4

Chapter Four: Aurors.

Severus sat quietly most of the night at the dinner table in the Great Hall. He was still very tired from the attack, and he didn't feel much like eating—even if he knew he should. He'd still have to spend another night in the hospital wing, even if he wanted to go back to his personal quarters in the dungeon.

Beside him, Minerva McGonagall was chatting quite happily to Hagrid about what the next year would bring for the both of them. New witches and wizards to sort. The Sorting Ceremony was always quite an exciting thing at Hogwarts. Of course, as a Head of House, Severus knew all about having to welcome new students into the houses and the school.

Although he wasn't too fussy on children, he was still a good teacher, and still a good Head of House. He always told the members of Slytherin that if they did need him for anything, he would be more than welcome to help them. Maybe not in the nicest of ways—due to his usually snarky behaviour—but nonetheless, he was still there for them. Plus, he favoured his Snakes over the other houses. Anything to let them win the House Cup at the end of the year. Not to mention Slytherins were no way near as airheaded as other houses, like Gryffindor. Sarcastic, maybe, but at least they didn't flaunt around like they owned the place.

Looking down the half empty hallway, he caught sight of Potter and his friends. He hadn't completely disregarded what had happened between the two of them before coming here. He'd thought nothing of it at the time, though curious and surprised, but now looking at the side of the boy's face, he wondered what had happened.

He was a skilled wizard, and a powerful one. He gathered that his own anger, along with Potter's, had caused a spark in their magic. A spark that was a negative one, not a positive one. Maybe even a spark to let one another know that they were both angry and hot-headed. Although Snape was much more controlling when it came to his emotions and his remarks, Harry was not. He was a rather heated individual, and he'd felt that go through his body when he'd touched the young man on the arm.

Moving his hand beneath his chin, he watched Potter carefully. Overly large clothes, messy hair. He was hardly ever presentable. Not like his mother had been. Lily had always kept herself very presentable, very clean… Why he was thinking of this, he did not know. But the dream he had had, or the presence of her in his mind… it was rather powerful.

She had told him that Harry needed someone to look out for him. Now that the Dark Lord was out of the picture, he hardly thought Potter would be needing looking after. He had his group of friends, not to mention the Weasley girl who clung off him all the time like a wet cloth. Not that he cared.

He was surprised when those green eyes gave him a quick glance, and immediately, all he could think was that he was the discussion at the table right now. He was sure it was nothing pleasant. Potter and his gang were never pleasant. Well, Granger was an exception. He may not have shown it, but he did respect her intelligence at her age. It reminded him of himself at such an age. Although she did like to show she was a know-it-all. Surely Potter had enough protection in that group. He could hardly see why Lily thought he would be that protection for her son.

He mentally shook his head, looking grimly at his plate. There was nothing out of that dream. It's all it had been. A dream! Nothing more, nothing less. Just a hope that he could see her, touch her, feel her soft skin against his. And that soft kiss, he would never forget.

Sitting back in his seat, he was silent most of the night, having put his small pin of a medal into his pants pocket. A medal of any kind he was not expecting. Nor the actual applause. He didn't exactly take pride in his actions. He may have risked his life to keep Lily's son safe, but he hardly did anything for the other students.

His role as Headmaster was nothing to be taken lightly. He'd still allowed students to be tortured, even if it would give him away if he said for it to stop. He was just thankful he didn't have to stand up front or anything.

Getting rather lethargic, he leant his cheek against his knuckles, which must have caught the attention of McGonagall beside him, asking if he was alright. He just grunted, feeling his eyelids getting rather heavy.

Standing, McGonagall gently put her hand onto his shoulder. "I will take you back to the hospital wing, Severus. I think you've been out of bed for long enough. You still need more replenishing potion," she informed.

Helping the man up, she led him down to the hospital wing. Their walk was rather quiet, but she didn't urge Severus to talk. He was so sluggish that he leant on her most of the way down. Probably something he wasn't comfortable doing, especially knowing that Professor Snape wasn't one to like any show of weakness in himself.

As they reached the wing, she helped Severus sit down on the bed, and she gathered Poppy from her office room. They were both much older than Severus, and they'd had their fair share of discussions about the man from when he was a boy to now. After all, she was the one who sorted him into Slytherin with the Sorting Hat. They'd seen him grow up here.

Madam Pomfrey went to her usual duties, checking on her patient. "Let me check your dressing," she said, pushing down the collar on Snape's neck. Severus was too tired to protest, and he leant his neck to the side for an easier access, brushing his hair lazily away.

With gentle fingers, she lifted the bandage and looked at the wounds. She grabbed something from her pocket, pulling out the stopper of the phial and dribbling it over her fingers before gently massaging it onto the wounds.

Because Nagini's fangs prevented most healers to work, the wounds were very slow to actually heal. But since the blood was replenishing in Severus, the potions were starting their work in getting rid of all the toxins.

Poppy completely removed the bandages, pulling Severus' shirt down his arm. She did stop for a moment as she felt his hand grab her wrist as she lowered the sleeve too much and revealed the scar on his arm.

Rather grumpily, Severus pulled the sleeve back up, covering the Dark Mark before settling back and allowing Poppy to give him a new bandage around his shoulder and neck. It took a few minutes for the process to be done in such a Muggle manor, but soon enough she'd stepped back.

"This should be your last replenisher," she noted, holding a small phial of potion. She handed it to the man who drank it. "Now, get into your nightclothes and get some rest. You look awfully pale, Severus, even for your complexion."

As Poppy drew the curtains around the bed, Snape didn't even feel like getting undressed. He did remove his vest though, tossing it onto the small table. He left his shirt on, though, and passed out before he could even change into his nightclothes and get beneath the sheets.

*****

It was some time into the night when Severus found himself trapped in a nightmare of the night on the Astronomy Tower. Sparkling blue eyes looked at him over those half-moon shaped spectacles. His heart pulled as Albus Dumbledore begged him for the secret message.

"Severus, please," the old wizard said, tears glistening in his eyes. He didn't want to do this. He never wanted to do this. Albus Dumbledore was the only man that ever trusted him! He took him in when he needed help the most! And here he was, begging him to kill him.

He couldn't hesitate, though, but the look in his eyes said it all. How much he didn't want to kill him even if he knew it was the only way that the Dark Lord would trust him completely. And as the green light filled his eyes, Severus's own eyes shot open.

Panting, the man swallowed hard as he felt sweat against his aching body. He stared at the ceiling for what seemed a long time, catching his breath as he remembered the murder he had committed. Dumbledore would have said it was a good deed of his, to put an old fool out of his misery the way he had. Quick and painless. But Severus knew better. No matter how much Albus had wanted this, he would always regret it. He'd murdered the greatest wizard that had ever lived.

Leaning up, he realised he was wearing a dark grey skivvy instead of his white dress shirt—which was now neatly folded on the table beside his bed. Poppy must have changed him in his sleep. Well, with the use of magic, many things were possible.

He felt the sweat on his neck, and he checked the bandage to see if it was still securely on, which it was. The heaviness he felt in his chest was something else, though. Something he would live with for a very long time.

Brushing back a thick strand of sweaty hair from his face, he gently pushed himself up and off the bed. Apparently Poppy had put him in some much more comfortable pants as well, his trousers also sitting neatly folded on the table.

Through the window, the moonlight was casting a great light into the hall, and he approached it, leaning an elbow onto the concrete sill. Outside, the grounds of Hogwarts castle were silent and unmoving. It wouldn't have even seemed like a war had gone on. The things magic could do.

He just gazed outside. Part of him didn't want to return to sleep in knowing that he would dream about what he had done to Dumbledore. It also reminded him of the nights he had spent here as a child. Blasted James Potter and Sirius Black. Not to mention that little rat Pittergrew—no pun intended.

At the same time, the moonlight reminded him of Remus Lupin. Although the werewolf had never personally attacked him, he'd made it clear to hate the entire group. And now Lupin was dead, with the rest of them. He really was the only person left that had any kind of contact with Harry Potter's family. Not that he'd call it a good kind of contact.

Leaning on his elbows, he looked at both of his pale hands, remembering the static of magic that had come from Harry. Had it actually meant anything at all? Had their magic really connected? He knew the boy was Lily's son, and that Lily was the love of his life, but the only thing he and her son shared were those gleaming green eyes.

Somehow, they even looked as gorgeous on Harry. No—what? That wasn't right. He was just a boy! He didn't care that the wizarding world had different morels to the Muggle one, but Potter was just as self-centred as his imbecilic father. Running into trouble all the time! It was pathetic. How he and Potter could have even shared some kind of magical experience was ridiculous beyond belief.

Snape scowled under his breath, putting his hands back down and folding them against his chest as gently as possible. The last thing he needed right now was to think about Potter. So he'd come to care for the boy, but it was nothing more than just protecting him. And even that he was hesitant to do. Sometimes he enjoyed watching him getting into trouble. Served the little prat right.

He frowned as he looked back out over the grounds. Even with the threat of the Dark Lord gone, Hogwarts didn't feel the same without Albus Dumbledore. He figured it was the same for many of the students and teachers as well. And it was his fault.

How others could forgive him for that was beyond him. And he was positive there were students and teachers out there who did blame him, and why shouldn't they? He never was black and white with his intentions. They probably still thought he was a coward, or wanted his place, or still worshipped the Dark Lord. Well, they could think what they wished, because he was the one that knew the truth, and that was all that mattered to him. He'd never cared for popularity.

As he turned to head back to bed, he stopped as he saw Minerva McGonagall standing beside the bed that he had come from. He stiffened a little, his hands going by his side.

"I miss him, too, Severus," said the elderly witch. "But you mustn't blame yourself." She approached the younger man but walked past him to where Severus had just been standing, looking out the window.

A gentle sigh came from her lips. Albus Dumbledore was one of her greatest friends as well. Although Severus saw the man more as a mentor and a fatherly figure as the lack of any, Minerva saw Albus as her best friend.

Moving his hands together, Severus slowly turned to face the woman, her usually tight knitted hair draped down her shoulders while she wore her nightgown. It honestly wasn't the first time they'd seen one another out of their usual daily clothes. And as much as many saw them as mortal enemies due to their houses, they actually respected one another greatly.

"I murdered one of the most brilliant wizards of all time… How could I possibly not blame myself?" he asked, his usual snarky voice rather soft in the night. Of course he blamed himself; he had been the one to do it. He had killed Dumbledore. No one else. Him. Alone. And Dumbledore had said he could handle it. Why? Because he was already evil?

Turning to look at the man, Minerva frowned. "Severus, Albus entrusted you to do this for him. Does that not say anything in how much you meant to him?"

Meant to him? Snape scoffed. "I was nothing but a pawn to both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. I had no choice. In a moment of weakness, I agreed to kill him when the time came. He never once thought I wouldn't want to do it. And why? Because I'm marked, like it didn't matter to kill him at all," he snapped, disregarding the fact that he should be taking care of himself right now.

The older woman's brows lifted in shock. "You dare think that Albus didn't care for you?" she shot at him. "Albus showed more trust in you than any of us. Even myself, Severus! When I should have trusted him, and instead I went against him, and I attacked you like a traitor. He gave you that duty because he knew you could do it for him! Even if it hurt to do so! He believed in you."

"Because I was already a criminal!" yelled the Slytherin, ignoring the shot of pain that went up his throat. "Did he for one second think that I would regret it!? Did he for one second think what I would have to live with after doing away with his life!? I will live with regret for the rest of my life, Minerva. People will scowl when they see me. The man who slaughtered the greatest wizard in the world, Severus Snape! As if I don't have enough misery in my life," he muttered, folding his arms.

Minerva shook her head in disbelief. If this were any other argument with the man, she would have no problem with tossing smart remarks back and forth between them, but the death of Albus Dumbledore was not something to joke about. This was serious, and she of all people knew how close the two of them had been. Although very secretive, she was not blind to their meetings and trust.

She let her stiff body relax as she approached him and put a hand to his shoulder as he sat on the bed. "Severus… Albus chose you not because of your past crimes, but because he knew you would do the right thing. He was dying," she said gently, watching his face closely for any sign of emotion. He was just blank, though, his expression unreadable.

Severus knew Dumbledore was dying; he had been the one to examine him. Why hadn't Dumbledore come to him before? He could have prolonged it. He could have helped more! Why did he even put that stupid cursed ring on!? That idiot!

Swallowing hard, his eyes lowered as he felt the woman's hand go to his own, which was on his knee. He hated being emotional. Usually it was quite easy to control himself, and there wasn't much of anything to be sad over, or to care about. But the death of Albus Dumbledore had had a great impact on everyone, including himself. And having to hold everything in, in front of Dumbledore, in front of the Dark Lord? He was beginning to reach his limit.

"Do you suppose he forgives me?" he asked, though taking his hand back. He really did not need the head of Gryffindor or the headmistress of Hogwarts to comfort him like he was some lowly child. Of course, it was probably natural instinct for her, as it would be any Gryffindor, but Slytherin's didn't accept comfort so easily. Nor was he used to it.

"I'd go as far to say he thanks you," said the woman, her tight lips going into a gentle smile. "If that night on the Astronomy Tower did not happen, then there is no telling what could have happened in such a change of events."

"And Potter?" he asked, surprising himself with the question. He looked away, as if he didn't care.

Minerva smirked a little, pushing her glasses up. "The boy has become quite attached to you since he saw your memories in the Pensieve, actually," she said. "I don't think you'll have any trouble with Harry Potter on the thoughts of Dumbledore's death. He's seen more than most of us have…"

Standing up, she gave the man a gentle look. "Get some rest, Severus," she whispered, "In the morning, you should be able to return to your own common room. Oh… and I do apologise for… well, trying to kill you," she said, her cheeks flushing a little as she turned around and headed back for her own quarters.

Severus watched as the woman walked from the hospital wing. He turned back to the window, giving an aggravated sigh before lying back down rather aggressively despite his wounds.

*****

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry stared at the ceiling, still awake. It was hard to sleep when so much was on his mind. He wasn't just thinking about what he and Hermione had talked about, but a lot of other things too, like all the people he'd lost.

He frowned, touching the scar on his forehead. Of course, it didn't hurt anymore, and he more than welcomed that. It was the first time in his life where he felt free. Free from the Dusrley's, free from Voldemort. He had to smile at that. But life didn't just stop being complicated there, he was a teenager after all, and everything seemed to be complicated when you were a teenager.

The hormones. All the weird changes. It was even worse for witches and wizards. At least now he could get away with doing magic outside of school if anything strange happened with his temper. Being overage was a wonderful thing.

Turning to look at Ron, who was asleep in his own bed, he leant up, looking around the room. Everyone else was asleep as well. It wasn't often he fell asleep before anyone else, though. Seamus, Dean and Neville were all perfectly asleep in their own beds.

Turning to his side, he put his glasses back on, the room coming into clear view. He didn't know what time it was, but he wasn't very tired, and his mind wouldn't shut up for the life of him. So instead, he whispered to Ron, trying to wake him up.

The red-haired boy took a moment to wake up, but eventually he did with a snore, Harry looking around to see if anyone else had heard. Apparently not—which was a good thing.

Rubbing his eyes, Ron frowned. "Harry? You alright, mate?" he asked. Of course, Harry didn't just wake him up for no apparent reason. Usually it was to go and do something they shouldn't be after hours. But considering the threat at Hogwarts was gone… well, he was rather curious.

Besides not being able to sleep, Harry just shrugged a little in his large T-shirt. "I know this might sound off, but… have you and Hermione… well, you know?" he asked. It seemed to take Ron a moment to understand what he was talking about, but when he realised, it was clear the other boy was red with embarrassment.

"What!?" asked Ron in almost shock. "N-no, we haven't… done 'it'," he said, raising a brow. "Why?" Then it struck him, his face going rather pale. "Oh, blimey, you're not talking about Ginny, are you? She's my sister!"

Harry shook his head quickly, pushing himself up and putting a hand up. "No. I'm just… I was curious," he asked with a shrug. "I don't have any parents, remember? I just thought… well, you're my best friend. I thought I could talk about this kind of stuff with you."

Ron seemed to calm at hearing that, relaxing against the bed a little. "Well… what do you wanna know?" he asked. "I mean, surely you know the basics, right?"

"Yeah, I got that," Harry laughed almost nervously. "But… I heard that in the wizarding world it's completely normal for two guys or two girls to… date," he said. Ron looked at him oddly, like it was strange to hear that that wouldn't be normal. "In the Muggle world, it's a bit different," he added. "Most people don't like the thought of two men or women getting married."

Ron's brows arched a little, but he gave a gentle shrug. "I think I heard my Dad talking about that once. Never really got into listening to it, but yeah… It's pretty normal in the wizarding world," he said, as if it meant little to nothing.

"It's the pure-bloods you gotta look out for," he mentioned. "Since there's not as many of them left, some of them stay within their own families to reproduce."

Narrowing his eyes a little, Harry poked out his tongue in disgust. "You're a pure-blood, Ron."

"So? Doesn't mean I'm gunna go and date Ginny," he said, revolted at the thought. He as well poked his tongue out. "Plus, my family doesn't care about that kind of stuff. You should know that by now. Look at Hermione." Of course, he didn't mean that in a negative way.

Harry just nodded. "Okay, well… I guess I'll stay away from those, then," he laughed, as if trying to let some of the tension from the room slip away. How to tell Ron about Ginny, though? He had no idea. He didn't want to hurt his feelings, and he knew how protective Ron could get.

The red-haired teenager just laughed back. "Was there anything else?"

The green eyes lowered a little, his hand touching the arm Snape had grabbed. He looked at it, feeling the energy in himself prickle for a moment. "What about age differences?" he asked, looking back up.

Relaxing a little, as it wasn't about Ginny or Hermione, Ron laid back in his bed, putting his hands beneath his head. "Well, that depends," he said, giving a shrug. "I mean… it would be awkward marrying someone like Professor McGonagall," he laughed, "but someone like… in their 30's would be fine for us, if that makes sense?" He waited for confirmation before continuing. "That new lady professor, I forgot her name, now she's a catch, and they reckon she's forty something," he laughed with a grin.

"Because witches and wizards live longer?" Harry wondered. When Ron nodded, Harry stopped and thought about it for a moment. He knew Dumbledore was a hundred and fifteen when he died, and the man still seemed to have plenty of life with him. So he gathered age gaps would be completely different to the Muggle world. It was considered a miracle if someone lived past one-hundred. You even got a card from the Queen!

As Ron yawned, Harry thought he'd heard enough for the night, and instead of asking more questions, which he knew would only make more arise, he leant back down into the soft sheets of the bed. "Night, Ron."

"G'night, Harry," came a lethargic reply before the red-head fell asleep.

*****

The following morning, the few remaining students and teachers sat in the Great Hall for breakfast. Severus was dressed in his usual clothes, though his thick, black robes still removed. He had a bowl of porridge in front of him, though he wasn't paying much attention to it as he was speaking casually with McGonagall.

After he'd rested last night, he was feeling much better. Poppy had said that he was fine to return to his own chambers now that the toxins were removed from his system and the ointments were working at full capacity to heal the wounds. The bandages were still on, though.

They were half way through breakfast when the mail started coming in, owl after owl flying down to drop off any mail to the students and teachers. Naturally, he was gifted with no mail, to which he preferred. Mail usually meant a bad thing in his books, but he did watch as the majestic birds swooped and dived to deliver their parcels. He did notice, however, that Errol had arrived, crashlanding onto the Gryffindor table, the ungraceful clutz of a bird.

Snape kept back a smirk as he watched the bird fluff up and act as if nothing happened. Weasley scolded the bird, though, but his eyes went to Potter, the boy sitting with his cheek in his palm. He no doubt missed Hedwig. The snowy owl had sacrificed herself for Harry, and he had seen it in the midst of the battle he had been summoned to when Potter had moved from Privet Drive.

Across the hall, Ron seemed to see the same that Professor Snape had, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Harry. These holidays, why don't we go looking for another for you?" he offered, Harry taking the Daily Prophet from Errol and opening it. He, on the other hand, opened the letter from his mother, making sure Harry and Hermione were staying with them these holidays.

Harry read the front page of the newspaper, which was still on the defeat of Voldemort. He couldn't wait until it was just history. He was quite tired of seeing his own face in the tabloids.

"Yeah… sure," he mumbled, pushing the paper away and giving a fake smile. He didn't wish to bring down his friends over the death of his owl, but he had loved Hedwig. Though a very smug owl she could be, she was still family to him.

Hermione, who was about to say something, stopped immediately when the doors to the Great Hall opened, three men who wore thick clothing walking in. Most of the hall turned in their direction as they approached the hall.

"Who do you suppose they are?" she whispered, both Ron and Harry shrugging their shoulders, though eyes still following the three men. They were Aurors for sure with the way they were dressed and protected.

"I guess we're about to find out," Harry noted.

At the sight of the men, McGonagall stood from her seat. "Gentlemen, how may I help you?" she asked, looking at the papers that were slapped onto the table before her.

"Armin Stuka," informed the man in the middle, having put the papers down. He had chest-length, wavy brown hair, dark eyes and very sharp brows. "Auror for the Ministry of Magic. We have a warrant for Severus Snape's arrest for the murder of Albus Dumbledore."

Harry's eyes widened as he heard the words, a few gasps coming from the hall. He watched Snape as he looked at Armin. Why were they coming now!? Dumbledore's death was months ago now. The Ministry had Snape's back once Kingsley became Minister and found out the truth.

"Now that you've recovered, Mister Snape, I must insist that you serve your time in Azkaban," said the head man, his eyes dark as they narrowed towards the professor.

McGonagall picked up the paper's and read them. This was clearly some kind of mistake. This had all been sorted out with Kingsley after the battle at Hogwarts. In turn for Snape's protection of the boy who defeated Voldemort, he'd gained his freedom, not to mention Dumbledore's death had been explained. It was a mercy killing.

"Excuse me, but I will not have you taking a professor without reason. Have you not already spoken to the Minister on this matter? If you had, you would know that Severus Snape is not to be taken to Azkaban for any reason. He is a hero!"

"You'll protect a Death Eater?" Stuka scoffed. "We are Aurors, and we hunt Death Eaters. This man was a loyal subject of You-Know-Who, and thus he must be taken in."

"I will have no such thing!" the headmistress snapped, putting a hand on Severus' sore shoulder and pushing him back down in his seat. He hissed in pain, but she made it clear that he was not going anywhere.

"Now, before I inform the Minister himself of such ridiculous accusations, you best remove yourselves from the grounds before I toss you out myself."

Armin sneered, his hand twitching, and within a flash, both Snape and McGonagall had their wands pointing at him, the three Auror's returning the favour.

A smirk crossed his lips. "You dare stay where you slaughtered the great Albus Dumbledore?" he jeered, dark eyes on the other almost black ones.

The hall at Hogwarts had gone still and silent, and Harry could hear his heart pounding into his head. He wanted to grab his own wand and point it at this daft man. How dare he accuse Snape of any of those things!? He had done nothing but protect him his whole stay here. If anything, Snape had been closer to Dumbledore than anyone else in this room!

He felt his fingers twitching, reaching for his own wand that was in his pocket and slipping it out. He didn't know why, but he had an overwhelming urge to protect the professor. Maybe because he felt like he owed him so much for all he'd done.

Snape's brows deepened as he scowled, his wand directed to the man's heart. "Clearly, you have little knowledge of what actually occurred that night," he said darkly. He could easily kill this man. An Auror? More like a bounty hunter that was in it just for the kill. He should have known this would happen.

As Armin hissed, about to throw a curse, Harry stood up from his seat. "No!" he yelled, catching everyone else's attention. He pointed his wand to the head of the group, eyes fierce. "If you knew anything about Albus Dumbledore, then you would know that Professor Snape did what was asked of him," he said. He would not have another person die in front of him.

Watching as those green eyes burned, Severus was surprised anyone would interfere, especially Potter. He would have figured him paying for his crimes in Azkaban would have pleased the boy greatly considering how much he'd cared for Dumbledore.

He didn't lower his wand, though, and although his eyes were on Harry in utter astonishment, he was watching very closely for any sudden movement from the other men in the room.

At the sight of Harry Potter, Armin almost dropped to his knees. "Mister Potter," he said in shock. "This man is responsible for the murder-,"

"No! This man is responsible for saving my life!" Harry declared. "If Professor Snape did not protect me, then Voldemort would still be slaughtering innocent others. Now lower your wand." He ignored the flinches as he'd spoken Voldermort's name. People really needed to get over that.

Though hesitant, Armin did what he was told by the famous Harry Potter. He shook his long, wavy hair from his face. "As you wish, Mister Potter."

Harry had a feeling that his victory had made him more of an idol than he'd realised. These men were not Aurors. They were bounty hunters with papers and a reward for Snape's head. Clearly loyal followers to Dumbledore, but with no knowledge on the real happenings. And in return, they would be loyal to him, too.

"I want you to leave," he said, lowering his wand. "Don't ever come back here, and don't ever try to hunt this man again, do you understand me?" Although his voice was shaken, it was very clear that it was a promise that if he ever came back here it would mean trouble.

Stuka's jaw went tight, and he looked to his fellow men, giving them a nod of the head. "We are forever in your debt, Mister Potter," he said, bowing his head lightly. He shot a heated glare at Snape before he stormed from the hall, his men following him out.

As the doors closed with a bang, Harry realised that all eyes were on his, including Professor Snape's. He felt his skin burn as he hadn't realised what had come over him. And then he was grabbed by the collar, looking at the very man he had just saved from Azkaban or death.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Potter!?" spat Snape, throwing the boy from him. "I don't need your protection." He then stormed from the hall himself, the doors slamming closed behind him, too.

Harry just stood there, gathering himself and feeling his blood pulse. He swallowed hard and looked around, Ron and Hermione staring at him.