Unwanted Explanations

Impressively enough, Potter snapped out of unconsciousness barely twenty minutes after they had transported his limp body to the infirmary. Pomfrey had predicted at least a day of unconsciousness and barely started her examination after a first control had shown his condition stable.

But there he was, eyes darting open and body tensing so fast they had barely time to react. One look at the white washed ceiling seemed to be enough for him to determine his whereabouts. But of course, Potter had spent an unusual time in the infirmary, probably enjoying being fussed over and treated like a God.

"I really shouldn´t have come back." The young man whispered now. Snape was rather inclined to agree – he could have spared all of them quite a lot of trouble, but of course, the Headmaster wouldn´t share this sensible sentiment.

"Nonsense, my boy," he disagreed, clearly happy to be back in control and quite literally the one standing his ground. "Though you might not admit it to yourself, you probably came for help. And help is what you will get from us."

For a moment, Snape expected his former student to explode again. His eyes darkened and he could see his hands gripping the linen bedclothes so tightly his knuckles turned white, but then he lowered his lids and exhaled slowly. Tension trickled from his body and Snape found that after years and years of hammering it into him, the boy had – finally – learnt to control his temper.

Instead of shattering the windows of the infirmary, he relaxed back into his pillows and allowed Pomfrey to run her diagnosis scans. Only when she reached out to unbutton his black outer robes did his hand dart forward and tighten around her wrist.

"That won´t be necessary, Madame Pomfrey." He told her calmly.

"But Mister Potter, I…" She protested and tried to free her hand, but a sudden blaze from his green eyes silenced her.

I have to remember that glare, Snape told himself, having always had problems of keeping that busybody of a mediwitch at bay.

The results of the rather lengthy examination, during which Potter had refused to answer any question of a not medical nature, were as he had foretold.

"Something is obviously rather wrong with the boy." Pomfrey stated helplessly, eyes worried and posture dejected. "The damage to his neural system is extensive and his magic is running wild. He won´t survive this for long. But I can´t for the world tell what he suffers from."

Snape had watched the mediwitch´s efforts with growing apprehension. He was badly tempted to stay silent and let the brat die somewhere else, but Albus probably wouldn´t let him go even if there was no hope at all, and if his theory turned out to be true, more danger could come from this than just an untimely death. He would have to tell them.

"I believe I know what Potter suffers from." He announced into the silence, bracing himself for the chaos that would follow. Brilliant as they all might be, this staff could not be justly famed for discipline or a controlled noise level.

He simply let them babble on until all he encountered were indignant stares and muffled comments about his preference for "dramatic appearances". He didn´t even dignify that with a comment.

"What do you know about this, Severus?" The Headmaster finally asked.

"Potter´s illness is called Evanescence, or The Fading.", He calmly explained. "It is a very rare condition."

"Then how come you know about it?" Pomfrey piped in, clearly disgusted that a Potions Master would know more about an illness than she.

Snape sighed, exasperated, and sent the woman a death glare. She didn´t react, of course.

"I learnt about it because, twenty seven years ago, the Dark Lord ordered me to research and, if possible, inflict it on somebody."

He heard Tonks gasp behind him. "So You-Know-Who infected Harry with it when…"

"No Tonks," He snapped, finally at patience´s end. "We never managed to successfully produce a patient with Evanescence, and we are not in a cheap sensation novel here. Now may I continue, or are we going to turn this into a quiz game?"

"Please continue, Severus." The Headmaster said, sending warning glances to the teachers around him. Potter, Snape noticed, hadn´t moved or reacted at all, merely turned his face towards Snape and listened quietly.

"The Fading is a magical disease, comparable to a personality disorder, but not on a psychological level. The mind remains unchanged, only the magical core is affected. If a person finds himself in a situation of severe mental and physical stress, his magical core – if it is extremely strong and the wizard powerful enough to survive this process – splits in two. One part remains with the patient, while the other part enters a level of alternative reality – and no, I´m not going to explain the multiverse theory right now, Tonks. The change might not become apparent for many years, but slowly, the magical core remaining in the patient´s body will move towards its counterpart, and the wizard or witch will fade away as his magic enters the alternative reality fully."

Silence. He could get quite used to having them all speechless, if only Potter wasn´t involved in it every time.

"And the fit he had?" McGonagall asked, her voice subdued. "Why does he suffer from that?"

"Those convulsions are the effect of the growing cleft between Potter and his magical core. To put it simply – Potter´s magic is trying to get away from him and his body tries to hold it back. The results are painful and rather… dramatic."

Snape paused, waiting for Potter to say something, to protest in horror or do whatever melodramatic deed a Gryffindor usually did in the face of fatal, exotic illnesses. But the brat remained silent, an unreadable expression in his face.

"Why isn´t this recorded anywhere?", Pomfrey asked warily, "Such a severe illness! I can´t believe..."

"There are only very old, and very obscure records about the Evanescence, because the situations inducing the splitting are normally so severe that no one would survive them. Persons experiencing such a high stress level normally die. That was why Voldemort had to give up his attempt after a while. He was killing and killing and we didn´t make any process."

A strange sound interrupted him, and it took Snape a while to realize that it was a laugh. Harry Potter, soon to be dead, was sitting on the side of his bead and laughing. Sure, it was a rather hoarse laugh, raspy at best, but a laugh.

"And there we have arrived at my problem again," he chuckled dryly, "After all, I am the Boy Who Just Bloody Can´t Seem To Die."

"Don´t say that, Harry!" Minerva sounded outright shocked, but Snape found himself rather amused. If it hadn´t be Potter, he might even have joined the dark smile that tainted the man´s face. But he wasn´t going to share anything with a Potter just because this specimen had finally developed a shred of humour.

"Exactly." He commented instead, his voice even drier. "And what a bloody nuisance that is, Potter."

"Severus!" A shocked cry from Dumbledore.

But Potter chuckled again. "I couldn´t agree more, Professor." He answered without a hint of anger.

Hurt and disappointment shone in the Headmaster´s eyes, but Potter didn't seem to care, and finally, the old man turned back towards Snape.

"Is there a known treatment, Severus?"

Snape nodded. "It is even more obscure, though." He warned. "The afflicted person and a healer with strong Occlumency skills must enter the patient´s memories, exactly at the point where the split has happened. Then the Occlumens must seal the two parts of the core back together before they have torn completely apart. For this, the patient and his memory must melt and the present person must relive the past memory once more. Theoretically, that should solve the problem."

"Well, we should be able to achieve the necessary prerequisites," The Headmaster mused, already deep in planning. "Both you, Severus, and I are strong Occlumens, and we should manage to…"

"No." Potter´s voice had lost all humour, it was as cold as a January day, and again, Snape could feel the power building. "Absolutely not. Under no circumstances. I will refuse that treatment, and I will leave this instance."

"But Mr Potter, would you really prefer dying to reliving a memory?" McGonagall cried out, shocked.

There was no faltering in Potter´s face. "Yes." He simply answered.

"Unfortunately," Snape cut in, and even he couldn´t enjoy the dread that seized the young man at his words. "There is more to it."

He stopped for a moment, unsure of how to put it, but then decided that there was no nice way of saying this, and since when had he cared for being nice, anyway?

"Not only the patient will die when the magical core crosses the threshold between realities. Everything that happened after the core´s splitting, everything the person acquired, achieved or changed after The Fading was induced, will be gone as well. Whatever influence the patient had on his world, whether good or evil, will be undone."

And yet another silence, but Snape suddenly found himself wishing for the babble of noise.

"Which means," Sprout finally said in a very small voice, "That if Mr Potter´s magical core split before he defeated You-Know-Who, the Dark will again be unleashed in our world?"

He really would have preferred to deny it, but he was a scientist after all, and lies wouldn´t help them here.

"Precisely." He answered.

It took Albus less time than the others to let the news sink in. Swaying slightly, he walked over to the still sitting young man.

"Harry…" He whispered, clearly not knowing how to address him, perhaps fearing an outburst of even larger dimensions.

But again, Potter surprised them all.

"I see." He simply answered after a moment, his voice calm and controlled, but with a terrible sadness lurking in the shadows. "So my destiny isn´t fulfilled after all. Instead of dying peacefully, I once more have the honour to rescue your world, Professor."

"I wish we wouldn´t have to ask it from you, Harry. Wouldn´t have to ask it in the very beginning." Albus answered, voice and heart breaking.

"So do I, Headmaster. But what use is there in wishes?" Potter replied. Suddenly he stood, all traces of sadness or exhaustion gone. His body vibrated with energy, but his hands were calm as he smoothed the front of his robes.

"So I suppose that means someone will accompany me on a trip down memory lane?" He asked.

"Yes, Harry." The Headmaster answered, clearly relieved that Potter was taking the whole thing so well, "I will prepare rooms for you in the castle and I will acquire all information concerning this illness from Severus immediately. We should be able to start…"

"No." Again, the young man´s voice was devoid of all emotion. "If we have to do this, we will do this on my terms. Not here in the castle, but in my house. And I won´t have you enter my memories, Headmaster. I request Professor Snape to take over the treatment."

"What?" Suddenly, all the respect he had harboured for the young man´s state was gone form Snape´s mind, replaced by a cold, cutting fury. "Are you mad, Potter? This illness can´t meddle with your brain, so it must clearly be your insufferable idiocy that brought this idea with it. I refuse to spend more time with you than I already had the misfortune to…"

"Severus," An old, unbending voice interrupted his ranting like the executioner´s axe cut through nerve and bone. All hope and resistance vanished, leaving nothing but dreary resignation in Snape´s mind. He knew what would follow. He knew that tone of voice.

"I´m afraid," The Headmaster told him, eyes twinkling ever so softly, and Snape had to suppress the urge to rip those damn blue orbs out of their sockets, "That we will have to do as Mr Potter asks."

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A/N: And thus ends the exposition of this story... It´s your decision now whether I should go on with this or not... Review, and tell me what you think!