Title:
A few days more

Sequel to:
Twenty-one days

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 26th 2010

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
"A few days more" is the sequel to "Twenty-one days" – read and review this first or you wouldn't understand all that happens in this story.
The fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindor have survived their imprisonment in the potions classroom situated in the dungeons. How will they go on in all-day life after their survival? How will they manage to reintegrate into the castle's routine and their classes? How will they be able to go back to life at all? Watch how those who survived fight for their lives and for their peace.

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 …
But Hereweald Hrothgar does …

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 A few days more

"Never forget old ties, and never forget old friends, they could be very important one day. However, these students in Slytherin might have told their parents, and even though most Slytherin parents have turned their backs on Lucius and the remaining Death Eaters, there are still a few who're loyal to the Dark Lord, never mind his lost power."
"If so many Slytherin parents have turned their backs on uncle Voldie, does that mean that he'll have less power should he come back?" Harry asked and he frowned at the boy.
"Should he come back, then he will have less power due to times having changed while he had been powerless – but that doesn't mean that he will have less power generally." He said, sighing. He wouldn't lie to the boy, even though he might scare him. "Should the Dark Lord come back, then he will be dangerous, and he will be powerful – but with less supporters his powers might be less dangerous than they'd been last time. Each good witch or wizard on the light will be important to throw the Dark Lord back and to keep him from gaining more power even."
"Then it's a good thing that you've scared him with the animals that could be aurors?" Harry asked, softly.
"Perhaps." He answered.
Perhaps it was a good thing, because if all the Death Eaters were scared, then they would keep low. Perhaps they would meet a lot of dead animal in future. He didn't know. It had been the spur of the moment that he'd said these words towards Malfoy. They would see what the future would bring – he didn't know.

A few days more
Chapter twenty-six
Monsters

"Very well, Mr. Snape." Harvest said and he leaned back in his armchair. There had been a moment when he had feared that not Elsa Harvest would go with them through the official adoption but someone else, and even though the ministry wouldn't be able doing anything against it, seeing that they'd done this with a potion – they still could make it difficult for Harry, and the boy had enough troubles already, without the ministry behaving like idiots. "I know that Professor Snape has already adopted you – and that you already bear his name. Anyway, I have to ask a few questions. But don't worry, it's a standard questioning only."

"'K." The boy said, still as nervous as he had been since he'd woken early this morning, unable to fall asleep again and getting on his nerves instead.

"And you are sure that you wish for Professor Snape's presence while I question you?" Harvest asked and immediately the boy nodded his head so forcefully, he was sure he'd have a headache later on.

Well, normally the children would get questioned alone, without the future parent so that Harvest knew the child's opinion, without any influence from the adult, but Harry had nearly had a panic attack at alone the suggestion, had taken his hand and had refused to release him again. Even now he was still clinging to his hand like a leech, causing Elsa to smile, and he cast one of his darkest looks possible at the idiot woman, the only thing he could do right now, seeing that the boy wouldn't release his hand anytime soon.

"Now, Mr. Snape, Professor Snape is not the nicest teacher. You are aware of that, aren't you?" Harvest asked and he huffed. Let it be this woman to play his temper down. "He can have quite a temper."

"Sure, Ma'am." The boy said, large eyes on him and Harvest. "But ... but he's great at that, because he's always honest. He's never telling lies, he's always saying what he thinks, he's never playing the nice guy like others."

"That is true, Mr. Snape." Harvest admitted, leaning back in her seat, and he scowled. "But he's known to be unfair, too." Yes, that was true!

"That's not true." Harry said and now he scowled at the idiot boy. How dare he to destroy his reputation! "He's always giving detention to his own students, too, not only to the other houses! And he's giving us detention, too, if we do something stupid that could cost our lives."

"The students say that Professor Snape is mean." Harvest said, smirking at him and he smirked back – finally the woman had made a compliment.

"Isn't." He boy said and his smirk changed into a dark scowl at the bloody brat now. "He's just displaying a mask, but he isn't mean! Severus just isn't making a fuss 'bout things!"

"But people dislike your Professor, Mr. Snape." Harvest said, and again he relaxed back into his seat.

"Know." Harry said, his voice so sad that he looked down at the idiot child for a moment. "But that's what's unfair, because they don't know him. They just make up their mind because of prejudices, because Severus has come from Slytherin. But he isn't mean, he's nice and caring and great and he ... he's ... he ..."

"One more word to destroy my reputation, young man, and I'll cut you into small pieces for my next potion – which requires children parts anyway!" He growled darkly while clapping his hand over the boy's mouth, causing Harvest and Harry at the same time to laugh, and he took a deep breath. The boy had been close to panicking.

"But ... but ..."

"There are no 'buts' Mr. Snape." He said, making it unmistakably clear that the boy was his, making it clear that he wouldn't allow anyone to take him away and surely not the ministry.

"Is!" The boy insisted and he took a deep breath. "Madam Harvest needs to know! Or she'll think bad of you, too, and then ... it's ... they wouldn't allow ... it's not fair ... and ..."

"Stop right now!" He growled, turning in his seat and taking the chair the boy was sitting at, turning it so that the child was sitting directly before him, looking up at him with his damn large green eyes. "Madam Harvest does know me quite well, Harry. We have been working together to get children out of their abusive families for years now, and she does know me. There is no need for you to make anything seen. Just answer her questions, that will do, foolish child."

"'K." The boy said and he took a deep breath before he turned his son's chair so that it would face the desk again, scowling at the smile Harvest regarded him with. Idiot woman! Making more out of it than was there! Really!

"Just relax, Mr. Snape." Harvest smiled, waving her wand and a glass of water appeared in front of Harry, nudging his forehead. "Maybe you would like something to drink? Now, why would you like Professor Snape adopting you?" Harvest asked and he could feel the boy's hand increasing the grip he had on his hand – again.

"Uhm ..." Harry then answered and he knew, the conversation wouldn't go any easier than it had been so far, neither for him, nor for Harvest, and surely not for the child. "Well ... it's ... Severus offered and ... and I didn't have someone else who really wanted me ... and ... and ... well ..."

"How is it that you didn't have someone who wanted you, Mr. Snape?" Harvest asked and he narrowed his eyes at the bloody woman. They had agreed that they wouldn't mention the Dursleys or Harry's past, not during the official ministry adoption. They would have to do just that, he knew – when it came to the Dursleys' trial, but the adoption should stay out of monsters.

There were enough monsters in the idiot child's life already without them having to claim residence at the official ministry adoption, too.

But well, he had always trusted Harvest when it came to any of his Slytherin children and their future, he should trust her now, too.

"Well ... it's just ... you see ... the Dursleys don't want me ..." The boy answered, softly, averting his eyes. "They never did. They ... they just had to take me ... but Severus wanted me, and he's the only one! And I want him, too!"

"What about your godfather?" Harvest asked and he could feel the boy beside him going rigid. "He has asked to adopt you, now that his case is re-opened."

Well, it was the – most wrong or less correct question or statement Harvest could have gotten out of that damn, blasted mouth of hers!

Alright, that was unfair because normally Harvest was one of the most reasonable women one could be thinking of, especially considering that she was working for the ministry, and she couldn't know about Black's idiotic behaviour, but this particular – well, he had a boy clinging to his hand so tightly, it nearly hurt and he wondered where Harry was taking his strength from.

"Calm down, child." He said, knowing that he needed the magic word 'child' right now. "Your godfather won't have a chance of getting his -" closing his eyes he took a deep breath to prevent saying something stupid he'd rue later on "– hands on you if you don't wish living with him. Calm down, Harry ... would you please calm down, you foolish child! Take slower breathes ... slower ... right now!"

Well – it didn't work this time.

Normally he could count on his cold and reserved ways of handling situations like this one – but well, not this time. Bloody idiot boy, the child was just too close to him, or he was too close to the child, never mind which way round, it had the same meaning.

"Harry!" He said, trying to be more – something. "Black is not here, and he won't take you away either, never mind what. Perhaps we should inform Madam Harvest about your godfather's behaviour? Harry? Alright – well, Madam Harvest, Mr. Black threatened more than once so far to take Harry away against his wishes. He has even gone as far as attacking me, in front of Harry, even, after he has tried to abduct the child. The boy is scared of him. He fears that Black might take him away and he would lose me because he knows that in this case, Black wouldn't allow Harry to see me ever again."

"I see." Harvest said, her face dark while taking notes – and knowing that women, well, Black wouldn't be at the castle for long now. "Black has asked for time with Mr. Potter. When will you meet next?"

"Saturday for lunch." He answered. "In our quarters and in my presence. Professor Dumbledore knows of the troubles around Black, and he has agreed, and then – ordered – I allow Black partaking in a house lunch, when I asked for my presence at all meetings between him and the boy. Not to mention that I've told him – this will be his last chance. Should he behave like he has for the past weeks, then I won't allow him near my son ever again, godfather or not."

"I think, I need a word with Mr. Black." Harvest said. "Don't worry, Mr. Snape. You are fourteen years old, and you are old enough to decide where you wish to live. And if it is Professor Snape, then be it. I should ask a few more questions, but I think I have heard – and seen – enough."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It hadn't been any trouble getting the boy home. Harvest had dismissed them, and he had just gotten them home via her floo, knowing that apparition and the long walk from the gates and over Hogwarts grounds to their quarters would be out of question at that moment. Well, and right now – the boy was ... like Diagon, pacing the room, sitting down at the sofa, just to pace the room again a moment later.

He had tried to distract the boy with a game of cards – without success. He'd also tried to keep the boy busy with having him writing a list about the potions ingredients they needed for the upcoming week – without success either and would he count on the list the boy had written – or had tried to write – then they would go without potions next week.

Narrowing his eyes he wondered if perhaps that had been Harry's intentions, but then he shook his head. It was long past, since Harry would be trying to get out of potions and even if, then it would not be without a reason. He had made this particular class a living hell for the child, and it would be only fair if the boy now tried to get out of it. But he didn't, on the contrary. The child was even trying to make it alright, like he most likely had done all the time, all the years before, tried to make everything right and good. The bloody child was just too nervous and upset to get that list done correctly, that was all, even though he didn't know why. Harvest had waved her wand and the name 'Harry Potter' on the papers in front of her had changed to 'Harry Snape'. Harry was his, officially and unmistakably, with eye, hair and name, even in front of the Ministry now.

For a moment he took a deep breath at the thought – Harry was his son!

"Will you stop that pacing if I provide you with a calming draught, Harry?" He asked, getting up from his desk and stepping towards his prowling son, stopping him by placing his hand on the child's shoulder.

"Huh?" Came the boy's question, Harry looking up at him, startled, only now realizing that he was in the room too – and others. "Uhm – I haven't been pacing?"

"And what would you call this walking to and fro otherwise than pacing?" He asked, one eyebrow lifted at the brat. "You are behaving worse than Diagon. One upset predator is enough, I don't need a prowling lion, too."

"Uhm ... sorry ..."

"Just sit yourself down, Harry." He growled, gently pushing the boy down onto the sofa. He'd get the boy to bed early tonight, and he'd simply hope that he'd be better tomorrow, after a good night's sleep.

"There are two horses sitting in the dungeons, cutting oil." Draco said while sitting down on the sofa beside Harry, or rather – throwing himself down beside Harry, lazily and undignified.

"How can a horse cut oil?" Theodore asked, sitting down – a bit more properly – at Harry's other side.

"Never mind how a horse can cut oil." Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Oil cannot be cut at all."

"Never mind that." Draco sighed, shaking his head. "Just listen, will you? Now, there are two horses sitting in the dungeons and cutting oil anyway, never mind if they can or can not. Well, then a quill and a wand enter through the door, they go up the wall above the door, along the ceiling all the way through the room, they go down the other wall and leave the dungeon through the other door. 'Have you seen that?' One horse asks the other horse, entirely shocked and outraged, but the other horse just answers calmly. 'Yes, they're never greeting.'"

"I have known that my son has somehow lost his mind in our old potions classroom." He said, sarcastically. "Now I fear that my godson has lost it, too."

But well, they were laughing, again a stupid joke had saved the day, had gotten them out of their depression or nervousness – or rather Harry in this case – just like so often before, just like the day before.

Flashback

"It is one thing to gain someone's trust who doesn't know you." He said, leaning back and stretching his legs. "But it is an entirely different – and much harder – thing to regain trust you have lost because of a stupid mistake. You have not only just disappointed them, Ronald, you have hurt your friend, and badly so. Twice even. You first attacked him, and then you had his potion exploded, what had caused severe damage to his health, and in a dire situation to begin with, too. It isn't a simple schoolboy joke you have done. You could easily have killed Harry, and they know it. I think, the few weeks that had passed since then are not a long time, considering the seriousness of the situation."

"Oh ... yes, sure." The boy said, but he could hear the disappointment in his voice anyway. But well, he had never been a teacher who'd made things easy for his students, at least not if these students had caused their misery themselves. Ronald would learn not only patience but the seriousness of the situation, too, he would learn to see what he had done realistically, and he would learn to understand other people's reactions and fears. He would grow with it, and in a few years when all of this was over – or maybe not over – he would have become a responsible young man. At least this was what he hoped would happen.

Concerning the making it easy part – his son was thinking differently, as it seemed because Harry took a deep breath, leaning against him as if looking for strength and then started – well, how could it be different? With one of his jokes.

"Know how you can shoot a green stone eater?" The boy asked.

"I don't know, maybe with a green stone-eater-gun?" Ronald asked, actually sounding happy at the joke his former friend was making.

"C'mon! Of course not!" Harry rolled his eyes and he smirked. "You anger him until he's red, then you choke him until he's blue, and then you shoot him with a blue stone-eater-gun."

"And how do you shoot a yellow stone eater?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

"That's easy dad." The boy smiled back with large eyes. "You make him feeling ill until he's green, then you anger him until he's red, then you choke him until he's blue, and then you shoot him with a blue stone-eater-gun."

"Of course you'd do that." He sighed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to best his son a second time when it came to these damn silly jokes.

"But how do you shoot a purple stone eater?" The boy asked him and he lifted his eyebrow.

"You paint him yellow, then you make him feeling ill until he's green, you anger him until he's red and then you choke him until he's blue – and after that you finally can shoot him with a blue stone-eater-gun?" He asked, his eyebrow lifted.

"There's no such things like purple stone eaters, dad!" The boy laughed helplessly, and he shook his head. Of course, there wouldn't be a purple stone eater!

Well, he knew that of course he would need to give Ronald Weasley a chance or he wouldn't be able to grow into a responsible young man one day. He would need to speak to him, he would need to teach him, and he would need to show him his ways and paths. And even then there was no guarantee – but well, he could hope, and this wouldn't be the first dire situation he'd had with a student of his house.

He would manage, like he always managed.

And Ronald Weasley too would manage, like so many others before him had managed.

End flashback

It was a moment later that there was a wild roar accompanied by a screeching sound and looking over he could see – Diagon, sitting above a struggling – Rita Skeeter on the floor.

"Now, what have we here!" He growled darkly, drawing his wand. "I think we have solved the riddle about the annoying bug that has our wolf getting up the walls. Miss Skeeter."

"What the ... get this damn animal off me, Snape!" Skeeter screeched hysterically, trying to get Diagon off her chest while Diagon herself had no intentions of obeying, was rather annoyed at the little fact that she had lost her prey and tried to bit Skeeter's fingers off, instead, her nose or her ears, whatever Diagon could reach.

"And why should I do that, Miss Skeeter?" He asked, approaching woman and animal. "It is such a nice view. Did you know that a desert night wolf won't abandon its prey, never mind what?"

"What do you want, Snape?" Skeeter screeched, nearly sobbed, desperately.

"Oh, nothing." Snape smirked. "At least not much. I could need some bugs for my potions, but regrettably you're in your human form at the present time, what a shame. However –" He said, crouching down beside the woman who was desperately trying to keep Diagon from gnawing at her lower arms and wrists or fingers. "I want an unbreakable vow of you." He then said, smirking evilly. "That you will use your spying ability for good things only, that you won't spy on the people of the light anymore, and that you won't write any story about minors, students, my person or persons who are close to me anymore ... ever."

"I swear!" Skeeter screeched. "I swear! Now get that thing off me!"

"Not so fast, Miss Skeeter." He growled. "Take out your wand, Victor." He then added. The boy was of age and therefore he could partake in this ceremony, the vow would be valid. "And now you just point your wand at our hands." He said when he had taken Skeeter's hand.

"I know." The boy softly said in a tone of voice that made him looking over, looking into a pale face and he knew – ne needed to find out what unbreakable vow Karkaroff had made the boy swearing.

"We will talk about that later, Victor." He said before he turned back to the woman. "Will you, Rita Skeeter, use your spying abilities for spying on the Dark Lord and his death eaters only, from now on and forever, while keeping from spying on good and righteous people?" He then asked.

"I will!" The woman quickly answered.

"Will you keep from writing about minors, students, my person, family or other people who are close to me or one of my students, at all, from now on and forever?"

"Yes! Yes! I will!" The woman screeched while Diagon had now started nibbling at her nose again.

"And will you do at least one good deed every day while not doing any harm anymore, from now on and forever?" He then asked.

"I will! I will! I swear! Just get this thing off me!"

He waited for a moment until the soft lines that had wound themselves around his and Skeeter's hand had vanished, before he released Skeeter's hand and then got up from his crouching position.

"Diagon." He called and – much to his own surprise – immediately the animal obeyed and got off Skeeter's chest where he had pinned her to the floor, even though the large wolf didn't look too happy about it, eyeing Skeeter with eyes that clearly asked – may I have her back after you're finished with her?

"I ... I ..." Skeeter stammered, looking at him angrily.

"You may go to Professor Dumbledore." He said, calmly. "But not only can't he do anything against it, it's too late for that, but also – I am sure that he will be very pleased with the situation. After all, I have neither killed you, nor have I used you in a potion, and I haven't even cursed you with one of my nastier spells. The only thing I have done was – demanding an unbreakable vow from you, which you have given freely." He smirked, extending his hand towards the entrance door, making it clear that he wished her off their quarters.

"Very well – Victor, my office." He then said, when Skeeter had left and their door was closed, ignoring the startled look on the boy's face.

He knew that Victor, most likely, wasn't used to a private talk with his teacher that wanted to help, just like Harry hadn't been used to that in the beginning, and knowing Karkaroff, it wasn't so startling that the boy didn't really trust him. But like Harry, Victor would learn. The boy would learn to trust him, he would learn to listen to him, and he would learn to talk to him if he was in trouble.

And a barely seventeen year old student who already knew how to do an unbreakable vow, well, that spoke very much of trouble.

Sure – had Harry just a few months ago stood before him, blankly, not knowing how to do an unbreakable vow, then surely he would have sneered down at the child, accusing him of stupidity and asking him what kind of wizard he was if he didn't even know how to do an unbreakable vow, but the truth was – it would have been unfair, as unfair as he always had been towards the child, because an unbreakable vow was one of the things no child should be knowing of.

And Victor might be seventeen, might be of age in the wizarding world, but he was still a child. Because with seventeen years of age, people were still too young to have control over their life, to have control over their emotions, over their decisions, over what was to come. Life was too difficult to consider a seventeen year old an adult.

"Sit down." He said, pointing at the chair in front of his desk while he sat down himself. Calmly he watched his newest student for a few moments, the boy playing with the hem of his shirt nervously, before he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Which unbreakable vow did Karkaroff demand of you?" He then asked, anything than happy at the realization that he had been correct when the boy averted his eyes, guiltily. He hated being correct when it came to his student and the misuse or abuse of them – contraire to what other people thought – but the bad thing was, he was correct nearly always.

"The first vow was, he made me swearing that I used any means in the competition, even dark curses, if it were necessary." The boy said taking a deep breath but still averting his eyes.

"And the second vow?" He asked, taking a deep breath himself and getting off his chair, pacing his office.

He knew that the unbreakable vow was just that – unbreakable. The boy would have to do as he had sworn, he would have to kill if necessary, never mind what and his only chance of preventing it was to keep the boy from partaking – what was impossible, or he would have taken Harry off the competition before anything else. In other words – the competition had to be cancelled, what wasn't possible either as the ministry wouldn't allow that, unbreakable vow or not.

"It was after Harry was chosen." Victor answered and he held his breath for a moment. If this vow included his son, then that couldn't bode well. "I had to swear that I would not kill him, never mind if I lost the competition. Professor Karkaroff said that there were other forces at work and that I had to leave him alive. I just had to take him to Professor Karkaroff during the last task."

The boy had to ...

This damn bloody idiot boy had to do what?

For a moment his mind tried to wrap itself around this new information, trying to understand its meaning, trying to understand ...

"And you didn't deem it important to inform me about that little thing, Mr. Krum, did you?" He then asked, not sure if he should be angry or if he should be glad that at least Harry wasn't on the list of the dead – well, at least not from the beginning on but he knew, as soon as Karkaroff had his hands on the boy he – "You ask for a place in my house but you don't think it necessary to inform me about my son being involved in Karkaroff's plans? About you having sworn an unbreakable vow concerning my son? You didn't even think it necessary to inform me about the homicide you are bound to fulfil?"

"Because I won't do it!" The boy said, angrily, for the first time looking up at him with blazing eyes. "I have sworn it, yes, Karkaroff made me, but at the same time, during the vow-making, I have also sworn to myself that I won't do it!"

"You idiot, idiot boy! You have actually made two unbreakable vows at the same time, which contradict each other? And how, Mr. Krum, do you intend on going against an unbreakable vow?" He asked, his voice a cold drawl. "Because an unbreakable vow is just that, unbreakable, Mr. Krum. You won't be able going against it."

"That is not entirely correct, Professor." The boy said, calmer – and not looking so angry anymore, but rather dejected.

"How so?" He snapped at the idiot child – and nothing else than a child he was, seventeen years or not. "How do you think you can go against magic as old and as strong as the unbreakable vow? Explain!"

"I only can fulfil this vow if I am alive." The boy softly said, and he gritted his teeth while approaching his desk, leaning with both his hands at the desktop.

"Are you speaking of suicide, Mr. Krum?" He slowly asked, softly, his voice nearly a whisper – a threatening whisper. "Are you actually speaking of killing yourself before the third task starts, Mr. Krum?"

"That's the only way to forgo the unbreakable vow." The idiot boy said, looking up at him, not understanding his anger.

"That – is no – option – Mr. Krum!" He hissed at the idiot boy angrily. "That is –"

"There's no other way!" Victor shot back, getting off his chair to face him.

"Sit down, Mr. Krum, this instance!" He ordered. "You are correct, because no, there is no other way – and anyway that is no option! It is out of question! It is beyond any reasonable discussion, and you won't dare such a stupid thing ... or I will make sure that you are haunted in whatever afterlife you might end up, that is what I swear."

"With all due respect, Professor, but I cannot abandon my plan without endangering Harry, which I won't risk." The boy said and he took a deep breath. "You have freed me from Professor Karkaroff, even though momentarily only, but he would have killed me anyway as soon as I have done what he demanded. I knew from the beginning that I am dead, never mind the outcome of the competition. I cannot, in good conscience, stay alive with the knowledge about what I am forced to do. I like Harry, and I do not want to harm him – or the others. But I have to if I am still alive when the thrid task starts."

"We will find a way, Mr. Krum, but suicide will be no option and believe me, I won't step back from even using the imperious to keep you from it if I have to." He growled. "Did I make myself absolutely clear, Mr. Krum?" He asked.

"You don't unders– ..." The boy started and he leaned closer.

"Yes, sir – is the only acceptable answer right now, Mr. Krum." He hissed angrily.

"But ..."

"Yes ... sir ..." Snape hissed, his dark eyes blazing. "Right ... now!"

"Yes, sir." The boy said after taking a deep breath. "But you don't ..."

"There are no buts, Mr. Krum. Your wand!" He hissed, straightening and standing proud and tall in front of the boy, pointing his own wand, and casting a spell at the idiot child's wand. "I do understand very well, Mr. Krum, but like I said – we will find a way, and until then I expect you at my office after dinner each evening for the reminder of your stay here, to discuss any possibilities, and to assess your state of mind. Added to that, seeing that I cannot trust you to act reasonably at the present time, I will cast an alarm at you that will inform me of any situation that might kost your life. To make it clear, Mr. Krum – do know, that I will know whenever you touch any kind of potion, any kind of knife or other object that could be used for cutting or piercing, and I will know whenever you touch any kind of rope or anything at all that could be used for hanging. Added to that, I have just cast a spell at your wand that will keep you from using it against your own person in any way possible. You are dismissed." He then said, waving his wand to cast said alarm.

"But Professor ..."

"You are dismissed, boy!" He growled. He needed not only a moment for himself, but he also needed the boy to take a moment in which he could get clear with his new situation.

Merlin!

How could that have happened!

How could ... he needed to talk to Albus about that, because if anyone knew a way out of it, then it was Albus. Damn the idiot Karkaroff, the cowardice traitor! Not that it was enough, having to deal with Black, having to deal with Skeeter, and having to deal with the Dark Lord the moment he would come back – and he knew that he would come back, he could feel the dark mark on his arm moving and crawling weakly every now and then, not to mention having to deal with Malfoy, other Death Eaters, Molly, Chandler and other idiots – and of course his children, some of which were still ill enough so that he couldn't help worrying, his son included – and now he had to worry about one of his children being forced to do a crime against another of his children, and again, his son included.

Running his hand over his face he tried to think about the next steps he needed to take, knowing that not only the other teachers and Maxime had to be informed, but that a healer had to be called, too. For a moment he thought about an auror, but he discarded that thought rather soon.

Would they call over an auror from the ministry, then Victor would end up at Azkaban, never mind his being at fault or not and he wouldn't allow that. No – they rather needed someone from the order. Sturgis, Kingsley or Arthur for example, all three were gifted wizards who could keep the children safe if necessary.

They also needed to plan through the tasks anew and to set as much safety regulations as possible and Karkaroff needed to be arrested.

Damn! Preferably the entire tournament needed to be cancelled – but he knew that such a thing wouldn't happen, because the Britain wizarding ministry was trying to re-gain as much power, as much prestige, fame and glory as was possible. Fudge hadn't been too successful a minister of magic for Britain as had others been in the past. He was a coward and an idiot, depending on Albus and Lucius, being a play-ball between the two and the other wizarding nations knew that very well.

It was about power and politics and that had more value to Fudge than the life of a child.

Pinching the bridge of his nose he took a deep breath to calm his nerves, to get himself under as much control as he always displayed so that he could face the children without scaring them, and especially his son who would notice something before anyone else would, and who would be startled and scared beyond what he liked, even if he didn't tell him about the conversation he'd just had.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Well, apparently it hadn't been necessary to tell the boy anything about the recent troubles anyway, because it was just a few hours later, in the middle of the night, that he found his son sitting on the floor in the parlor, in front of the fire, staring into the dancing flames.

He watched the boy for a few moments, the much too small and thin frame, illuminated by the fire. Light and shadow were playing hide and seek on the dark green pyjama the boy was wearing, on the dark hair, and on the pale face, light and shadow hunting each other in the same rhythm the flames were dancing in the grate, giving the boy a ghostly appearance.

The brat was fourteen, but he looked like one of the firsties. Admittedly, he had gained a bit of weight, wasn't a clear skeleton anymore, but still he was far from having a healthy body structure to begin with and he knew – the teen wasn't out of the woods yet. Too long had he been neglected, starved and abused by his aunt and uncle before the accident had happened at the beginning of the school year and there were things not even magic could solve.

The other children had nearly gained their previous weight already, most of them at least. Draco and Theodore were still too thin for his liking, as were Ginevra, Emma, and Adrian, but he was working on that and they would manage, even Draco, Theodore and Harry. With each day that passed they had a better chance to survive and to get – at least somewhat, healthy.

"What's wrong, Harry?" He softly asked, sitting down beside the boy on the floor, in front of the fire. "Why are you not in bed?"

It wasn't the first time that he found the boy awake in the middle of the night, that was something that happened rather often, too often for his liking.

"Dunno." Said boy answered, shrugging his shoulders after giving away a sigh and he knew – there was more than just a sleepless night because of no special reason.

"Son." He said, just to remind the boy that – he was his son, and he Severus, he was the boy's father, and he expected his son to tell the truth, never mind what the truth was – not to mention that the child had the right to tell someone of his troubles, never mind what exactly was troubling him in the first place.

"It's just – I've been dreaming." The teen sighed a second time, his eyes not leaving the fire. "You know, of the cupboard."

Yes, he knew.

There were no simple monsters in the boy's cupboards from his dreams.

There were no murderers, no reapers, no four– or eight-legged things, and no ghosts in the cupboard, no anything scary that could linger there to scare children in the middle of the night. No – the only monster the child had in his cupboard, was he himself. Dreams of himself being locked up in a cupboard, dreams of laying in a cupboard, hungry and in pain, because he'd been beaten up by the family he was living with, hungry and not understanding why his family kept him there, not understanding why his family kept food from him while he was hungry. But they were no dreams, because these things had really happened.

Harry's monsters were so real like any other child's childhood memories were.

Flashback

Of course the castle had done these rooms recently, just for them.

The lower part of the dungeons did already exist for only Merlin knew how many centuries, but the arrangement of these rooms, so that they would form a very large flat for all of them, for meanwhile more than twenty children – the castle had done it. Minerva had helped in providing dinnerware, cutlery, and bowls, while Albus had taken the privilege to care for the furniture in Harry's room himself, and he would get the children's private things down here.

"Albus!" He sighed upon entering Harry's room to place the boy's trunk at the end of the bed. "The castle had put shelves into this particular room with a reason, and as much as I know that you meant well, I need this cupboard being replaced by the original shelves again." He said to the older wizard, even though he could see that the headmaster had done this cupboard with Harry in his mind. The headmaster had respected the colors the castle had chosen for the other furniture, the cupboard was made of warm brown wood with two thin lines near the top, one dark blue, and the other copper coloured, and with the children's names written on the doors with the same dark blue, Harry and Adrian.

"Why, Severus?" The older man asked. "You can't expect Harry to keep all his clothes on a shelf. He needs a cupboard which he can close, and he needs ..."

"He does not need a cupboard that will remind him of his relatives and where they have kept him." He growled. "I need the boy sleeping and resting at night, not having nightmares because of that bloody cupboard. He will be happier with shelves on the walls than with a cupboard in his room – and Adrian will understand, and he will be happy with a shelf, too, if it means to ease Harry's mind."

"Oh." Albus said, looking at him, nearly shocked. Idiot man! Idiot old man! Like always he had not thought of the deeper hurts of the children at his school, only seeing the faces, the hair, the eyes and the body – not their hearts, their hurts and their fears, like always! Only seeing the good in everyone, in everything, but not the dark sides of the coin.

It was the same as it was with – him, living down here together with the children.

It was the first time in Hogwarts' history that a teacher was living in the same quarters as did the children.

Normally the children had their own common room with a bathroom and adjoining dormitories, while their head of house had – just like all the other teachers at Hogwarts – their private quarters nearby, at least in the same part of the castle. His former quarters had been in the dungeons like the Slytherin common room and Minerva's private quarters were in the same tower where the Gryffindors had their common room.

But for the first time in history, the castle had provided quarters for students and teacher at the same place, in the same quarters – but not Minerva had taken offence at that, like he had thought she would – no, it had been Albus.

"Of course I'll arrange shelves, Severus, I'm sorry." Albus said and he scowled at the headmaster.

"I don't need an apology, old man – I need you to think!" He huffed before turning and leaving the room.

End flashback

Ignoring the protest his bones and muscles started screaming at him, he got off the floor and then reached out his hand to pull the boy from the floor too, and like he had known – Harry of course obeyed, took his hand and allowed him to get off the floor too, even though he might have liked to sit there for a while longer, watching the dancing flames, enjoying their warmth and their soft light.

He also ignored the sigh the boy gave away when he led him back to his room, the teen most likely knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again anytime soon, most likely for the remainder of the night, dreaming of his own monsters in the cupboard he didn't have in his room. He had made sure that there was no cupboard in Harry's room, but he couldn't take the cupboards from his son's mind and heart.

They would linger there forever.

Gently he accompanied his son into his room and led him to the large bed "I think, perhaps for tonight, you might take a dreamless sleep potion." He said while gently pushing the boy down on the bed.

"I could? But you said ..." The boy asked, looking at him as if he had grown Gryffindor-red hair suddenly.

"Yes, I know what I have said, and it still stands. The dreamless sleep potion won't help you in the long run – you will have to deal with your monsters, but you might take one, once in a while." He said while covering the boy with the blanket and then pulling up the quilt.

It was cold enough meanwhile, even though it was in the middle of October only, so that the boy needed a second blanket and so he had provided him with a thin, knitted coverlet beneath his thick and warm quilt.

"Thanks dad." The child smiled up at him, sighing tiredly.

"You are very welcomed." He huffed, ruffling the boy's unruly hair. "And do I thank God every day, that he has led the two of us together, providing you with a father – even though it is a grumpy old man – and providing me with a son."

"Even though it's a foolish child that causes you a headache." The boy said.

"Even though it's a foolish child that causes me a headache." He agreed, causing the boy to smile, and he sat down into the armchair beside the boy's bed, satisfied when the boy turned on his side to watch him while laying more comfortably and he leaned back in his armchair.

"Next week, when Adam visit's again, we'll tell him about your monsters, perhaps he can help you with that – after all, he has helped me with my monsters many years ago. And while we're at it, I will ask him if he's ready to becoming your godfather. You need a godfather, one you can trust, and one I can trust, and as much as Adam grates on my nerves, I do trust him with my life – and with yours."

Well, he wasn't really sure if Harry had heard his last sentences – the boy was already sleeping, and he took a deep breath. But he'd have a word with Adam about that – and surely not the first word, seeing that the healer was the only person whom he talked about such things from time to time. After all, that bloody man was actively living in a wizarding community that did have a church.

Getting off the armchair he made sure that the boy was warm and that the small light on Harry's nightstand wouldn't turn off during the night. Warmth and light were some of the things the boy had missed for years, beside of food, sleep and rest – and it was one of the few things he could provide him with, even though there were enough things he wouldn't be able to give – like love, for example, and like a life with God, because he didn't have such himself in the first place, because the Lord would never accept him, would never forgive him – no, Adam would have to provide for that.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in A few days more
about learning and about realizing

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, of course I have re-installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get a point. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …

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

Slytherin 98
Gryffindor 54
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 15
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01