A/N This story was formerly under the account of Lukekenobi, which still exists but is closed up now. I used it for some time as a secondary account but found it easier now to put all my stories under my main penname. So, this is not some plagiarism thing – they were mine to begin with.
Minerva McGonagall surveyed the absolute chaos that still reigned in the Hall, and indeed the whole school. The dead had been gathered, the tables in the Hall been righted, but it was painfully clear that the whole school had been damaged severely. It would take months of rebuilding to restore Hogwarts to its former glory and even then, it would never be the same.
With a sad shake of her head, she remembered Albus and his eternal optimism. He would have twinkled and set to work. Or rather, twinkled and set others to work. Harry had gone off with his friends somewhere, though she wasn't sure where. The boy – no, the man had proven he could take care of himself, she didn't have to worry. He had left her the Pensieve with memories. It had hurt so much to see the children again as children. Lily, the bright girl that delighted her, James with his talent in transfiguration, and Severus. Poor Severus.
As much as she had been loyal to Albus, she couldn't help but feel anger at the old man for the way he had treated the Potions Master. Albus' faith in Severus' conversion to the Light hadn't been based on trust and friendship, but on blackmail and manipulation. She had known, of course, that her old mentor wasn't perfect as many wanted to believe. It was just that being confronted with that imperfection was painful.
Another wave of guilt hit her. Albus may not have been perfect, but what had she done? Made Severus's life even more difficult the past year, and drove him out of the school – drove him to his death. He might have lived if not for her. He would have been inside the school, out of Voldemorts reach, and within Harry's.
As she made her way through the corridors, she heard hurried footsteps behind her.
"Professor, quickly," Harry panted, his wand out, levitating a body in black cloth, "He's still alive, we must get him to the infirmary. Hurry!"
She had no time to think as the three sprinted past her on their way to Poppy. All she could do was follow.
When she entered the infirmary, Harry had lowered the body on the bed and Hermione was handing potions to Madam Pomfrey, who was simultaneously waving her wand and forcefeeding the draughts to the still figure.
The Headmistress gasped. "Severus?"
"We went to retrieve his body from the Shack," Ron explained, "and then we found that he was still breathing, though barely. We found a bezoar under his tongue, Hermione said that probably kept him alive so long. We're not sure he's going to make it though."
Hope flared, unwanted and painfully. The longer the nurse kept busy, the more she hoped, and with each slight movement of the pale chest the small ray of hope grew bigger until there was no denying it. She tried to squash it, knowing after laying in that dirty shack for so long without help, it was unlikely even the mediwitch could still save him. She found herself telling herself that Severus had always been strong and stubborn – that he would get through this.
Finally the mediwitch straightened. "Thank you," she said to the trio, "now we have to wait. I have to ask you to leave now – I need to clean him up and get him into clean clothes. He is a very private person…"
Harry nodded immediately while Hermione blushed slightly, and the three left the infirmary after a last glance.
The mediwitch then turned her attention to the Headmistress, who stared defiantly back. "I am not going anywhere, Poppy, so I might as well help you."
A few more glares and the nurse gave in. "Alright. You get him out of those filthy clothes while I fetch some water to clean him up. Be careful."
"Always," the Headmistress muttered, gently stroking the still cold cheek with her finger. She cut the robes rather than try to wrestle him out of them. A levitation charm, and they were easily removed. When the other witch returned with warm water, cloths and towels they gently washed off the blood and dirt. The wounds in the neck had scabbed, finally, and after cleaning a bandage was applied to it. The warm water also brought necessary heat to the body and when they were done, the Potions Master was breathing a little easier.
Finally he was dressed in a gown and covered with warm blankets.
"There's nothing we can do but wait now, Min," Poppy sighed, "I've done all I can. His body may have been too weakened to recover. If he lives through the night, he probably will recover. It's touch and go right now."
"You go to bed," Minerva said, conjuring a comfortable chair, "I'm going to stay."
"Are you sure? You've been stretched too thin the past days, weeks, as well."
Poppy had her answer when the thin lips straightened into a line. "We've done him much wrong," the Transfiguration Professor stated, "I did him much wrong. Staying with him now is the least I can do."
She sat down almost regally, taking the limp hand in her own and settling her eyes on the gaunt face.