Title:
Twenty-one days

Prequel to:
A few days more

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 22nd 2009

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
AU / Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle enfolds its own magic. Can some students survive for the next twenty-one days?

Disclaimer:
Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?
Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?
Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …

Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in twenty-one days
"The house of Salazar Slytherin, a house that is worth being proud of." He then said, his dark brown eyes suddenly hard and pitiless. "Dermed jeg drikker opp Severus Snape, en stolt mann, en modig kriger og en betrodd venn. Kan du finne din vei til Odin's Hall – skål, min venn." He said, lifting the drinking-horn at his lips and emptying its contents in one go before throwing it to his right in a harsh and angry gesture, directly at the feet of the ministry officials who looked startled at the item that lay there unmoving, accusing, not even dripping one drop of the mead it had been filled with before the stranger had emptied it in one go.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and turned back to the students who looked at him startled and wide eyed. "And still – you are without a head of house right now – and so listen and remember: my name is Hereweald Hrothgar from Norway, and if you ever need someone willing to continue Severus Snape's work, then you will have to find me. Takk skal du ha, thank you!"

Chapter twenty-two
Day sixteen - Monday, seventeenth of September
Pawns, Flowers, and uncle Voldie

"Could we do transfiguration today, sir?" Harry asked tiredly and Severus looked over at the child. He looked as tired as his voice sounded, dark circles beneath his eyes indicating that he didn't sleep too well lately, nor too long or too much. The boy was getting weaker and weaker by the day now and he could see the daily changes clearly.

"Of course, we could, Harry." He quietly answered, trying to put up a good front. The last thing the child right now needed was worrying because he noticed that he was worried. "What is it you do not understand?"

"Well, the transfiguration from one magical creature into another one." The boy answered and Hermione quickly came over to them, as well as Draco and Theodore.

Ronald Weasley, Gregory, and Vincent were playing a game of chess and wool, whatever exactly that was. It however contained the chess pieces and trying to make them jump over the bits of wool that the boys had tightened crisscross-like over the chess board, making the chess pieces stumble off the board in the attempt. He just hadn't found out the purpose of the game yet, as – apparently – Vincent was in the lead while Ronald had more pieces and Gregory less pieces than him laying beside the board.

Well, maybe the only purpose of the game was to make the chessmen jumping at all, and for a moment he remembered a scene a few days ago. He didn't quite remember when exactly it had happened, and he was too tired to have a look into his records right now, but it had been at one day or another during the beginning and it had been an important moment, at least in his opinion, and not only for Harry, but for the others as well.

Perhaps even for him.

Flashback

"Sir!" Potter called out, actually screamed through the room, startling all of them. "Professor!"

"What is it, Mr. Potter?" He asked, coming over to the table the children had pushed together just the day before, his dark eyes piercingly on the smallest one of his students, but he could see nothing that could be wrong. The child, however, had his eyes on the game of chess they were playing, and he frowned, large green eyes staring transfixed at the chessboard.

"The pawn, sir!" The boy called out, his eyes still never leaving the board.

"It is about to checkmate you, Potter, yes." He drawled. "Very impressive, being defeated by a pawn."

"No!" The boy frowned, finally looking up at him, his eyes unbelieving, as if he should see something that wasn't there.

"Of course, the pawn has you in checkmate!" He growled. Did Potter have nothing else in his mind than calling him over, over a game of chess he was about to lose? Did he think he had nothing else to do? No potions to brew? He was trying to keep them alive as long as possible after all, for Merlin's sake! "And it is not even the only chess piece that has you in checkmate."

"Yes!" The boy finally admitted, and he took a deep breath. "But the pawn jumped!"

"Of course, it jumped, Potter!" He said, shaking his head. "Chessmen do display this particular habit after all."

"But … don't you see?" The boy gasped, nearly stumbling over his own words in his excitement. "They can jump, and they can move, and walk and destroy the other pieces. And they can even talk and listen to what we say! So … I mean, surely, they can leave … if we tell them to go to the headmaster and tell him … or open the door from the outside … or … or anything!"

Draco by now looked up at him questioningly, as did Theodore, Weasley and Longbottom.

"I begin to see your excitement, Mr. Potter." He said, narrowing his eyes, first at Potter and then at the chess pieces. "I however wonder what exactly we would have those chessmen doing when leaving the dungeon – or how they could open the door from the outside if not even the headmaster has been able to until now."

"I don't know, sir, but it surely would be worth a try?" Potter asked hopefully.

"Would they even be able to leave the dungeon?" Draco asked with a mixture of worry and hope.

"I don't know, Draco." The Potions Master answered slowly. "But I think you might be right, Mr. Potter. It definitely would be worth a try. So – go on and ask one of them to leave the dungeon with a message for the headmaster."

"Me?" Potter asked, looking up at him startled and he lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

"Of course, you, Mr. Potter." He answered. "It has been your idea after all."

"Oh." The boy made, blinking at him stupidly. Well, considering the fact that Potter had been neglected by his relatives – it wasn't so startling that he didn't believe anyone could ask him of all people to do this.

"Well?" He asked, just to get the boy from looking at him with those blasted wide green eyes and picking a chessman, asking it to leave the dungeon and to deliver a message to the headmaster.

"Oh." Potter made a second time, but then he turned towards the chess board, and after another moment during which he took a deep breath, he addressed the remaining chess pieces on the board. "You, white knight, can you leave the chessboard and the classroom? And go to the headmaster and tell him that we're still alive but need help in getting out of the dungeons? Or that he at least tried to send something down to eat? Maybe he could send a house elf down, or Fawks, he did so in my second year, and he could bring something to eat, or he could get us out of here. Fawks surely would manage, he carried Lockhart, Ron, Ginny, and me after all!"

Well, the white knight bowed and jumped off the board, and then off the table, onto one of the chairs and from there to the floor, rolling along the floor for a few inches as if trying to absorb the fall. But then he got to his feet and started running towards the door and for a moment Severus Snape really thought it might work.

End flashback

But it hadn't worked.

The knight was still running along the walls of the dungeons, looking for a way out without finding one. They had even lifted him up so perhaps he could slip through the keyhole, but it had been in vain, it hadn't been able to leave the classroom, to go through the barrier the castle had built up around this area.

The knight had even refused to go back to the game, to any game since, and the students had been forced to play without it. But it had been a great idea nonetheless, one that had shown that Harry wasn't stupid at all, that he had imagination and that he could think of the unlikeliest of all possibilities in a dire situation, and so he had given him five points for his idea, never mind if it had worked or not.

Of course, the child had been dejected afterwards, had refused the points he had given him, telling him that he didn't deserve them as it had been a stupid idea, and he had even gone as far as wiping them away when he had drawn them on the blackboard despite the child's protests.

Back then he hadn't been too pleased about the boy's stubborn and disobedient behaviour, but he had not commented on it, knowing already why Harry had acted like that, and he had just redrawn them later, while the teenager had been asleep. But now, now he knew exactly why Harry had refused them, why he had thought that he was unworthy of them, that he didn't deserve them. This particular child was just too unsure of himself, of his actions, of his ideas, of his words even, of his existence. This particular child had a much too low opinion of himself, never mind what he tried to tell him, as that low opinion had been beaten into him for twelve years.

He wasn't even sure if Harry had noticed those five points being re-added at one point or another since, and he had not dared asking him since either, fearing that the debate might come up anew. He would tell him when they were out of here, if they would manage getting out of here, that was.

However – right now Ronald, Gregory and Vincent had the chess pieces jumping over pieces of wool. Millicent, Pansy, Parvati, and Lavender were sleeping, and the others were reading. Dean and Seamus looked up from their books for a moment after hearing Harry's question, but then they continued their reading. Well, it weren't school related books they read, but he had allowed them to take some of the books he had in his office where he kept not only the schoolbooks, but novels and collections of poems or none-fictional texts as well.

Of course, Hermione had chosen the schoolbooks from year five to year seven – all of them, reading them one by one, but some of the other children had started reading the novels, just to have something that occupied their minds.

"Well, the transfiguration from one magical creature into another one is not easy and can be very dangerous, a reason as to why it is taught in your NEWT years only." Severus answered with a frown. He had not realized that Harry had gotten so far ahead with reading. He knew that the boy had chosen the textbooks from year five meanwhile, at least in the subjects transfiguration, charms, and defense and – even potions, he thought with a smirk on his face. But the book he right now had laying open on the table was a sixth year book.

"Yes, the book says so." Harry said while Neville, too, came over to their table and sat down beside Draco, something he often did, he noticed, sitting beside Draco. "There was a wizard that wanted to transfigure a rat into a mouse, but he incanted the spell the wrong way, and the rat ended up as a lion that nearly ate him."

"Indeed." Severus agreed, remembering the example. "In order to transfigure a magical creature into another magical creature, we should first know that they are different, not only in their looks, but in their magic as well. The magic of a rat definitely is different from that of a gecko for example and the magic of a lacewing fly is different from that of a bug, even if both are insects. The magic of a mouse however, and the magic of a rat, are the same as well as is the magic of a gecko and the magic of a lizard."

"So, saurian have the same magic?" Hermione asked and he frowned at the girl.

"Did you not read all the textbooks up to seventh year, Hermione?" He asked the girl.

"Uhm, yes, sir." Hermione answered. "I did. But I didn't understand this particular chapter either."

"Then, why did you not ask, child?" He inquired, his eyes piercing the girl's.

"Well, I didn't …" The Gryffindor girl stammered. "I mean … you see, you're … I didn't want to bother … and I thought …"

"I don't know what it is with all of you Gryffindors, but as it seems, you still fear I might bite off your head if you come to me with a question." He growled. "I have never turned a student away who actually wanted to learn something, and I will surely not start doing so now. If you have a question, if there is something you do not understand, then you ought to come and ask. I am a teacher after all. And even if I am the Potions Professor, I am sure that I would be able to answer most questions concerning transfiguration, charms, or defense just as well. I have visited school after all."

"Uhm … well … yes, sir." The girl said, blushing a deep red what gave her otherwise pale face a bit of colour.

"And stop the 'sir'." He growled a moment later, not really sure why he did it. "It is Severus, to all of you. Some upper grades of my Slytherins are already allowed to use my given name anyway and so it won't hurt if you do the same – in privacy! We have come rather close after all, and if I call you by your given names, you may do the same." He huffed at himself and his foolish emotional outburst.

This unfortunate imprisonment wasn't good for him or his emotional state, as it seemed! He would have Poppy having checking his mental health after they were … well …

Well, it just wasn't good for any of them, was it?

"However, generally spoken yes, Hermione, saurian do have the same magic." He quickly answered the girl's earlier question to get rid of his own feelings of foolishness – and to end the surprised looks the children regarded him with. "With a few exceptions however – like the lacewing fly – which have to be learned by heart as there is no pattern to them. The lacewing fly might be an insect, but it has not the same magic as have insects generally. And the same goes for all categories concerning magical creatures. Generally, they have the same magic, but there are exceptions. Other categories are small feline and large feline, and feline that stem from wolves."

"And fishes?" Harry asked.

"That, too, is a category in itself, yes, Harry." He answered. "As are birds, for example."

"And they all have their own exceptions?" Harry asked, a horrified look on his face.

"Yes, they all have their own exceptions." He answered with a smirk. "You will, actually, have to learn all of them, because to transfigure a magical creature into another one, we should first know the exact way their magic works. In your fifth year you will learn transfiguring different kinds of magic, but the transfiguration of one living being into another one, is one of the most difficult transfiguration studies that are existent. And one of the most dangerous, too."

"But why is it done then?" Harry asked. "I mean, why would one need a rat being transfigured into a mouse in the first place?"

"Because it is important to know how it is done if you decide becoming an animagus." He answered. "Just for example."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Hey, do you think You-Know-Who got the flowers Harry sent him yesterday?" Neville asked and Severus lifted his eyebrow and looked over at them. So – they were about to continue the game they had started the day before, and he huffed. Sending flowers to the Dark Lord, and pink flowers no less. He could imagine the madman's face at that, if he ever knew about that foolishness, that was.

"Dunno." Draco answered, a thoughtful expression on his face, and he actually had to admit – he was proud of the boy that he so easily started partaking in jokes about the Dark Lord. He, however, should definitely never do so in front of his father and he would have to talk to his godson – and his other children, especially his Slytherins – the moment they got out of here.

He didn't mind them making fun of the Dark Lord. It was proof to him that there were some more of his Slytherins who would not follow that path, but they would have to be careful the moment they were out of here – if they got out of here, that was, he again thought, realizing that lately there were a lot of 'ifs' concerning their future, even if all those ifs were the same ones – namely if they got out of here alive. But if they did, then there were some students in Slytherin who would not take it lightly, and he knew it. A lot of them didn't want to follow their parents or the Dark Lord, more than most people thought, but some did, and they would have to be careful.

"What do you think he did today?" The boy then asked.

"Dunno." Theodore answered. "Depends on – if he got the flowers or not, I guess."

"Well, if he got them, then I guess he had a heart attack." Hermione mused.

"Does he even have a heart?" Theodore muttered under his breath.

"I can assure you, Theodore, the Dark Lord does have a heart." The Potions Master couldn't help drawling at the boy's muttered question. "Never mind how heartless he might act, as it is a simple organ that does not allow him any emotions. Our emotions are not controlled by our hearts, but by our brains."

"Oh – alright." Theodore smirked. "In that case – I guess he got a heart attack then."

"And what if not?" Neville asked. "I mean, what if he didn't get the flowers? Maybe one of the Death Eaters kept them?"

"Yes, because they do love pink flowers so much." Draco drawled. "Just imagine my father sitting at the desk in his study, making goo-goo eyes at pink flowers and drooling over them."

For a moment all of them snorted at the idea, but then Neville grew serious and narrowed his eyes at the blond boy.

"Draco?" He asked, and his voice sounded worried.

"What?" Draco asked back, and it seemed he already knew what the other boy wanted to say.

"Well, it … it's your father, Draco." Neville said, and Severus couldn't help making a mental note to give him points later for his attempts to comfort Draco, but for now he refused to interrupt their discussion, knowing that it would be important – in one way or another at least – and knowing that perhaps it might end in either a tantrum, in a panic attack or in … well, anything could happen right now. "I mean, you don't have to …"

"I don't have to what, Neville?" Draco asked, his voice angry. "I know that! But do you really think I'm so happy that, most likely, it was my father that not only was present at the attack that caused this situation here, but that most likely he has even been leading the attack? Do you really think I'm happy all of you, all of us, will die because of my father? Because he had a stupid idea, whatever idea it had been in the first place? Do you think I'm happy that he didn't care about me enough to keep from attacking the school I attend? Do you … I hate it! And I hate him!"

"It isn't your fault." Neville quietly answered as if he had heard the words Draco had not spoken.

"I know." Draco sighed, calmer now. "And nevertheless, it was my father. I know that it was him!"

"You are not your father, Draco." Neville said, just as quietly as he had spoken before, but Severus heard his words nevertheless, and his eyes automatically wandered to the mattress Harry lay at, sleeping. As it seemed, Neville had more brain than he, Severus, had, or he would have seen long ago that Harry was not James. It had taken Neville only two weeks, after all, noticing that Draco was not Lucius.

"Most fortunately I'm not!" Draco growled. "But as it is my father – I'm allowed to make fun of him, at least here where he can't hear it." He then added with a shudder, and he knew exactly what Draco was not saying. If Lucius heard him, he would beat him to death without hesitation. "However, if the Dark Lord didn't get the flowers – because my father is sitting in his study and drooling over them – with goo-goo eyes – then maybe he fell off his broom and broke his neck."

"Yes – or he heard about how Harry caught the snitch in his first year, catching it with his mouth." Ronald said, the word broom having been the key word. In Ronald Weasley's eyes broom was associated with Quidditch, and Quidditch always was a subject the boy was happy speaking about.

"Nearly swallowing it, you mean, Weasley." Draco answered, still refusing to use the other boy's given name, even though he meanwhile kept himself from calling the other boy Weasel.

"Well, it was a spectacular move after all, you have to admit that." Ronald said and Draco huffed at him.

"So, what about Harry's first catch and the Dark Lord, Weasley?" The boy then asked.

"I think, maybe he tried to do it as well." Ronald mused. "But instead of just catching it with his mouth and nearly swallowing it, he actually did, and he choked to death at the snitch. End of the story."

"What a great death!" Draco shook his head.

"Whoas a grea'death?" Harry asked, opening his eyes tiredly and looking over at them.

He had sent Harry to bed after nearly two hours of discussing the transfiguration chapter he had been reading. The boy barely had barely been to keep his eyes open any longer and he had started rubbing them with his fists, and the way he had kept them half opened, squinting his eyes, had told him that they had started burning, again - and so he had sent him to bed, had told him to, at least, close his eyes for a while if he was unable to sleep.

But he had fallen asleep, rather soon, actually, and he had slept for more than an hour, until those imbeciles had started discussing what the Dark Lord might be up to right now, and how he could have died.

"We just decided that You-Know-Who died today by trying to catch the snitch with his mouth like you did and swallowing it, choking to death by it." Neville answered Harry's question.

"Didn'know he's playin' Widdish." Harry answered, his words still sluggish while sitting up at the mattress and stretching his limbs.

"Oh, he did." Ronald answered. "And then he heard from your catch in our first year and wanted to try it."

"Couldn' he have heard from my catch in second year?" Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice and Severus couldn't help smirking at the thought that the child seemed to have learned that from him. What, however, worried him was the way Harry again screwed his eyes after rubbing them. "The one with the bludger Dobby had hexed and that broke my arm? It could have hit his head." Well, at least the boy's speech went back to normal. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes narrowed on his son.

"Yeah." Ronald grinned. "And then having Lockhart removing all his bones in his head."

"Lockhart's at St. Mungos." Neville said and for a moment he fixed his narrowed his eyes on that boy. He knew how it was that Neville knew about Lockhart being at St. Mungos, knew that the boy's parents were there, and that he visited them during all of his holidays.

"That's gross." Draco said, shuddering. "Without his bones his head would be a slippery mess."

"Isn' it that already?" Harry asked. "However, he'd be dead by then anyway."

"You think we could carry this out?" Ronald asked, turning to Harry who actually thought about it, but then the boy shook his head.

"No." He said. "First uncle Voldie doesn't play Quidditch, second, if he did, he would surely have cast a shield that would protect him from bludgers, and third, even if he were hit, he might survive it and Neville said Lockhart is at St. Mungos. So – no, we need another plan. Isn't there anything in the history textbooks, Hermione?" Harry then asked. "Anything that could help us with uncle Voldie?"

"If you had paid any attention in history, then you would know the answer yourself, Harry." Hermione said, huffing.

"Impossible." Harry answered. "I just can't stay awake in Binn's class. He's doing nothing but rattling down lists of names and dates, and I never can remember all those names and dates. And just about those goblin wars since first year! And the names of those goblins are all so similar, I always mix them up somehow. So – how could anyone stay awake in his class?"

"Hermione manages." Ronald groaned.

"Hermione would manage staying awake for three weeks if he had a teacher willing doing the same to entertain her with learning." Harry groaned back while running his sleeve over his eyes before squinting them again.

"Come here, Harry." Severus finally called the boy over to his desk where he had better light as they were saving candles by now just as well as wood, potions – and none existent food. They had dreamless sleep left for today only, and he had no more ingredients left to brew another batch. They had nutrient potions for today and tomorrow, perhaps, and then that, too, would be gone. They had no pain reliever left and no calming draught, and the improvised relaxing draught he had brewed was less effective than the original one.

No, their situation didn't look very promising, he had to admit that, if nothing else.

The teen did as he was told and came over to him, his feet dragging over the floor and his shoulders slumped, his arms hanging by his side weakly. Yes, the boy was still tired, despite sleeping for over an hour, as were they all. Sitting straight, standing tall – none of them did so anymore, none of them had the energy left for doing so anymore, and he had to admit that, even he, felt the tiredness, was rather leaning in his chair lazily, than sitting straight as he would normally do.

When Harry had approached him he, however, got off his chair and stood, grabbed the startled teen's chin, and turned his face towards the candle.

"I won't hurt you, Harry." He quietly reassured, like he so often did, upon the startled and frightened look that had appeared in the suddenly large eyes when he had grabbed the boy's chin. "I just want to have a closer look at your eyes. Do they still hurt?"

"They're burning." His son answered.

"They are red." Severus commented after turning the boy's head this way and that way. He knew the reason. They all needed light, and they needed sunlight, not the dim light of one or two candles. They needed sunlight, they needed fresh air, they needed warmth, they needed restful sleep, and most importantly, they needed food. All things they simply didn't have.

"I do not want you rubbing at them too often, Harry." He sighed. "And I want you washing your hands before you go to your eyes with them at all, never mind how much they are burning or itching, and that goes for all of you. For now, I once more will apply some drops of the potion that will calm your eyes, but that won't work if you go to your eyes with dirty hands. I know that it isn't easy right now to keep everything clean, but that is important. We have enough water, and you have to use it and wash your hands on a regular basis, not just in the shower or after using the bathroom. None of us can afford getting any infections while we are as weak as we are."

"Ok." Harry said, as did the other children.

"Alright." Again, Severus sighed, giving his attention back to Harry alone. "During your summer holidays, how often have you been allowed outside, Harry?" He then asked, already knowing the answer, or rather the lack thereof, noticing the boy looking sheepishly at the others without giving an answer before averting his eyes and looking at his shoes, just like he had thought.

"We have already been over this, Harry." He said. "I do know how important privacy is, but here – we are beyond privacy here. We all have to know each other's weaknesses and strengths. We have to know, so that we can understand and act accordingly without hurting each other. We are all dependent on each other, even I. All of you have missed sunlight for two weeks and all of you have been in the dim light of only one or two candles for two weeks now, as we have to save the candles that are available to us. You, however, Harry, you have had less food and less sleep but more physical strain and injury than have had the others, even Theodore, and therefore I ask you again – knowing that none of the others will judge you upon what your relatives did, they are beyond that, all of them – how often have you been allowed outside – in the light of the sun – during your summer holidays?"

"Uhm … well …" The boy made, again averting his eyes, and looking at his trainers that followed the patterns of the stony floor. "Haven't been …" He then murmured so quietly he could barely hear him. "I've done my chores and then I've been in my … well … y'know … my room."

"Yes, I do know." He growled, darkly enough so most of the other teenagers looked at him just as startled as did Harry. Yes, he did know. The boy had been locked in his cupboard whenever he had not been out of it to do the cooking and the cleaning – or to get a beating. And normally a cupboard didn't have a window – in other words, the boy had not had any sunlight during his summer holidays as well, and tiredly he ran his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. It might not seem like a big deal, having not have had much sunlight for a while, even for two months, but in their situation right now everything was a big deal, the smallest things could lessen their chances of survival – especially in Harry's situation.

"You didn' wash your hands before going to y'r eyes with 'em." The boy mumbled, most likely risking his, Severus', wrath to get him off the subject by accusing him of something he had warned them not to do just minutes before.

"No, I have not." He said, not doing the child the favour of getting angry – and therefore off the subject. "But how in Merlin's name am I supposed to keep you alive, while yet your relatives have done such a good job in getting you killed? They have actually reduced your chances for survival many times over. They have managed to do what the Dark Lord has not been able to."

"Only 'cause he hasn't gotten his hands on me yet." Harry answered, still mumbling.

"And I intend keeping it that way." Severus growled. "I cannot do anything else for your eyes than applying the potion to them. That what you, what all of you, need most, I cannot give you."

"'S not your fault." Harry shrugged his shoulders, still not looking at him but his shoes.

He didn't comment on that, however. Instead, he sighed and released the boy's wrists he had grabbed at one point or another during the conversation, without even knowing when exactly he had gripped them.

"While being at your mattresses or sitting at the table, I want you to close your eyes for a few minutes every now and then." He said. "And that goes for all of you just as well. If anyone's eyes start burning or itching, too, I want you to tell me so I can apply the potion to calm your eyes as well."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I simply refuse to believe that they are dead." He said, his dark eyes hard and unbending on the headmaster. "Severus is too intelligent to let them die after just two weeks. He will have them drinking enough water, sleeping a lot and he will have them calm."

"We all refuse that, and we all will continue our attempts in getting into the dungeons, but we had to hold that ceremony. The ministry demanded it. However, we know that at least Harry has died." Albus said, his voice grave. "And our matron said that Mr. Nott, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Davis and Miss Patil might have died meanwhile as well, they, too, had never had a chance of surviving in the first place. Poppy also said, the moment one of them died, the others would lose their hope, they will panic, and it will only lead for their entire situation to worsen."

"And yet – I am sure that Severus will manage one way or another." The stranger growled darkly, reminding the headmaster at his missing teacher. "I know that it is not an easy situation. I know that it is a horrible situation in the first place, but Severus has been in horrible situations before, if you remember correctly," he couldn't help adding accusingly, "and if anyone manages to not only staying alive, but keeping some of the children alive with him, then it will be Severus Snape."

"I don't ask you to lose your faith in Severus, Mr. Hrothgar." Albus said. "I only ask you to take over – either until he is back with us, or … in case that … Merlin! I'm still not even able to say it."

"Neither am I, Professor." Hereweald softly said. "I am not even able to think of it."

There was a pause for a few minutes, both men thinking silently, Albus Dumbledore staring ahead in thought, and Hereweald Hrothgar staring out of the window into the stormy night.

"You have promised them, Mr. Hrothgar." Albus Dumbledore then quietly said.

"Yes, I have." Hereweald answered, his eyes back on the headmaster, piercing the old man with his gaze. "But I have not meant becoming a teacher or a head of house. This is Severus' job, and I refuse to take it from him, as he has been the head of Slytherin with heart and soul. Remember my correct words, professor – 'if you ever need someone willing to continue Severus Snape's work, then you will have to find me'. If those children need help with their Death Eater parents, then they will have to find me. If those children need help with their abusive parents, then they will have to find me, but I refuse to take over Severus' job as a teacher and head of house."

"I have hoped you would, Mr. Hrothgar, but I can understand your refusal." Albus said with a heavy sigh. "Wouldn't it have been for the ministry, then I would not have held this remembrance vigil yesterday. It was good for all those people to say what they have thought, and it was good for all those people to hear what was said – but it was as if giving up on them."

"That it was." Hereweald Hrothgar admitted. "And yet – I refuse to give up on them, I refuse to believe that they are dead."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in "twenty-one days"
Last will and a teddy bear

Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you
also, like in the past, I have installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get points. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …

Please also note that I have installed a new category: Hogwarts, as one reader or another (Jostanos, just for example) prefers to review for Hogwarts itself instead of one of her houses … and who knows, perhaps one day a reader might come from another wizarding school to add their review … thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing …

House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:

Slytherin 79
Gryffindor 38
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 13
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 03