harry wasn't about to perish on them.

"Glad to see you waited until it was a convenient time for you to check in on me then!"

"Oh, no Harry," Luna said whimsically and with a serious appearance upon her face, "I heard that if anyone asked a single thing about why you weren't in classes, Professor Snape said he would personally feed them to the giant squid."

Harry felt his face starting to flush. So much for no one making the connection that-

"How did you end up staying with Professor Snape?" His thoughts were interrupted by Luna's much too personal question.

Harry thought back to the beginning of his summer and how much had happened between them. It was too difficult to really explain.

"Professor Snape originally came to stay at my house back when Harry was first diagnosed," Dudley chimed in completely ignoring Harry's death glare. "He took care of Harry while he was really sick and brought him to all his appointments and-"

"It's... Complicated," Harry interrupted with - because frankly it was the truth - giving another glare at Dudley.

"That's so good Harry," Luna continued because either she couldn't tell how uncomfortable this made Harry or she didn't care; for some reason Harry suspected it was the latter. "You've always been so alone... And so has Professor Snape; you deserve a good home."

"Erm... thanks Luna," Harry said as Seamus and Neville tried unsuccessfully to hold back a laugh, "...I think."

Luckily, she didn't have any time for another question because the prospective players were all coming onto the pitch. Hermione immediately perked up watching Ron walking out not so confidently. Harry waved to get his best friend's attention and was rewarded with a small wave back.

Harry watched most of the tryouts instead of working on his homework assignments much to Hermione's chagrin. Of course, she wasn't nearly as focused on her reading as Harry knew she'd been in the past. No he wasn't imagining it, there was definitely something changing between her and Ron.

Regardless of how much Harry wished he was out there flying with his classmates, he cheered them on like nothing was bothering him. They had the start of a decent team after losing so many of their key players last year. Katie Bell was obviously returning as a chaser along with Demelza Robins - who Harry barely knew - and Dean Thomas. Katie selected two new recruits Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peaked, to replace Fred and George; Harry wasn't completely sure how they'd do overall, but even he had to admit the pickings were slim.

When the time came for the Keeper tryouts, the stands had filled up, and Harry knew it would make Ron extremely nervous. With most of the people in the stands staring at him or whispering about him, the ill Gryffindor was feeling guilty for drawing so much attention, inevitably adding to Ron's nerves. If the redhead didn't make the cut, Harry would have himself to blame.

As the defender to the position - having had it last year - Ron was able to go last out of the seven prospects that came to try out. None of the first five applicants could save more than two goals apiece and Harry held his breath as Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. Somehow on the last one, McLaggen shot off in completely the wrong direction causing the crowd - including Harry - to laugh. It was such a random rookie mistake, no matter how much Harry wished to ignore it, he knew Hermione had to have gotten involved. Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven, but he really had no reason to worry as he proceeded to block all five of the goals earning him the spot on the team as Keeper.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to pay closer attention to this next part or block out the tryouts for his old Seeker position. Although, the more he thought about it, technically it was Ginny's position since he hardly played last year, making him feel marginally better about the situation. Katie was gathering all the potential Seekers together - most of who were second and third years - when he heard someone call from behind him.

"If it isn't Pitiful Potter," Harry didn't have to turn around to know it was either Crabbe or Goyle. He could never tell those apart to begin with, but from behind him was almost impossible. It didn't really matter in the end because neither of them should be watching the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts.

"What happened to you Potter?" The Slytherin called out with clear intentions to pick a fight. "You look like you're about to drop dead."

Harry whipped around and Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder as a physical reminder to him not to react. That really wasn't his style though, so instead he stood up and turned around now face-to-face with both Crabbe and Goyle; Malfoy was notably absent. Hermione, Dudley, Neville, Luna, and Seamus all stood up around Harry, except since the Slytherin's came up directly behind them, Harry was now front and center.

"Heard you can't do magic anymore Potter," Crabbe taunted as Harry got angrier with each passing second. "Not so good for the Boy-Who-Lived is it?"

"As usual, you're completely wrong. I can do magic," Harry threatened, "I'm just not gonna waste any of my energy for you two idiots."

Harry was about to turn around and continue watching the Seeker trials - which were still ongoing having not heard the commotion from up in the stands - when one of the Slytherin bullies pulled off Harry's hat and threw it from the stands. Fighting off the embarrassment with as much Occlumency as he could manage, Harry shook his head from side to side.

"Is that really the best you can do?" He narrowed his eyes at the pair in front of him, "You're both pathetic!"

"And what are you going to do about it, Squib?" Goyle took a step forward and shoved Harry directly on his chest. After all this time he never really noticed the port in chest anymore and of course that happened to be exactly where one of Goyle's large meaty hands struck him and the small Gryffindor fell over backwards into the stands. Moving into his knees, Harry's hand clutched his chest and he winced as a sharp pain ran through his upper chest. Each time he breathed, the pressure around the port would sting in pain. At this point, the seeker trials had ceased and their group had a good amount of people watching around them.

Crabbe and Goyle started manically laughing. Without any other warning, all the friends around Harry brandished their wands at the same time. Dudley, who obviously had no wand to use, stood directly between Harry and the two bullies with his fists ready in a moment's notice. However before any of them could react, the two Slytherins were pushed back as if hit with an unexpected, extremely strong stupefy.

Hermione spun around, keeping a close eye on Harry who almost wasn't even paying attention to what had happened around him. Before she could say anything, Professor McGonagall showed up; making her way as quickly as she could through the crowded stands.

"Excuse me," she demanded, finally approaching the eight teenagers. The professor was looking between all of them trying to ascertain what had happened, however it was not difficult to tell. "What is going on over here?"

No one answered. Harry slowly stood up, hand still covering his port trying not to show that he was in pain. The professor peered down at Crabbe and Goyle unconscious on the stands, then looked back curiously at Harry. It was as if she knew he somehow was the cause of the situation. She pointed her wand at both boys and said "Rennervate" to awaken them both. The two Slytherins jumped to their feet with their wands out in front of them, immediately recoiling after one glimpse at their Transfiguration professor.

"Miss. Granger and Mr. Dursley, please assist Mr. Potter to the hospital wing; I'm guessing Madam Pomfrey will want his healer to examine his injury," Professor McGonagall demanded. "The rest of you follow me, we'll be meeting with the headmaster and Professor Snape."

Harry was still between Hermione and Dudley as they made their way off the stands heading back towards the castle. Back at the Quidditch pitch, it sounded like the fight had broken back out with Seamus's and Goyle's voices being heard above the sea of talking. Harry wanted to turn back around to help his friends; in fact he would have in an instant if his port wasn't still feeling uncomfortable. Every time he breathed, the area would give a sharp pain that lasted only a second.

"Harry," she said warily, "did you do that? To Crabbe and Goyle?"

"I can't Hermione," the Gryffindor wizard explained, only partially believing what he was telling her, "Snape and Dumbledore have already figured out that my magic is going away. It has something to do with the chemotherapy, I'll fill you in on the details later."

"Well, I think they're wrong," Hermione said in a matter of fact voice.

Something about that statement broke all of Harry's reserve and he stopped in his tracks, still holding onto his chest. He was fuming mad and refused to look her in the eye knowing he'd never get to say what was on his mind if he did.

"So you think two of the best wizards at Hogwarts are wrong?" He yelled up towards her once she realized he had stopped following. "And of course, you're right about every little thing, so just because the great Hermione Granger says they're wrong, my magic must not be getting erased. Did you even think about how that might sound on my end of things?

"No? Well, let me fill you in. I know what I feel, ok? I know what Severus told me matches what I'm experiencing and I don't care what you think because it sure as hell feels like my magical core is dying. But I guess since that's better than me dying, I just have to suck it up and deal with it!

"I don't know what happened to Crabbe and Goyle back there, but if it was me... that somehow I managed to nonverbally and wandlessly stun them, I hate that I wasted whatever little bit of magic I have left on those arseholes!"

At this point Harry was completely out of breath - still struggling with the after effects of the pneumonia - and fell back to the ground in a coughing fit. He tried to use his Occlumency to calm himself down and be able to breathe, but he was too worked up to do it successfully. Hermione sat down next to him and Harry immediately pulled himself away from her.

Once the Gryffindor wizard finally got some kind of oxygen to his lungs and brain, he stood up and started slowly marching himself, with Dudley two steps behind him, to the hospital wing. Hermione remained on the grassy lawn watching one of her best friends walk away angry.

~~~~SS~~~~

Severus was having tea with Minerva - going over how they would be measuring Harry's magical abilities as well as their plan to provide Alton with alternate records to lay a false path for the Dark Lord - when Albus's Phoenix patronus interrupted them about a fight between their students on the Quidditch pitch. Severus was furious since he had specifically lectured his students about staying away from the pitch today, under the guise that the Gryffindors would then attend their own trials later in the week, to which he made clear he did not want this to happen. He was about to head straight there when Minerva told him to meet her at Albus's office and she would take care of the altercation.

"No offense Severus," she started, putting her on her cloak, "if you show up there, it's only going to make things worse."

He knew she was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Grudgingly, he stood and left for the headmaster's office. On his way there he tried not to think about what could have happened to Harry. While his platelet counts had come back up with the lack of chemotherapy, they still were not where a healthy teenager's should be. He briefly considered going to the hospital wing because if Harry were hurt that was where he would go, however he didn't know for a fact Harry had been injured, plus he had his duties as a Head of House that were already lacking lately.

"Good afternoon Severus," Albus greeted his defense professor, "I take it we are waiting on the students who were involved in the altercation?"

Severus nodded, "Any idea of the culprits?"

"Unfortunately, I believe it's Messrs Crabbe, Goyle, and Potter," the older wizard said with a sorrow deep within his blue eyes. "Before you get too unsettled about the situation, I feel it appropriate to tell you Miss. Greengrass alerted me to the possible situation after overhearing both of your students discussing it."

That was definitely an interesting turn of events. He assumed she would try to prove her loyalty in any way possible, yet choosing to do so against these two particular Slytherins was not the best course of action in the long run. Their fathers may not be as highly ranked in the Dark Lord's inner circle as himself - at least where he used to be - or Lucius, but they were high enough to draw unwanted attention.

"Foolish girl," Severus commented as he rubbed his forehead.

"I think it's quite clever my boy," Albus said turning his head in inquisitively. "Your new truce with Harry is making its way around the student body. What better way to stay in your good graces than to alert us that harm may be coming to him."

The former spy was trying his hardest to balance his responsibility to Harry, his students, and his colleagues; a feat that was challenging on even his best of days. He tabled his worry about Harry's well being for a moment to consider if Daphne Greengrass's admission could come back in a negative light.

It took Minerva twenty minutes to return to the castle and accompanying her were Crabbe and Goyle, along with Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Seamus Finnegan. Longbottom was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, whereas Finnegan appeared like he was ready to continue whatever had occurred down at the pitch, and as always Miss. Lovegood didn't even seem to notice they were in the headmaster's office to begin with.

"Who shall we start with?" Albus asked his students. When no one stepped forward, he continued, "Miss. Lovegood, if you'll be so kind as to explain what exactly happened this afternoon, it would be much appreciated."

"Of course Headmaster," the Ravenclaw started, "well, I decided after lunch to accompany Neville to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch trials. I don't pay much attention you see, so there was not a chance-"

"Thank you Miss. Lovegood," Albus interrupted, to which Severus was grateful so he did not have to be the one to do it, "however we only need the details relevant to the altercation involving Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Potter."

It took all of Severus's patience not to simply storm out of the room and deal with his students later.

"Ye see," Seamus Finnegan stepped up to explain. He had a bloody lip to which Severus silently questioned how he'd received it since no others appeared injured. "We were all jus fine until these two arseholes came up tryin' ta pick a fight. They said some things ta 'arry, but he didn't get mad until they pulled his hat off and then shoved 'im down inta the stands."

Minerva had to hold Seamus back, something that surprised Severus because he had not realized that the teen was so defensive to Harry. As for the actions of his own two students, unfortunately it didn't surprise him at all to see something like this occur. It was bound to happen once Harry made his way back into the student body when it was clearly evident he was ill. This in no way validated what they did and they would absolutely be punished for their abhorrent behavior.

"I dunno why Potter isn't here too," Crabbe mumbled, "he's the one who knocked us out."

Severus raised one eyebrow at that statement, choosing not to say a word. Stealthily meeting Minerva's eyes, the Transfiguration Professor gave a small nod to confirm the accusation. Friday's magical test could not come fast enough.

It took over an hour before Severus was able to leave Albus's office. If he could, he would have assigned his two students detention until the Christmas holiday; in the end though, his cooler side prevailed and recommended detention every night this week to be served with Mr. Filch. Of all the stupid things those two could do... of course could he really expect any less from them?

The most alarming part of that entire conversation was Harry's unintentional magic. In this particular situation, it very well could have been a bout of accidental magic - since Harry was both physically and emotionally threatened - except given that none of Harry's magic so far could be classified as accidental, the professor had to assume it was unknown, intentional magic.

He rounded the corridor leading to the hospital wing and heard Alton's voice from inside. If the healer was called, then either Harry was having a bleeding issue or it had to do with his port. There weren't really many other non-life threatening injuries that Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix; even by muggle methods at this point.

Getting his Occlumency shields firmly in place, the professor entered the hospital wing. Harry was in a bed on the left with his jumper removed showing two large purple bruises on either side of chest. They were clearly from where Goyle had - exceeding roughly - pushed Harry down. Severus questioned if his back was also bruised from where he'd landed, except the young wizard was laying down in the bed, so he could not see that yet. Healer Smithe was flushing out the port and had several bags of an unknown medication waiting to be used. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey was shadowing Alton taking notes of each and every thing the healer used or had ready to use.

Next to the bed was Ron, still dressed in his Quidditch uniform and Dudley next to him. He took note that Hermione was not anywhere in the hospital wing, even though Minerva stated she was to accompany Harry to the hospital wing with Dudley. If Harry and Ron were here, Hermione's absence was significant.

"What happened?" Severus demanded, masking his deepest concern for the young wizard in the hospital bed.

"He'll be alright Severus," Alton reassured the professor. "I've confirmed the port and catheter are still in place, which was the biggest concern. Outside of that, he's got some nasty bruises, so I'm going to start him on extra platelets."

Severus picked up all the bags laying across the table and confirmed they were indeed platelets to use to help Harry's blood clot.

"How are you?" He asked Harry now that he confirmed the teen's life wasn't in any danger. He placed his hand on Harry's left shoulder urging him to roll onto his side and said, "Let me see your back."

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes and turned over, "You heard Healer Smithe; I'm going to be fine."

"I did not ask how you are going to be," satisfied that the bruises on his back were no worse than the ones on his chest, he continued, "I asked you how you are now?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, Harry amended his statement, "I am fine, sir."

There was that word again..."fine". He'd have to break Harry of that habit really soon if for no other reason than his loathing of the term and what it now represented.

"I'll give you one more chance; how are you right now?"

"I'm pissed off! Is that what you want to hear?" Harry yelled, struggling to explain his thoughts, "Things were actually going well and then... Then they had to say... those things... and then they... Did that..."

Severus knew Harry was embarrassed; not only from the hat situation, but the squib comment too. In his old reality, Harry rarely lost his control, unfortunately going through his counterpart's memories that had not always been the case for Harry here. This Harry had always had to deal with all of his complex emotions completely on his own.

"And then Hermione had to go and say-"

Harry clamped his mouth shut, biting his lower lip in the process. Whatever the Gryffindor witch had said, that would explain her absence; it must have been something bad enough to both keep her away and cause Harry to want her away.

"I've handled both Crabbe and Goyle," Severus reassured as he busied himself rechecking the bruising Healer Smithe had already gone over, "I'm sure Mr. Filch will find an appropriate detention for the two of them."

Harry huffed, "For some reason I highly doubt that sir."

It wasn't fair, but things in life rarely were; if anyone knew that simple fact it was Severus and Harry.

"I'm sure Professor McGonagall will make sure they get a particularly nasty detention," Ron spoke up; actually agreeing with Severus on something, "she won't let them get away with it."

She better get in line.

"Whatever," Harry shortly replied, "Who got the Seeker position?"

Ron smiled, "Ginny did! Madam Pomfrey told Katie she should be all cleared by our first game. Katie wanted a backup just in case, but they all were pants at it. Hopefully Ginny's feeling better by then otherwise we'll forfeit."

Dudley gave a small laugh, "No pressure on her right?."

Ron started laughing too and Severus simply stared at Harry who didn't find it at all amusing. Knowing Harry as well as he did, he knew the teen would give almost anything to feel the pressure of that on him if it meant he could play Quidditch again.

~~~~HP~~~~

Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep Harry overnight for observation, to which Harry flat out refused and luckily Snape had agreed with him that he should be allowed back in their quarters no later than curfew that night. At dinnertime, the medi-witch forced the other two teenagers to leave for dinner, allowing Snape to stay as long as Harry ate his dinner without too much distraction. Like Snape, Madam Pomfrey was determined to get him eating regularly this week before chemo started again on Saturday.

Once Harry had taken a few bites of his roasted chicken, Snape started on a conversation that could not have come at a worse time.

"Alton would like to test your magical strength on Friday," he stated without giving any room for Harry to argue back. "Professor McGonagall and I are coming up with a series of tests you can try to do that will allow us to compare your current level to your previous years'."

"In hopes that you can estimate how long it will take my magic to completely disappear?" Harry bluntly asked. No need to sugar coat it, which is exactly what Snape sounded like he was doing.

"Harry," the professor said, placing his hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder and giving a small squeeze, "whatever happens, we'll get through it. I promise you, you will not be left behind. If that means we both go away for a while, I'm prepared to do that."

"Hermione-thinks-you're-wrong," Harry blurted out so fast he wasn't sure Snape heard him. Taking it slower he clarified "You and Dumbledore... I think that she thinks my magic is somehow growing... or at least not going away."

Harry could see the confliction in his mentor's eyes, while trying to keep the pleading from his own. He obviously wanted Hermione to be right knowing that it was impossible though. He wouldn't have that awful pain whenever he got the chemotherapy if his magic was growing instead.

"I'll have a talk with Miss. Granger about her suspicion," Snape said after a solid minute of silence. "We've talked about this Harry. I don't want to give you false hope, the situation has not changed and the odds are not in your favor."

Swallowing back the tears that he could feel building up at the corners of his eyes, the young wizard looked away. Out the window to his right, he could see the last of the students holding off going to dinner so they could spend time in the remaining sunshine before returning to the castle for the night. They were enjoying their last carefree hours of the weekend before the pressure of classes, homework, and tests started in the morning. None of them were worrying about Voldemort attacking, none of them had to think about what they'd do if they lost their magic, and none of them had a disease circulating in their bloodstream actively trying to kill them.

Harry was so lost in his negative thoughts, he completely missed Malfoy entering the hospital wing until he saw Snape stand up from the corner of his eye.

"Meet me back at my office when you're through," the professor told Malfoy, drawing Harry's attention to them, "we have something of importance to discuss."

"Of course professor," the Slytherin said taking the seat Severus had vacated.

"I'll come by to help you back to our quarters once Madam Pomfrey officially releases you," Snape said to Harry before quietly walking around the curtain partitions and leaving.

"Come to gloat?" The Gryffindor asked aggressively.

"Hardly," Malfoy claimed, leaning forward to rest his arms across his knees, "What Crabbe and Goyle did was tasteless. Even I wouldn't sink that low."

Harry glared over not at all convinced with what Malfoy was saying.

"Besides," the Slytherin continued, "who do you think tipped off the headmaster that there was a problem?"

"It wasn't you," somehow Harry managed to keep the surprise from his voice.

"Not exactly, but it was a fellow Slytherin," Malfoy looked up at the ceiling before continuing, "we're not all evil you know."

"I never claimed you were, but what Crabbe and Goyle did was pretty close," Harry responded cautiously, not wanting to get backed into a corner.

"You and the rest of the school don't need to say a word about it; it's obvious what people think of us," Malfoy explained. "And I'll let you know that by judging us like that makes you all no different than how the Death Eaters think about muggles and muggleborns."

The statement hung between the boys like a thick, hazy cloud of dust. Harry didn't want to think it, nevertheless it was the first place his mind was taken-

He's right.

It was a viewpoint Harry hadn't considered. Were they being just as prejudiced to all the Slytherins as Voldemort and his followers were to muggles and muggleborns? He'd heard Snape say that one of the reasons he joined the Death Eaters was because he wanted some kind of vindication against his father, meaning he had judged the other muggles he killed based on his experience with his father. It was wrong and something Harry stood vehemently against, and yet here he was getting accused of doing the same thing to the Slytherin students. The realization did not leave a good feeling in his stomach.

"You're right," Harry eventually said because no matter how he'd tried to turn the situation around, he couldn't. "I shouldn't judge your housemates based on my experience with you... Or Crabbe or Goyle or Nott.

"So if you're not here to gloat, why are you here?" The Gryffindor asked.

"Whether you believe me or not, I'm coming to check on you. The last time we spoke before you ended up here with-"

"Pneumonia," Harry interrupted seeing as his classmate was having a hard time finding the right word.

"And how's that different than the Leukemia?" There was something in Malfoy's eyes that convinced Harry the Slytherin was legitimately interested to learn about his illness.

"Depends," the Gryffindor challenge, "did you find out about what Leukemia is on your own or are you trying to trick me into telling you?"

"That's fair," the blonde conceded. "Once you gave me the name, finding the information wasn't difficult to do. You have a muggle disease in your blood; I read all about it."

"And you didn't melt from touching a muggle book? How shocking," Harry mocked. "The pneumonia was an infection in my lungs. The medication to kill off the Leukemia makes it harder for my immune system to fight off any other illness. Professor Snape thinks it was from all the students returning into the school."

And suddenly another weight was magically lifted off Harry's shoulders without him even knowing it was there. He'd spent so much time angry at the teenager in front of him that for however short it lasted, he was willing to let things go between them.

Randomly, Harry remembered one of his final thoughts from their last tutoring session; that if he keeps pushing Malfoy, the spy may change his alliance back to Voldemort. Why would the blonde want to continue helping the Order if he was always being criticized and ostracized? In that moment the Gryffindor decided to take it upon himself not to let that happen. If Snape could put even a little of his trust in Malfoy, Harry could give him a little more wiggle room too, while still keeping a close eye on the Slytherin.

"If you hadn't heard yet," Harry started, "you're going to get another year against Ginny as seeker."

Malfoy gave a small smirk, "Not like that's much better. I have a feeling Quidditch will be at the bottom of my priorities this year."

"That makes two of us," Harry agreed, "I'm hoping I'll get to at least see the matches this year."

And just like that, the two wizards - both so similar and yet so different at the same time - put aside their past grievance to have their first real conversation as peers. They talked about the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams, classes for the year - specifically their agreement that the new Potions professor was insanely boring, and finally about Harry's cancer, the chemotherapy, and oddly - to Harry at least - what he thought of Healer Smithe. Harry never picked up that Malfoy had previously spoken about all of that with Snape; that the other boy was talking about it primarily to help release Harry from the burden of his illness.

Malfoy left around seven that evening and Harry got back to working on the revisions to his transfiguration essay. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was going over the conversation he had with Malfoy; amazed with how natural it was, how much lighter he felt inside now that Malfoy knew all about the Leukemia, and still unsure why the other boy had asked so much about Healer Smithe. He was slowly coming to the realization about how much he really depended on the people around him, and not just his closest friends. Now he just needed to patch things up with Hermione and he would have plenty of time to do that tomorrow when she was over for tutoring.

When Snape came back to the hospital at half past nine, Harry had his school bag packed and was ready to go. Snape on the other hand appeared exhausted; much more than he had even when they were both back at Privet Drive. Harry questioned how the man was holding up with all of this, except knew Snape would never confide in him. The young wizard decided to ask Professor McGonagall at his lesson because if anyone could get through the hard outer exterior of Snape, it would be her.

"All set?" Snape asked, picking up Harry's school bag from the floor besides the bed. "Madam Pomfrey has reluctantly released you back into my care."

Harry nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he was now in a sitting position in front of the professor. He was nervous and thought about it twice before he asked, "Everything go ok with Malfoy?"

Raising one eyebrow, the former spy did not have to say a word for Harry to know it wasn't any of his business.

"Ok fine... It's none of my concern," Harry mocked lifting his hands in the air to show he was giving in. He stood up directly in front of Snape meeting the professor's onyx eyes with his bright emerald ones, "Can we go home now?"

At that simple question, the edges of Snape's lips pulled upwards into a quick, small smile.

"Yes Harry," he said, placing his arm around the Gryffindor's small shoulders and guiding him to the medi-witch's office to use her floo, "Let us go home."