Saturday 2, November 1996
~~~~HP~~~~
Unlike the day of the Gryffindor Quidditch trials, the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season - Gryffindor versus Slytherin - was dark, dreary, and threatened rain. After debating all week about whether he wanted to go, Harry had finally decided last night that he would attend, yet now he found himself disappointed by the fact that he may not be able to if the weather didn't hold out. It was one thing to walk to the Herbology greenhouse in Thursday's morning monsoon and another to sit out in the stands getting soaking wet for Quidditch. Somehow he got the feeling Snape would not agree to that.
So it was with a heavy heart that the young wizard sat down at the kitchen table on Saturday morning without a single piece of Quidditch or Gryffindor gear on.
"Have you decided not to attend the game this morning?" Snape asked without lifting his head from the book he was reading. Harry tried to see what the topic was today, but as always the former spy held it in just the right way to protect his own privacy.
"Have you happened to look outside?" Harry questioned back. "I kind of assumed you wouldn't let me go if it was storming."
At that statement, Snape lifted his eyes and narrowed them at the Gryffindor.
"Last I saw it wasn't actually raining," he said skeptically, "and we are wizards you know, things can be done to keep you safe. However if you are using the potential weather as a reason not to attend, I won't make any further suggestions."
Harry had to take a moment to think through what he'd just been told. After the long week of classes, plus tutoring, his mind was a little slower at registering that the professor had basically told him he could still go to the match. His emerald eyes brightened as the light bulb flashed above his head.
Do wizards use that phrase?, he questioned to himself.
"So I can still go then?" He asked to confirm before he really got his hopes up.
"Assuming it's a reasonable rain and not torrential, yes, you can still go."
Harry felt on top of the world, proving just how much he actually wanted to go and see the match regardless of what he'd said before. So what if the whole school was there? They'd already all seen him from the Daily Prophet article and walking through the corridors between classes, this would be his time to get to enjoy something for once this year. With that thought fueling his resolve, the young wizard quickly finished a little over half of his breakfast, and went back to his room to change into his Gryffindor Quidditch jumper, scarf, gloves, and a warm hat.
"How's Ron handling it all?" Harry asked Hermione and Dudley, as they walked out from the dungeons to the pitch.
"Bad question," Dudley mumbled and Hermione gave a frustrated huff.
"I wouldn't know," she declared, "Ronald and I aren't exactly on the best talking terms as of right now."
Harry took a glance behind the Gryffindor witch's back towards Dudley who gave a small shake of his head. Thinking back on the week, the two of them did seem a little cold towards one another in the later part of the week, and Harry guessed it had to do with Ron's new relationship with Lavender. The redhead hadn't quite been around much since they started dating and frankly, Harry couldn't blame him. How often had the trio spent not talking to at least one of their group lately? It seemed there was always something coming between the three of them, a fact that frustrated Harry.
"Well," Harry tried to salvage the conversation, "I'm sure he'll do just fine."
"And if not," Hermione continued, "Lavender will be there to help dry his tears."
In an effort to save himself, Harry did his best to hold in his laughter. Surely she didn't think Ron would actually cry over Quidditch? This had to be one of those times where boys are just not supposed to understand girls.
As expected, walking out of the castle and onto the grounds to the Quidditch pitch was a shock to the young wizard's system. The wind was whipping passed his ears filling them with a dead howling sound that caused him to shiver independent of the cold. He pulled his hat lower to cover them while he walked with the other hoards of students down to the pitch. Even with his jumper over a long sleeved shirt and the new winter coat from Snape, he felt the cold down to the middle of his bones. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to see much of the game.
"Don't worry Harry" Hermione said, wrapping her arm around the Gryffindor wizard, "we're almost there."
Harry wanted to tell her that he obviously knew they were almost there since he could not only see the pitch, but he'd been there countless times without her help navigating. He resisted the urge though - something he was proud of himself for - as it wouldn't do any good, and he didn't want to be in a foul mood for the match.
Heading into the stands, Hermione led them down an aisle towards the middle where Harry's red blanket was already sitting, waiting for him to join. Relieved to have it with him, he covered his legs and instantly felt the familiar warmth of a heating charm battle its way against the bitter cold.
Luckily, he didn't have to sit in the cold too long before the game started. One-by-one, the members for both the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams made their way out onto the pitch. He waved to Ron as the youngest Weasley son came out holding his Cleansweep 11 firmly upright in his hand. Harry watched enviously as Ginny was the last athlete to walk out, her head held high despite the large scar that still covered half of her face. He would have given almost anything - including his Firebolt - to be down there instead of sitting in the stands watching. After a quick handshake from both captains, the game got to an exciting start with none other than Luna as their entertaining announcer for the game.
"Rightly used power play by Gryffindor up mid-pitch, Dean Thompson has the quaffle, throwing it- and it's good! Ten points to Gryffindor!" Cheers from the gold-and-red scarfed spectators erupted around the pitch, Harry included. That was almost a passable commentary by Luna Lovegood, until… "Oh, correction. It was Thomas. There is no Thompson playing. Or part of either team. I actually don't think there's even a Dean Thompson at Hogwarts."
The match had been vicious and high energy enough for Harry to forgive her awful announcing. Their fast-paced plays made up for her lackluster knowledge. Even though Gryffindor got a quick start, it wasn't long before Slytherin gained the lead by twenty points for a stable fifty to Gryffindor's rising thirty. A light rain had begun to fall in a thin sheet, mostly inconsequential to the lively crowd watching, but prickling the players faces as they dove and rolled through dramatic aerial maneuvers.
The Seekers zig-zagged briskly around the pitch, weaving back and forth to avoid players and the bludgers that threatened to end their game prematurely. With sharp speed to rival his opponent, Malfoy had jerked his broom upwards at the last moment to narrowly avoid getting unseated. From his altitude and velocity, the fall would've been detrimental to his team's chance.
Harry was disappointed that neither Malfoy nor Ginny were gaining any significant ground in catching the snitch, which placed more pressure on the chasers to adopt aggressive tactics and the keepers to meet them in kind. Having been in their position before, he knew they'd both be wanting to end this game as quickly as possible, especially as the rain started picking up.
Twirling on her broomstick as the bludger skimmed beside her, Demelza Robins turned sharply to her left and reverse passed back to the Gryffindor captain, Katie Bell. It was ground lost but moved the ball from a congested position to one with better upfield potential if Bell could prove to move fast in either passing or taking her chances to carry it.
Luna's amplified voice echoed around the pitch: "Smooth play there by Robins. She threw the ball over her shoulder. Not in the direction of the goal posts, but she looked good doing it."
Harry watched intently for the Snitch himself, when he saw a blurred flash of red and green soar high above the other players as the Seekers chased the snitch, their speeds battling against one another. The Snitch was too fast, however, and the crowd groaned when neither player reached it in time.
Moving his attention away from the seekers, the Slytherins' defense had proved themselves surprisingly talented that season, especially in flanked body blows, and Katie Bell didn't seem keen on experiencing it. A dramatically angled curve ball passed the quaffle from Bell to Thomas, and immediately from Thomas to Robins, who had fought to fly a distance away from the Slytherins power play to open herself up.
The Slytherins, seeing their opponent's forward maneuver, collapsed into aggressive defense patterns: Crabbe and Goyle sent a perfectly timed bludger towards Thomas to cut off any chance of back passing, while Zabini dashed across the pitch until the tip of his broom collided with the side of Robins.
"I'm supposed to now make vague references to Slytherin's defensive formation without ever explaining what that actually means." Luna paused. "Oh, I wasn't supposed to read that note aloud."
Harry shook his head with a smirk on his face; some day he was determined to find out exactly what went on in Luna's mind on a daily basis. He glanced across the pitch and saw Snape also giving a small smirk at the eclectic Ravenclaw's commentary, however Professor McGonagall did not look nearly as amused. At this point, the rain had started really pouring down and Harry noticed that while he was getting colder from the weather, all of his clothes and blanket stayed perfectly dry. He wrapped his blanket over his head to further protect him from the elements when he made contact with Snape's black obsidian eyes and silently thanked the professor for thinking ahead about things like the rain.
Focusing back on the game, Harry was happy to see that even with the bellicose tactic from Zabini, Robins wasn't shoved off-course enough to loosen her grip on the ball. The quaffle sailed sharply towards a goalpost in a knuckle ball throw, looking flawless and true but got knocked at the last moment by Slytherin's Keeper.
The teams rivaled one another well, each returning tic-for-tac. The grueling match roared on in a kaleidoscope of expertly executed plays that were met with impressive defenses. Eventually, though, the bludger bested Beater Ritchie Coote and his poorly timed swing, causing the ball to make contact with the edge of his bat and sent veering in the opposite direction he wanted. Directly towards the Slytherin and Gryffindor chasers Thomas and Vaisey. The two rivals, not expecting the ball to be suddenly sent their way, had the different ideas of how to avoid it. Thomas pitched to the left while Vaisey tried to turn sharply to the right. Their collision looked painful, stunning the two long enough to give the bludger opportunity to hit both of them and unseat them from their brooms. Silence descended on the pitch for a moment as they free fell from, luckily, their low-aerial positions. They both landed in a messy heap of robes and intertwined limbs that looked thankfully unbroken and retained their natural angles.
If there were any thoughts over whether they were injured, they were quickly dispelled when Vaisey abruptly got to his feet with an angry scowl, grabbed Thomas by the front of his robes, and yanked him to his knees long enough for him to throw a punch at his face.
Bells signifying a foul instantly blared as professors and referees rushed out on the pitch, yelling at the fighting boys to separate, and captains called an immediate time-out.
Luna cleared her throat. "I should make a comment about how nobody likes to see fighting in the game, but you probably can't hear it because the fans are cheering so loudly. Just pretend to be horrified like me."
Once back on their brooms and rejoined with their team, the foul was put against Slytherin for starting the brawl, which placed the ball back into Gryffindor's hands and allowed a foul throw. The players were forced to watch as Thomas and Slytherin's Keeper faced off one another, the former pitching the quaffle snappishly at the center goalpost. The throw seemed straight, convincing enough that the Keeper remained in the central pitch to intercept it. But the curve sprung late, and the quaffle turned itself sharply at the last moment, too late for the Keeper to correct his committed projectory.
Ten more points were added to Gryffindor and at this point, Harry knew both teams had to be dying for the Snitch to be caught. If he were out there, that would be exactly what he would be aiming to do - find the Snitch as quickly as possible before Slytherin could rack up anymore points. Their teams were too evenly matched at this point of the year for a game like this to be enjoyable in the current weather.
Hermione wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and he was just about to turn to her to say he was heading back when the crowd erupted around him. Malfoy and Ginny had both taken off for the Snitch heading towards the top of the stands directly above them. Harry held his breath when it appeared that Malfoy delayed his start too long and he ended up a full four meters behind Ginny on the race to win the game. Even on his fancier broom, Harry knew the blonde wouldn't be able to catch up from that distance. It took less than a minute for Ginny to make it to the top of the stands and catch the Snitch.
"Ooh," Luna called out nonchalantly as the crowd - specifically the Gryffindor's - cheered jubilantly, "it looks like Gryffindor just won the first game.
"The three star players of this match are..." There was the sound of paper shuffling. "Hmm… Ron Weasley, Vincent Crabbe, and Draco Malfoy. Which doesn't make any sense because I was only given thirty seconds to pick them."
Harry gave out a large laugh, completely ignoring the almost freezing rain that was now pelting against his face. He didn't care, it had been far too long since he'd felt this warm inside of him. There was something about being surrounded by his fellow housemates, celebrating a win like this that made everything else around him seem to disappear.
It was the young wizard's first time being back in the Gryffindor common room since his diagnosis, and while everything looked exactly the same - as he was sure it had for centuries - there was something that seemed different to him as he sat on the soft red sofa in front of the blazing fire. The Gryffindors were mid-celebration after their win against the Slytherins when Hermione sat down beside him with a book held tightly in her hands.
"You look tired," she said in a way that wasn't as insulting as it would have been coming from someone like Ron, but was more heartfelt.
"I am," he replied honestly, watching the people around the room dancing around. "I figured since I've pretty much been released from quarantine, I should be here, but it's been a really long day already."
He could tell there was something bothering his friend and a quick glance in the direction her eyes were watching made it obvious she was not ok with Ron and Lavender's rather public display of affection. Seeing his understanding, Hermione jerked her head down and pretended to read the book she'd brought over.
"When did that start exactly?" Harry tentatively asked the witch.
"I'm honestly not sure," she said with a look of disgust, "it was like one day they just were."
The two of them sat in silence, loud cheers surrounding them.
"You should tell him how you feel," Harry tensed, anticipating getting hit, jokingly of course, by her.
"It's fine," Hermione shrugged, something that was out of character for her, "I don't even know what it was I was feeling… does that make sense?"
In some weird way, it did to Harry. He thought back to his feelings about Cho last year and how confused he was about it in the end. This year, he had too many other things on his mind to think about girls and crushes, but that didn't mean it wasn't all around him. This was another prime example of how life had continued at Hogwarts without him.
"Did you find anything about… you know, the topic we discussed last week?"
He wasn't sure why he didn't want to say the word Horcrux out loud, but something deep inside of him told him it was something other people shouldn't know about. Luckily, Hermione caught onto what he was implying.
"No," she said with a look of deep concern on her face, "I've checked several books on ancient magical artefacts and now I'm working my way through magical theory books on the off chance Dudley was right about it being related to our magical cores."
He contemplated if he should tell Hermione where he'd read about the word. On the one hand - the only hand, really - Hermione had always been fundamental in their quest for knowledge on all of their many challenges since first year. As much as he hated to admit it now, she'd even been right about Voldemort sending him the false vision about Sirius, which went to show how good her intuition was.
"I think Dudley might be right," he eventually said, "about it being related to our magic. I really found that word in one of Severus's notes, and along with the note about it being a container he wrote that he thought it might be how I got the cancer in the first place."
Hermione's face lit up with this information for a second before she furrowed her brows in disappointment, "You should not invade his privacy like that, Harry."
Totally knew this was coming.
"I know that, 'Mione," he said respectfully. "You have to trust me, this time it just kind of happened… but does that help you narrow down the search?"
"It narrows down why you can't ask him yourself," she gave him an exasperated look. "If Professor Snape thinks this… container… is related to how you got Leukemia, then it has to be in the magical theory books somewhere. When I was researching cancer in wizards, everything said that your magic should have been able to kill off the cancer before it took over. So if this container is what holds our magic, maybe yours is broken and that's why it didn't work?"
Her face gave Harry zero confidence that she actually believed what she'd just said. It was a start, though, and for Hermione, sometimes that was all it took.
Harry stayed up in the Gryffindor common room until dinnertime, but he spent the second half of the afternoon with the other Gryffindor wizards, which included Ron who was still practically attached to Lavender's side. Regardless, it was nice to simply spend time with his friends relishing in their win against the Slytherins. This was the first real weekend - besides the one after waking up from pneumonia - that he didn't have chemotherapy. And even though Monday's treatment would come too quickly, he wasn't going to let it get him down. Dean and Seamus tried to convince Harry to go to the Great Hall with them for dinner, but in the end Harry was simply too tired after the exciting day and told them he'd be back to hang out with them soon.
"Have fun celebrating your win?" Harry was asked the second he walked into the kitchen, causing the Gryffindor to jump.
Malfoy was sitting at the table that was set for two. Harry silently questioned if he was interrupting the two Slytherins' dinner and if he should have gone to the Great Hall with other Gryffindors.
"As a matter of fact," Harry replied, just a touch smugly, "we had an excellent time celebrating your loss."
"Very funny, Potter," Malfoy replied, sullenly. "Are you going to sit down?"
"I assumed this was for you and Severus," The Gryffindor said, sitting down in his usual spot. Upon a second glance, the table setting had his evening medications sitting out next to his plate so he should have known it was for him. Plus, in addition to his dinner, he also had a smoothie that he was still drinking daily in an effort to try to gain back some of his lost weight. "Great flying today, by the way. It was a nail-biter ending to see who would make it to the Snitch first."
"You don't have to be a git about it," the blonde retorted.
Something about the way Malfoy said it made Harry pause in his competitive banter. It wasn't meant as an insult and he was sure the other teen wouldn't take it as such; he was obviously wrong. Something had gotten to the Slytherin and Harry could finally see just how tired Malfoy appeared. Harry was once again forced to look beyond his own situation and try to think about how things had been from Malfoy's point of view.
"Sorry," Harry started with, "it was just a joke. What's going on?"
Taking a bite of his food, Malfoy replied, "It's nothing. Weasley's sister just out flew me today, is all."
Both boys sat there in an uncomfortable silence as they slowly ate through their plates of food.
"What's that?" Malfoy genuinely asked, pointing to his smoothie.
"It's to help me gain some weight," Harry replied. As if it were a suggestion, he took a sip from the goblet. "It's my new doctor's initiative that I gain more weight."
"Have you seen yourself lately?" Malfoy declared. "In case you haven't noticed, you look dreadful. I'd say whatever this healer wants you to do, you should do it without question."
"I said doctor," Harry somberly corrected, "not healer. Healer Smithe was replaced with a muggle doctor."
Why did I just tell Malfoy that?!
"Oh that's right; Severus mentioned that. But you're a wizard," the Slytherin couldn't hide the insulting sound from his voice, "Skeeter's article only said you could become a squib, you're not there yet are you?"
"Not yet," Harry mumbled too low for the other teen to hear him. This was a topic he had been struggling with since he found out he would be having a muggle physician going forward; it felt like everyone had already assumed he'd lost his magic and he was no longer worthy of a magical healer. He knew it wasn't logical at all, yet it didn't curb the anger and resentment that filled him up inside. The Gryffindor was so focused on his inner thoughts, he missed the insightful look Malfoy was giving him.
"Granger's been in the library searching through magical theory books like crazy," the Malfoy heir carefully said, "does it have anything to do with why you need a muggle healer?"
"You've noticed Hermione… reading books?" Harry sarcastically asked, questioning to himself why Malfoy would take notice of Hermione to begin with. "No offense Malfoy, but I would have hoped your observation skills would be better honed by now."
"You can be a complete git sometimes, you know that?" The Slytherin spat back. "What I meant is that she's nose deep in magical theory books at the same time you've got a muggle disease, a muggle doctor, and can't use your magic. It doesn't take Merlin himself to put the pieces together. I'm just wondering what she's looking for in there."
Deciding Malfoy was not the person to have this conversation with, Harry frowned and asked, "Where did Severus go?"
"Very subtle, Potter. He's meeting with the headmaster over something or other," the blonde answered, then he took a long sip of his pumpkin juice. "We were brewing, but he got called out."
"Oh yeah," Harry mocked, "the mysterious potion you're working on for the Order."
At that statement, it was Malfoy's turn to be caught off guard and he gave the Gryffindor an odd stare; one that made Harry feel particularly uncomfortable.
"What did I say this time?" Harry finally asked, feeling more than a little frustrated at having to navigate Malfoy's apparent moodiness.
"Severus told me this wasn't for the Order," the Slytherin said almost breathlessly. Harry could see the wheels turning in Malfoy's head as he was unknowingly putting together the pieces to the same puzzle Hermione was currently researching.
"Maybe it's not the same thing then."
"Do you really think that Professor Snape would have two mysterious potions he's working on?" Before Harry could respond, Malfoy lifted his hand, chuckled, and said, "never mind, he probably has more than either of us want to know about."
It was pretty much what Harry was going to say about it too. Since moving in with Snape, the young wizard tried not to think about what kinds of things the professor was working on in his laboratory. At the bare minimum, he was one hundred percent sure the man could easily kill someone by poisoning them without anyone being able to detect a thing. He shivered at that thought, but before he could continue asking Malfoy about what they were working on, Snape walked into the room.
"You're eating," the professor said, stating the obvious. Harry looked down at his empty plate; sometime while talking to Malfoy, he managed to finish eating - probably for the first time since starting chemotherapy - his entire dinner.
"I did!" Harry proudly said, before his face fell once again. "Just in time for another treatment on Monday."
~~~~SS~~~~
To say Severus was happy when he walked into the kitchen and saw Harry's empty plate would be an understatement; he was elated. Harry had always struggled to eat - even between chemotherapy rounds - simply due to a practically non-existent appetite; something that, deep down, Severus thought should have been handled by now. The professor couldn't help thinking back to all the times he'd expressed his concerns to Alton and the healer said everything was normal or that everyone reacted differently. A fire burned within him when he considered how much different Harry's treatment might have gone so far had they decided on the muggle Pediatric Oncologist to start.
Shaking his head of those "what if's" - knowing it was a dangerous game to play - he continued into his office with Draco in his wake. They had spent most of the afternoon preparing the potion for the Chimera Scales and he now needed to discuss with the blonde how picking up the illicit ingredient would work.
The door slammed behind Draco and he gestured for the teen to take the seat in front of his desk.
"Why would you get Potter a muggle doctor?"
Unfortunately, Draco had other plans for where their conversation would start. It was none of his Slytherin's business, however given their conversation earlier in the week regarding the boy's change of career path, he validated it with an answer.
"Dr. Swanson is a pediatric oncologist," he steepled his fingers while he sat tall and confident behind his desk, "since Harry is both a child and has cancer, it makes perfect sense to have that type of physician."
"But he's still a wizard."
Severus sighed in deep regret for the teen across from him. Life was not black or white; good or evil; magical or non-magical. It was a lesson he was coming into learning on his own, yet he still had a ways to go.
"I will not be discussing Harry's magical status with you," the professor dismissed and immediately cringed inside. A Slytherin like Draco would read between the lines of what he didn't say in that sentence - that Harry may not have a magical status to discuss at this point - so he played his own Slytherin tactic and changed the subject, "I spoke with the headmaster regarding your change of post-Hogwarts plans and he has agreed to allow you to assist Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing."
If Draco was surprised or angered by him taking the initiative to the headmaster, the teen did not react. Severus knew at a minimum he had to be calculating in his head where he could possibly add time to his already saturated schedule, and yet he didn't flinch. The former spy was proud of his protégé for being able to hold his emotions at bay.
"I think it will help in your decision about if healing is the right career path for you," the professor continued to explain.
"And when will I be starting this extracurricular activity?" Draco asked indignantly.
"You'll do a little here and there, but it will pick up once the potion is completed at the end of this month," the former spy explained.
A dead silence fell between them and Severus knew the teen was ruminating within his mind.
"Do you think I can do it?" Draco uncharacteristically asked. It was highly un-Malfoy like to express any doubts in oneself, though Severus was extremely pleased to hear this development in the teen.
"Yes, Draco," Severus said confidently, "I think you will make an excellent healer given some direction and refinement. The good news is that should you change your mind and direction back towards a career in potions, or really any other discipline, you won't have lost any ground while exploring the arts of healing, as the two disciplines are so intertwined on one another."
The Malfoy heir was nervously wringing his hands together, reminding Severus so much of Harry. It was the posture both boys used when they were discussing a topic that made them uncomfortable.
"Everything will be ready for the Chimera Scales that we'll be picking up this Wednesday afternoon," he folded his arms across his chest and he started to explain the plan to Draco.
He'd arranged with Horace to excuse the blonde from his Potion's lesson after lunch. They would then meet at the entrance hall and the two of them would walk to Hogsmeade together where they would then disapparate straight to Knockturn Alley. If luck were on their side, they'd be back in the castle before dinner without too much fanfare. The Chimera Scales wouldn't be actually used until Friday - giving him and Draco plenty of time to prepare them - and if things really went south, the latest he could add them to the potion would be Sunday; after which he would need to start the potion over again. It would give him three additional days to find an alternative method for securing the illicit ingredient; it was less than ideal, but he could work within that time frame. In his experience though, once the contact set the date, the deal was pretty much done assuming the buyer had the right currency.
"What are you offering Matthew as payment for the Chimera Scales?" Draco asked, once he'd gone through most of the plan. "I imagine he'd have a high price for something like this."
"And how could you possibly know what Matthew's prices would be like?" Severus rhetorically asked.
He had no doubts that the teen had engaged in similar activities in this reality as his old one, yet he'd never actually been caught by the professor. The shocked face on the teen across from him was almost enough to make him give up what he knew from his old reality, alas he decided to keep that tidbit to himself... for now.
"You'd be surprised what other's place value in, Draco," he elusively continued. "While I happen to have my own stock of difficult to find or questionably legal ingredients I could have offered, it's a matter of finding the right payment for your specific seller. And I just so happened to know that Matthew is in need of Threstral saliva for an urgent project of his own, which Hagrid has graciously allowed me to go and collect."
The blonde gave a face of disgust to his professor and actually caused the former spy to give a small laugh.
"And yes," Severus added ominously, "that was as grotesque to collect as you would imagine."
The professor had originally planned to take off Monday for Harry's next round of chemotherapy, however the Gryffindor was adamant that he did not want Severus skiving class over it - almost his exact words this morning over breakfast - and therefore he wouldn't see the young wizard again until he stepped back into his quarters for lunch.
Minerva was sitting on the sofa - she had a break period before lunchtime that day and offered to stay with Harry - when he entered with his arms full of new essays to mark this week. Since he'd be giving an exam in almost all of his courses during the second half of the week, he was determined to complete his marking by Wednesday, also the day he'd be going to pick up the Chimera Scales with Draco, to try and stay ahead. Placing the rolled up parchment onto the sitting room table, he sank into his armchair, already knowing he would never be able to commit to that.
"Rough start, Severus?" The Transfiguration professor asked, not even lifting her eyes from her own marking she had been working on.
"Something like that," he replied. "How did this morning go?"
Harry's treatment was only two hours this morning and it felt like something was missing because he'd been gone through all of the treatment; he left before Madam Pomfrey came by for the blood test and returned after Dr. Swanson ended the chemotherapy.
"Molly said he did fine," the elderly witch communicated, completely unaware of how much the defense professor detested that word. "He's been asleep in his room since I've been here."
Severus furrowed his brows with a frown. That was particularly odd; Harry rarely slept after his treatments. He stood to go and check on the Gryffindor, except Minerva held her hand up to stop him.
"Let him sleep, Severus. I've just checked on him," she lectured. "Go eat lunch, then you can handle whatever it is you think is bothering you. Occasionally, you need to think of yourself first, and it won't do either of you any good waking that boy up right now."
She was right. Severus didn't like that fact, but he respected her enough to listen to her advice this time. So he made his way to the kitchen, making sure to have his sphere with him just in case.
On Monday's he had his own open period after lunch and decided to use that time - without his colleague present - to find out if anything was going on with Harry. He made a smoothie for the young wizard for lunch, and made his way to the Gryffindor's bedroom.
When his knock went unanswered, he pushed the door open and called out quietly so as not to wake the teen if he were indeed still asleep, "Harry? Are you alright?"
The lanterns in the corner were dimmed, but the sun was shining through the enchanted window casting a glow on the Gryffindor in his bed. Severus immediately noticed two things that were off the moment he entered the room: first was the acidic smell of vomit in the room, and the second was the labored breathing from Harry.
"Harry? I brought you a smoothie," he placed the goblet down on the desk. The young wizard was half way sitting up in the bed with his back turned towards the professor.
"No, thank you," the teen said with a shaky voice, not turning around or making much movement at all. Something was clearly wrong, Harry was still breathing heavily and Severus could now see his pyjamas shirt clinging to his chest from sweat.
"Are you alri-"
"I'm fine," Harry yelled, balling his bedspread into his fists. "Will you just leave me alone?!"
Reeling back as if he'd been physically hit by the verbal attack, the professor frowned and moved to stand directly behind Harry. From the angle where he stood, he could clearly see what the problem was even though the young wizard tried to turn further away. His bed and pyjamas were covered in yellow vomit, but most notably to Severus was the fact that Harry's unintentional magic did not assist in cleaning it up as had happened in the past when there had been similar accidents.
"What happ-" he started to ask, but was interrupted yet again.
"I was sleeping, alright?" Harry's eyes pleaded for him to understand how embarrassed this made the Gryffindor, "Can you go? I'll take care of this."
Deciding to take control of the situation, he pulled out his wand and vanished the sick from Harry's bed and pyjamas.
"Let's get you to the lavatory," he said while peeling away the blankets, intending to ask a house elf to get them to the wash, he reached down and helped Harry up from the bed.
Upon making it to the lavatory, Harry immediately started to sick up again, into the loo this time, and Severus noticed the lack of the black substance.
That's certainly peculiar.
He pushed that observation to the side while he ran the warm water in the tub and then aided the Gryffindor in removing his clothing to his undergarments. Harry fussed about not needing the help, but Severus refused to leave until he was settled in the tub with the sphere next to him in case anything should happen before he was done. While Harry cleaned himself off, the professor went back into the teen's bedroom to freshen the air and remake the bed with new linens.
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry," he explained, once the young wizard was back in bed trying unsuccessfully to drink the smoothie. "This is part of the treatments, you know that."
"What I know, is that it's easy for everyone else to say things like that," Harry angrily spat back. "Two days ago I was celebrating in the common room with my friends and today I wake up covered in my own fucking vomit! Try again, Snape, there's definitely something to be embarrassed about."
His heart broke at the despair radiating from Harry and being called by his surname drew his attention to how distraught the teen was over the incident. Something like this was bound to happen. They hadn't considered the possibility that Harry being around his friends might cause him to feel more isolated mentally than when he was physically quarantined away. Now the Gryffindor knew exactly what was going on without him; how life had kept moving and how it was like he was left standing still. It made days like today - what should have been an easier chemotherapy day - more difficult to handle when he was mourning the loss of the normalcy he'd felt all week.
Severus stayed besides Harry in complete silence until the ill wizard managed to fall back asleep. He dismissed Molly when she returned to watch over Harry and the professor didn't show up to his afternoon lessons; first year Ravenclaws with Hufflepuffs. In fact, he didn't move from Harry's bedside, using the time between Harry being sick to continue to add his theories and observations from the day, until Albus walked through the young wizard's bedroom door.
"You missed your afternoon class, Severus," the headmaster stood in the partially opened doorway. He was wearing an inquisitive expression on his face when he approached the bed. "And you've just about missed dinner. Was it a hard day for him?"
"Not in the way you're thinking," Severus whispered. "There were… other issues today."
He stood without saying another word and walked towards the door knowing Albus would follow in his wake. When both wizards were seated in the sitting room, Severus had the awful feeling of déjà vu; back to the day of Harry's funeral in his old reality when they both sat in these same positions, and Albus had brought him the red potion that would forever change his life.
"The black substance has gone," the defense professor broke the heavy silence between them. "I had noticed it getting lighter since it's discovery, however today there has been none."
"What do you make of it, my boy?" The headmaster didn't hide his curiosity over the observation that was made. "Could you have been incorrect in your assumption of its origins?"
"No," the professor replied with a grimace, "his unintentional magic has lessened as well, which still supports the idea that this dark magic - as I'm assuming it is - is directly correlated to his new magic."
"But," Albus motioned for him to continue.
"Except," Severus placed his notebook open-faced to a calendar showing Harry's treatment schedule and magic incidences, "if you'll notice, his magic was strongest during the harshest of his medications."
"We knew that already, Severus," Albus reminded the man in front of him.
"Yes, but now we know for sure," he pointed to the month of July, "he had none of this happening when he started chemotherapy, which I assumed was because there hadn't been enough build-up in the muggle medications yet, however you can see it dissipated again between the two hard weeks of phase one of consolidation, and has yet to return during this phase."
"What does that matter?"
"It confirms that we absolutely can preserve his magical core!"
At that statement, the professor stood and started pacing while running his hands through his dark, still-greasy hair. It made perfect sense to him now; he knew what was going on within Harry and how they could use this to the Gryffindor's advantage going forward. In his mind, he contemplated the idea he had just fallen into. If the lighter - for lack of a better word - medications can't penetrate to the soul fragment's block, then that would essentially keep the block intact and protect his magic underneath. With only one set of hard medications coming up, should Harry start to reuse his magic during that time, it should be enough to get him through the last of the worst parts of chemotherapy. After that, the block wouldn't be touched again and Severus could work on removing the soul fragment, giving Harry access to his missing core filled with raw, untrained magic.
In short, the Gryffindor would sacrifice his first layer of magic to the harshest of the chemotherapy in order to keep the soul fragment intact. It would then leave him without magic until they managed to remove the soul fragment, but afterwards, he would be introduced to a reserve of raw, untouched magic potential.
This radical idea would be awful for the wizarding world as a whole, since the Dark Lord would be unable to be killed prior to the destruction of the Horcrux - Harry - nevertheless Severus didn't give a damn about the supposed prophesy and Harry's "destiny" to kill the Dark Lord. If they wanted to place their future in the hands of a child, they would have to wait until Harry was done with chemotherapy and his new magic retrained. After all, Severus's responsibility was to the teenager sleeping in the next room over, and he would do whatever it took to protect him. The professor lifted his head to see the headmaster's very confused eyes watching him intently, knowing that the man before him would vehemently disagree with the idea of intentionally letting the Dark Lord continue to gain power.