Previously in twenty-one days

He turned and gazed towards Granger and Longbottom when Potter closed his eyes obediently, or simply because he was too tired to keep them open any longer.

"You two as well." He said. "Sleep. It's the best you can do right now."

Chapter five

Day three

Wednesday, fourth of September

He entered his classroom after – yet again to no avail – trying the floo, the doors, after trying to summon a house elf and finally after heating water to cook another round of the cataneo roots. They would be able to eat them today and maybe tomorrow morning before there were none left and mentally he already had thought of other things safe to eat down here.

Well, there were several plants and other roots he could 'brew' a – kind of 'soup' from for a day or two more and there were several herbs he could use in a tea and add honey into, which he had down here as well. Enough at least so they would be able to cover tea for four or five days more. But after that it would get difficult. After that he actually had to be really carefully.

He could use crushed sunjata roots to several ingredients that were poisonous to extract the poison. Cooked to a kind of soup they would get through two or three more days. It wouldn't be much, but it would be something. All in all, it would keep them alive for at least a week. He wasn't sure what to do if they were still locked down here after that.

He would give them nutrition potions of course, and he had enough ingredients to brew a few more batches so it would last another week for seventeen students – maybe. But nutrition potions wouldn't keep them alive forever and by the time he would have to use this one, they already would be week. Nothing he looked forwards to.

The cataneo roots would take an hour and so he quickly and quietly entered the classroom, knowing that the students all were close to lose their nerves meanwhile.

"What?" Weasley asked the moment he entered the classroom, horror on his face. "Are you crazy, mate?"

"Well, you either can sit here and think about being hungry, or you can do something to get your mind off it." Potter said. "And the best thing to do is to learn."

"But … think about it. Potions?"

"We're in the potions classroom, aren't we? It doesn't matter what we do as long as we do something." Potter answered the red head the moment Snape reached his desk and he had to admit that the brat was right. He just wondered that Potter of all people suggested to learn and – well, potions, of all subjects. "And besides, it might work. We just have to ask."

"Well, you may ask then." Weasley sounded angry now, turning away and throwing himself onto his mattress in a fit of anger and for a moment he was close to snapping at the youngest Weasley. He was fourteen and not four anymore. But then he sighed. He would have to deal with such reactions more often during the next days and he better got used to it. They all were fourteen, yes, but they all were in a situation that was frightening and anything else than easy for them.

They were still children and thus he should allow them to act like children.

Potter, slowly approaching his desk, an unsure gaze on his face, got him out of his musings and he looked up, annoyed at the Gryffindor and his damn Gryffindor-courage. He watched Potter, approaching him slowly, and for a moment he again had the impression that the boy was afraid of him, whatever reason for.

He laid the parchments where he had begun to take notes about the past two days and his stocks of potions ingredients they would be able to use down onto the wooden surface of the table and looked over his desk at the brat.

"Uhm, sorry, Professor." Potter began and now he couldn't help but narrowing his eyes for a moment at the brat.

"Yes?" He then asked, his eyebrow lifted but his face otherwise as indifferent as always.

"Well, I just wanted to ask … well …" Lowering his eyes towards the floor Potter was about to turn and leave.

"Continue, Potter." He growled, trying to keep most of his irritation out of his voice.

"I just … I wanted to ask if maybe we could brew a potion." Potter even took a step back from his desk now and he narrowed his eyes at the brat again. No, that definitely was not the Potter he knew.

"Which one did you have in mind, Potter?" He asked, curious if Potter had given it a deeper thought or if the brat was just trying to get his mind off the situation they were in.

"A nutrition potion maybe, Professor." He said and he actually had to lift his eyebrow. He had been sure that – if the boy would suggest one – then he would suggest dreamless sleep. "That would be the most logical I can think of right now … but maybe … what I thought of … I mean … well …"

"Potter!" Snape snapped. There simply was nothing worse than a student that stuttered at him. He preferred complete sentences in an eloquent and fluid language. "Say what you want to say, Mr. Potter." He added in a more calm voice, reminding himself that Potter was one of those who didn't cause trouble but actually wanted to help.

"Sorry, sir." The brat apologized and Snape couldn't help lifting his eyebrow at him. "I just thought, well, the bezoar would safe one from most poisons. You said so in my first year. So, I just wondered if there would be a possibility to maybe crush the bezoar. And use it in a potion or something like that. I mean, that would allow us to use even ingredients that would be poisonous otherwise."

"I am glad that something got stuck in that brain of yours for longer than a few minutes, Mr. Potter, and I appreciate your attempt to be of help what will get you two more points." He said, hoping that he had chosen his words not too harshly. He really appreciated Potter's wish to be helpful. "But regrettably it wouldn't work. First, you cannot crush the bezoar and second it would be deadly poisonous by itself if you cooked the stone. I wonder however how you come by the information about nutrition potions as those are covered in only NEWT classes, easy to brew, yes, but being dangerous if brewed incorrectly."

"Well, it was mentioned in last year's potions book." Potter answered, blushing furiously what gave his otherwise pale face a deeper red than it originally would have looked like and Snape couldn't help but lowering his head to one side, startled at the fact that the brat actually had looked into his book outside of classes. "Well, in the chapter where healing potions were covered."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. Or had there been a reason as to why he had looked through those chapters during his holidays? Because even if it was in the book, he never covered chapter twenty-seven. He covered those potions with his sixth years only as they were dangerous to brew.

He wanted to have a word with Potter anyway, and he wanted this word with him before their – well – 'breakfast' … so, it might be now.

"If you would follow me into my office for a moment, Mr. Potter." He finally said, getting to his feet. "I wanted to have a word with you anyway."

He went over to his office, adding two points to Potter's name on the board on his way, and closed the door as soon as the boy had stepped in after him.

"Sit down." He said, pointing at a chair in front of the desk, the one Potter had been sitting in the night before, while he rounded his desk and took a seat too.

"Sir?" Potter asked and he could not only see the nervousness the boy felt, but he could hear it in his voice too. He sighed, not quite knowing how to begin.

"Well, Mr. Potter." He finally began, once again pinching the bridge of his nose. "I guess I really could allow you to brew the nutrient potion. I would have brewed it anyway, but I can allow you doing so as I know you want to get your classmates busy so they might not think too much over the situation."

"But those potions won't keep us alive forever." Potter said and it was more a whisper than anything else.

"No, they won't, Mr. Potter, but by tomorrow or the day after tomorrow at the latest, someone will have found a way to get past those wards." Hopefully. He added in his mind, sighing, hoping that he did the right thing in telling things that might be a lie. "Whatever wards that might be." He added, shaking his head. He still had no answer to this.

"Maybe." Potter quietly answered, so quietly, that he nearly missed it, before he looked up and addressed him. "But I guess you know as well as I do that maybe it might take them a few more days or maybe even weeks, Professor." His voice was still low and calm and for a moment Snape wondered how the boy could be so calm when most of the other students were either sobbing or beginning to fight.

"Sorry, sir." Potter quickly added, looking aside.

"That might be, Mr. Potter." Snape finally admitted, piercing the teenager with his dark eyes. "And there is no need to apologize for stating your opinion. Here we however reach the subject I wanted to address you with anyway." His eyes never leaving the teenager in front of him, he leaned forwards. "I have noticed that you do not eat the roots I hand out, Mr. Potter. But as it has been you, who pointed out that it might be a few more days and even weeks, you should know that it is important that everyone, and that includes you too, eats the little that is here."

Sighing in frustration Potter looked at the ground beneath his feet.

"Yes, sir." He murmured, not looking at him and Snape immediately knew that it was an only half hearted answer spoken out of rather guilt than anything else.

"So, care to explain as to why you gave your food away, Mr. Potter?" He asked out of curiosity and maybe to get the teenager to see how important it was.

"Well …" The boy murmured. "They're hungry."

"Oh." Snape couldn't help making. "And you are not?"

"Uhm …" Potter made and this time Snape narrowed his eyes at the teen that definitely didn't want to admit to him that he too was hungry, and he wondered why.

"Well?"

"Well … yes." Potter then murmured before he looked up, nearly defiantly and he again narrowed his eyes at the brat. "But that is different."

"And that might be - why?" He asked, not knowing what the teen was playing at, what he meant, why it would be different.

"I'm used to!" Potter answered angrily, not noticing him furrowing his brows at him. "They're not! They don't know how to handle it! They … they …"

"Please inform me, Mr. Potter, what exactly do you mean with 'they don't know how to handle it'." He silently asked. "And why it is that you would be used to being hungry."

There was a pause during which Potter watched him with startled eyes for a moment and Snape almost could see the wheels in his brain turning, working, until the brat recognized what he had said and he looked aside.

"Well, you don't eat anything either! Sir." The boy then tried to get the subject off himself. Of course - they all did.

"I am not under consideration, Mr. Potter." He growled darkly. "But you are."

"But that's not fair!" Potter still tried to get the subject off himself.

"I never said it was." Snape leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. Something was going wrong right now, he knew it. And he had a bad feeling that he would not like it. "But as I am the adult here, your teacher, and the one in responsibility, it will go the way I say. Thus I am not under consideration, Mr. Potter, but you are. And now try again, Mr. Potter. Or let me rephrase my question into a more direct one. When had been the last time you actually did eat anything?"

"At the welcoming feast! Sir." Potter quickly answered, a bit too quickly for his liking as if he had feared this question might come. And a bit too defiantly too. Again. "As had everyone else!" Potter added.

"And before that? Mr. Potter?" He asked, watching the teenager close.

"The night before." Potter answered. "I didn't have time for breakfast on September the first."

"Forgive me, Potter, but you do look as if you hadn't eaten anything for days before coming back to school, not only missing - breakfast - and I begin to wonder why that might be."

"But I did!" Potter said, his tone still angry and defiant. "The night before I got on the train."

"You already said so, Mr. Potter." Snape calmly said, narrowing his eyes. "And might I ask when you have eaten before that?"

"Uhm …" Potter made, looking aside now, all defiance gone.

"Well?" Snape asked, still calmly, even if he didn't feel calm at all. If Potter tried to avoid answering this question, then it wasn't a good sign. And even if the brat just didn't remember, then this already was bad enough. Potter wasn't half as stupid as he always had given him credit for and thus, if he wasn't able to remember a meal before the last one he had mentioned, then it must have been a long time ago.

"Dunno." Potter finally mumbled. "Can't remember, sir."

"You cannot remember what you had for lunch the day before you got back to Hogwarts?" Snape finally asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Uhm …" Potter made again, yet, he wasn't really annoyed at the teen's lack of articulation abilities. He had a much more bothersome problem at his hands right now. "I didn't have lunch this day."

"You didn't have lunch on that day." Snape repeated, huffing. "And breakfast?"

Potter only shook his head.

Gritting his teeth Snape stood up and rounded his desk, leaning against the wooden table and folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Then tell me, Mr. Potter, and do try to remember, when had been the last time you have eaten?" He asked quietly, with a calmness he didn't feel and again there was a long pause during which Potter didn't look at him but at the floor.

He was just about to ask again when the teenager suddenly draw his arms around his midsection and bent forwards.

"I don't know, sir." Potter finally whispered and he had to listen close now. "It's been a while."

"What is a while in your opinion, Mr. Potter?" He asked, forcing himself to stay calm, his mind racing a mile a minute, wondering why Potter hadn't eaten for a while, not daring to think the worst yet.

"A week or so, I guess." Potter again murmured.

"And might I dare asking how long you have not eaten before that?"

"I don't know, sir." Came Potter's whisper.

Closing his eyes Snape again gritted his teeth.

"And what had it been you have been eaten back then?" He asked, his face becoming darker with each question, yet – Potter only shrugged his shoulders, still not looking at him. Turning back towards the desk and leaning his hands onto the wooden surface for a moment to hide his own frustration he decided to try another approach and to play out the card in his sleeve, just like the night before. He had gotten Potter back then and he would get him now too. He wouldn't be Snape if he wouldn't find a way.

Well, as strange as it sounded to him, but Potter seemed to search for his approval - the same thing his Slytherins searched. So - if his Slytherins didn't want to disappoint him, then maybe Potter didn't want to disappoint him too. Again, as strange as it might sound to him and for a moment he wondered if it always had been this way and he only had never seen it.

"I already told you yesterday, that I really appreciate your calmness in this situation, your goodwill and your ability to look for solutions that might help, to look out to your classmates, trying to comfort them." He said, turning back and gazing at the teenager who already squirmed on the chair, apparently knowing what would come next.

"And I do appreciate the fact that you are ready to lay prejudices aside and handle the Slytherins as you would handle your Gryffindor classmates. But yet again, you do not trust me, Mr. Potter." He said. "Yet again, you try to hide the truth from me. Yet again you do not accept my hand I reach towards you. What makes me feel disappointed. I thought you would be ready to get over your prejudices towards me too by now, Mr. Potter and to be honest, I thought I could rely on you."

The pale face he had in front of him now, looking at him with shock in much too large green eyes, told him enough, he didn't need the small whispered "I'm sorry, sir" Potter gave away and he had to grit his teeth yet again to not back away and give in to the teen he had in front of him.

"So, do you want to try again, Mr. Potter?" He asked, his eyebrow lifted at him in his typical Snape-manner, his hands held behind his back and his stance rather cold now.

"I just don't get much to eat at the Dursleys, sir." Potter finally murmured towards the floor. "So I had to sneak a slice of bread out of the kitchen every now and then. It just won't work every day."

Seething in anger Snape came closer, not really caring if he scared Potter right now. He was barely able to suppress the fury he felt.

"So, care to tell me, Mr. Potter, as to how often you are able to – 'sneak out a slice of bread'?" He asked.

"Well … twice a week or so. Sometimes. But …"

Suddenly Snape wasn't able to control his rage any longer and he grabbed Potter at the scruff of his neck, lifting him from the chair he was sitting at, ignoring the startled yelp and the flinch when the boy tried to get away from him. His fingers lost the grip on Potter's shirt with the boy's backwards movement and remained splayed in midair for a moment while the teenager scrambled backwards, fearfully, his green eyes wide with alarm.

"Potter!" He barked, reaching forwards and grabbing the teen firmly by the shoulder. "I am not angry at you!" He growled in a low voice, as if trying this way to control his rage, fixing the smaller form that still tried to huddle away from him. "But kindly inform me as to how long this has going on at your relatives' house?"

"Dunno." Potter murmured, watching him warily, trying to shrug his shoulders.

"How long, Mr. Potter?" Snape slowly and in a threateningly silent voice asked again.

"It always has been like that." Potter answered and Snape finally released the boy, shoving him back into the chair while he himself sat at the edge of his desk to prevent himself from pacing his office angrily.

"Potter." He began, not sure what to do next and he ran his hand over his face in frustration.

As it seemed Potter had not eaten a real meal since weeks, had eaten none to nothing in weeks actually, was already too thin. He had noticed it how light he was when he had lifted him from the chair and he had noticed how bony his shoulder was when he had grabbed him. Once more he closed his eyes for a moment, frustration running through him.

As it seemed, Potter would be the first of them to die. Followed by Theodore.

"Harry." He tried again, going from the boy's sure name to his given name to ensure that he had the boy's attention. It really wasn't important how he addressed them all down here. "Is there anything else I should know, Harry?" He finally asked and he only could huff at the headshake the boy gave him.

He only could sigh once more in frustration.

"I want you to eat each – 'meal' … we can get down here." He finally said, coming back to his normal self. At least close to it. "No exceptions. You do already look close to starving. It is important that everyone, and that includes you, Mr. Potter, keeps up as much strength as possible. None of you can afford to miss anything to eat. And you the least."

"If you do the same, sir." Potter had the nerve to answer and for a moment his anger flared anew, this time only at the teenager in front of him and he nearly missed the boy's next words. "You said you are responsible for us. So you have to be strong as well. If you're the first to die, then who will keep the others alive? They won't be able to survive alone."

"As it is, Mr. Potter …" For a moment he was about to say that Potter would be the first one to die and not him, but then he gritted his teeth. He wouldn't do them any good if he told Potter this bit of information. It wouldn't do them any good if he startled Potter more than he already was. And besides, the brat was right.

Yet – he didn't miss Potter's choice of words – the others, and they. The boy already knew.

"Well." He said. "Then be it, Mr. Potter. But never ever again - asbolutely - never - again - question my actions, did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Potter answered, again to the floor. "Sorry, sir."

Snape gave a curt nod before he placed a hand on Potter's shoulder, fixing the teenager with his dark gaze.

"I meant what I said earlier, Mr. Potter." He growled darkly, not used to comfort a Gryffindor. "I am proud of your actions down here since Monday morning. What makes the disappointment in your mistrust towards me just the worse." Well, he had not intended to say that, but he had to admit, it was the truth. "You might brew the nutrition potion after our – 'breakfast'." He added to get his normal and cold demeanour back in place.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Snape waited until Potter had left his office before he allowed himself to place his forehead on his hand, a silent "Merlin" escaping him and he remembered the game between Tracy and Potter. He should have known back then.

"I don't know what spaghetti tastes like, so I guess better being safe than sorry and I say pumpkin cake."

"I personally prefer the night. Because during the night everyone is sleeping and then I can have a bit of freedom for myself."

"I have a cousin and that is enough for a live time. I surely would need neither a brother nor a sister."

"Summer. Even if summer might not be such a good choice as well, but I never had a Christmas tree to look at."

"Because I have to do the entire housework during the summer and just once I would like to rather do homework instead of scrubbing floors and windows and cooking or doing the laundry."

So – Potter was not only neglected by them, but they kept him as a house elf too. He really didn't have to wonder anymore why the brat never had his summer assignments. Did Albus know about this? Or Minerva? With a huff he shook his head. They surely didn't know. Potter would be the first one who by free will would admit that he was neglected.

"Go and get some sleep, Ron. It helps."

"Cataneo roots are not poisonous."

"Because I have nightmares. Sometimes. I have used a silencing spell."

"I just don't get much to eat at the Dursleys, sir. So I had to sneak a slice of bread out of the kitchen every now and then. It just won't work every day. Twice a week or so. Sometimes."

And now that he remembered and tried to catch the unspoken words, those between the words Potter actually had spoken, he suddenly knew that there was more. As if it would be a wonder. A child that was neglected, most probably was abused too. But honestly, Potter had a slice of bread twice a week? Sometimes? That was more than just simple neglect. That was …

"You could be locked in a cupboard, couldn't you?"

"They did nothing!"

"I don't know, sir. It's been a while. A week or so, I guess."

"But … but why … why would anyone want this?"

"It always has been like that."

"I'm used to! They're not! They don't know how to handle it!"

Blinking in confusion he remembered a letter on Minerva's desk, during summer three years ago, when he had visited her for tea. He had huffed at the letter back then after reading the name. But now, considering Potter's neglect at the hands of his relatives, and considering the boy's comments, the address he had read on the letter made much more sense suddenly.

'Mr. H. Potter

The cupboard under the stairs

# 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey'

Why had he never seen it before?

He had acknowledged that the boy was ridiculous thin after holidays and this year he even had considered to mention it to Minerva. And he also had acknowledged that Potter always was more jumpy after the holidays. That the word 'fear' somehow seemed to be written in red letters across his forehead.

And then the way his hands had trembled when he had taken the dreamless sleep potion last night. The way he had hugged himself, as if never being comforted by someone else than himself, as if to keep himself from falling apart. The way the brat had smiled at him when he had given him those blasted points. Points! Simple points! And the way the brat had been close to tears afterwards, after telling him that he had been disappointed in him for not trusting him.

Potter never had had an adult who cared. And now that he had shown him the slightest act of caring, the teen nearly had cried when he had told him that he was disappointed in him. Closing his eyes he wondered where in Merlin's name that would lead to. And running his hand over his face he wondered how long in Merlin's name Potter would survive. He had to know more about Potter's actual condition if he …

Well, no. he did not have to know. He already did know. And he knew that there was no way that the brat would survive too long. The boy had nothing on his bones to begin with.

Crabbe, Goyle and Blaze on the Slytherin side, as well as Weasley, Longbottom, Finnigan and Thomas on the Gryffindor side, they would have a hard time, but they had chances to survive at least two or three weeks. Even Bulstrode, Pansy and Daphne as well as Brown and Granger would manage, somehow.

But Draco had not many reserves, and neither had Patil. And Theodore, Tracy and Potter, they would be the first ones to die, with Potter in the clear lead.

After slamming his fist onto the surface of his desk, just to get some of his strain off, he went into the laboratory to get the roots. He would have to use all his brains the next few days. If he wouldn't be able to get them enough to eat so each of them had a chance, then he simply would have to get them out of the dungeons.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

This day wasn't destined however to get any better, as he soon learned.

In the aftermath, he thought that he should have known better, he knew Crabbe and Goyle after all, and even if Weasley wasn't in his house, he knew the youngest red head. And all three of them were the same. They were not only gruffly if they were hungry, they even could get dangerous then.

At least Weasley, as he learned that day.

During the day the Slytherins and the Gryffindors had been coming closer to the small fire that was burning in the fireplace. He knew they were cold, but he didn't dare to light the fire more than he did right now, knowing that they wouldn't have enough wood forever and he couldn't use magic to keep it going or to cast a warming spell. He already had tried those options throughout the past days since they were here in this damn situation.

And thus they all had begun to huddle closer together, as close as possible to the fireplace. And thus it had been easy for Potter to hear Crabbe's comment about being hungry. Not his first one. But – much to his annoyance – Crabbe actually had asked Potter if he wasn't hungry as he only nibbled at his root, slowly, and if he could have it then and Potter – again much to his annoyance – had given the reminder of it to Crabbe who had taken it gladly and for a moment he couldn't suppress his anger.

"Potter!" He called out angrily, followed by a "Crabbe!" and both boys looked up at him, startled. Potter with a guilty look on his face and Crabbe with a questioningly. He really would have to address them with this and he would have to address them now. All of them should eat their rations and none of them should ask others for more.

At the same time Weasley however looked at Potter with a strange look on his face and before he could say something the redhead was up from his mattress he was sitting at and had shoved Potter at the wall to his left.

"What are you doing?" He hissed angrily. "Giving the root to Crabbe? A Slytherin?"

"Stop it, Ron!" Granger stood up too, just the moment when he, Snape, quickly rounded his desk with an angry shouted "Weasley!". "Harry had given one to you yesterday." Granger continued. "And to Lavender too."

"He gives food away to the Slytherins!" Weasley growled darkly and he was just in time to prevent Molly's youngest son from hitting his fist into Potter's face who was strangely frozen, not making any attempts to defend himself. He caught Weasley's wrist and held it in a firm grip, his dark eyes piercing the Gryffindor.

"What a display of behaviour, Mr. Weasley." He hissed. "Going against your own upon a situation that isn't as easy as you are used to. Unhand Mr. Potter this instant." He threatened and only when the boy had released Potter's shirt and thus stopped pinning him against the wall did he release Weasley's wrist.

"Are you alright, Potter?" He asked, his eyes not leaving Weasley.

He only saw the black haired boy nod out of the corner of his eyes before he answered with a silent and chocked "yes, sir" and he gave his attention back to the red haired boy in front of him completely. He knew that Weasley only was hungry, as they all were, but he knew that this was only the beginning and if the boy didn't begin to see reason soon, then the situation would go out of hands within the next two days.

"If I ever see you acting in such a way again, Mr. Weasley, then be assured you will find yourself in quite some trouble." He softly said, too softly for the liking of his Slytherins who knew him well enough to know that this was a dangerous moment. "I won't take house points, I do not even know if it would be possible right now, and neither will I get you scrubbing cauldrons as every one of us has to keep as much strength up as possible. But just to begin with, you might sit yourself onto your sorry behind and write an essay as to what you did, why you did it and what it meant to your friend. Three feet of parchment. You have until this evening."

"But …"

"There are no buts, Mr. Weasley." Snape leaned closer and hissed angrily. "You will write this essay and you will do so now!"

"You're bleeding, Harry." He heard Granger's startled voice coming from his left and he frowned. Weasley had not hitten Potter. But maybe he had shoved him harder into the wall than he had thought and maybe Potter had hit his head. He would have a look at him as soon as Weasley was seated on one of the desks.

"'M fine, 'Mione." He heard Potter answering. "Just forget it."

Watching Weasley stomping towards the desks angrily and getting his parchments, ink and quill out he turned towards Potter, watching the teen over, ignoring the uncomfortable look the boy gave him.

"On his back, sir." Granger pointed out and Snape grabbed Potter's shoulder and simply turned him.

They all had abandoned their cloaks during the day, sparing them for the night, knowing that they would welcome their warmth during the nights that were colder than the days, even with the fire burning. Knowing that they would freeze the more during the night if they kept the cloaks on during the days too. It simply was the same effect as if wearing a travelling cloak during winter inside.

So Potter only wore his shirt, as all of them did, and he easily could see the blood soaking through the area where his shoulder blades were and he sighed. As it seemed the rough stone wall had scraped Potter's skin over the shoulder blades as there was nothing on the boy's bones that would have dampened the impact.

"Into my office, Mr. Potter." He said, shoving the boy into the direction he wanted him in. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, you two please see that such a display is not repeated while I am gone with Mr. Potter. If something happens, then however do not hesitate to get me." He turned back towards Potter who still stood frozen to the spot.

"The office, Mr. Potter!" He commanded and again shoved the teenager forwards. "Now!"