While Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone to the headmaster’s office, most of the students, teachers, family-members and everyone who had come to Hogwarts to partake in the great battle against the Dark Lord were recovering from it in the Great Hall. There was a mix of cheerfulness, solemnity, exhaustion, and sorrow lying in the air as they shared food and drink. The laughter and chatter was thick with relief about being alive, yet generated by the pain and horror of the last hours. The bodies of the dead had been placed in adjacent chambers. There were so many, that it was not yet clear, who of the numerous courageous fighters having opposed Voldemort, were lost.

     It was Poppy Pomfrey, who decided to take charge of the naming of the dead. Hagrid carefully shifted the bodies into decent positions lined up neatly side by side. He covered each of them with a blanket and a solemn look on his face and named their identity to the school nurse. With the use of an enchanted white fluffy quill, which soared after Poppy to scribble down each name on a piece of parchment, she created a list of all the innocent souls lost and those who had perished brave heroes. There would be a memorial service in the afternoon, to reflect on the terrible events in silence and remember all those who lost their lives by reading out their names. Hagrid was sniffling in his tablecloth-sized handkerchief as he covered up body after body. Two hours later a complete list of names was finished in the shape of a fancy looking scroll, kept from unravelling by magic of Pomfrey’s wand. She sighed. Her usually stern, resolute though friendly demeanour seemed cheerless and gloomy.

     “So many deaths, Hagrid. I still cannot believe it,” Madam Pomfrey sighed and stood there in the middle of the chamber surrounded by the silence and stillness of the loss. Hagrid nodded in agreement mopping his eyes with his enormous handkerchief.

     “Tonks and Lupin,” Pomfrey shook her head in disbelief. “Whatever will become of their son?” Then, as if she suddenly remembered something else, her chin jerked up and her eyes widened. “Snape! I forgot to put down Severus’…” Poppy swallowed. “…name on the memorial list.”

     “But ‘is body ain’t in ‘ere,” Hagrid said unintentionally mimicking a loud trumpet as he blew his nose.

     “What? But I distinctly heard Harry Potter telling Minerva, that Severus was killed by…” it seemed strange not to have to use the reference of ‘You-Know-Who’ to identify Voldemort anymore. “Where did the boy say it happened?” Madam Pomfrey squeezed her pointed chin with her fingers while she tried to retrieve the words she had heard Harry say. He told Professor McGonagall everything, which occurred in respect to Severus Snape, how he had been acting on Dumbledore’s orders all along, including the killing of the late headmaster himself, that he had been loyal and in fact, as it now appeared that Severus Snape had truly died a hero’s death. She remembered the pallid, introvert boy that Snape had been during his school years. She had always seen something in the boy despite the gloom and Snape’s fascinating for the Dark Arts. She had noticed some sort of pain and bitterness in the boy, an unhappy childhood most likely. She often came across such family trials in the long years of her chosen profession as school nurse. When Dumbledore was killed, she had always had reservations to believe Snape to be his murderer in cold blood. Pomfrey, like most of the other teachers had been aware of the trust Dumbledore had conferred on the man, despite his oddity and rudeness. Therefore, the heroic revelations about Snape’s deeds had not surprised her too much, but made her mourn his death just the more. In her opinion, this wizard’s tale deserved to be told, his image put right, and justified glory and honours to be bestowed on him in the presence of all. She distinctly remembered Minerva having mumbled something alike during Harry’s account of what he had witnessed. For so long they had all been incredibly wrong about the unhappy man.

     “Hagrid, we have to look for his body!” Poppy was a little worried. What if the run-away Death-Eaters took his body and mutilated it in the frenzy and desperation of a lost cause? This must not happen. However, she squeezed her brain with thoughts to remember this detail of location where Snape had fallen at the hand of Voldemort. She could not remember whether it had been mentioned at all. Dropping the hand, which absent-mindedly pinched and mangled her chin, she gestured to Hagrid.

     “Hagrid, come with me, please. I might need your help. We will go and see Minerva immediately and look for… Severus’… remains.”

     Together they hurried off along the corridor back to the Great Hall. The heavy weight that had been Voldemort’s reign seemed to have dropped off everyone’s shoulders, and despite the shock of the previous night’s events, everyone still seemed to feel jubilant over this newfound freedom. Poppy asked Hagrid to wait at the door as not to attract any unwanted attention. It took a moment of focused exploration before she spotted Professor McGonagall, who was just offering support to Mrs. Weasley and Ginny over their loss of a son and brother. Madam Pomfrey hastened towards them, the hem of her dress sweeping the floor as she squeezed past people who were sitting tightly packed at the tables. When McGonagall noticed her, Poppy asked if she could have a quick word in private. Pulling her a little away from the table so as not to be overheard, she put forth her question to the headmistress in a hushed tone of voice. Professor McGonagall’s brows jumped up in surprise.

     “His body was not…”

     “No…”

     Minerva was silent for a moment to recall the information Harry had given her. The boy had been stumbling over his own words in order to tell everything he had seen in the Pensieve in the fastest way possible, the truth about Severus Snape. McGonagall agreed with the school nurse, that there should be a special service held for him and that his body should be put to rest next to Dumbledore’s. However first, they needed to find his body.

     “Ah! The Shack!” Minerva’s index finger thrust into the air as she remembered Harry telling her, how he, Ron and Hermione had followed a hunch about a horcrux to the shack.

     “The Shrieking Shack,” She repeated a little quieter. “I will come with you.”

     “I already asked Hagrid to help, should you not rather stay to see to everyone? You are head of Hogwarts after all.”

     “Yes, you are quite right, of course. But let me know the outcome of your search the instance you return.”

     “But of course.”

Madam Pomfrey turned on her heel and marched swiftly out of the Great Hall where Hagrid was still waiting. She did not stop to talk to him but scurried off and out of the castle motioning for him to follow. Once outside, she took Hagrid into her confidence.

     “He should be at the Shrieking Shack, Hagrid. The Whomping Willow, the entrance,” She partially mumbled to herself following her own train of thoughts. “And here I thought the passage had been closed off years ago.” She said sternly but with a twinkle in her eyes.

     A short while passed until they reached the Whomping Willow. It was something glistening in the grass, touched by sunlight that caught Madam Pomfrey’s eye. She stopped a few feet away from the tree and peered down on a patch of weeds.

       “What is this?” she said at the same moment her hand extended to brush aside a leafy plant on the ground to recover a small glass flask. There was no lid or stopper on it; it appeared to be empty. Poppy held it into the light and noticed a trace of unusual lilac coloured liquid, which once were its contents. She held the flask under her nose and smelled it. It was nothing she could place though the pungent smell reminded her of something. She pulled out her wand to flick a spell at the flask. However, the mixture would not reveal itself to her. Someone had taken great care to keep the recipe a secret.

     “I shall take this along with me, Hagrid. Maybe I can have it analysed at St.  Mungo’s. If it has to do with the death of…” she broke off her sentence and motioned to Hagrid to move on to do what they came here to do. Poppy knew how to make the angry tree go limp and skilfully used her wand to do it. Hagrid though, was much too large to fit into the entrance.

     “I’m afraid you will have to wait here, Hagrid. I think I shall manage to bring the body back by myself. I will feel much saver though, knowing that you are standing guard, till I return.” She smiled and slipped into the narrow hole. The passage seemed smaller and lower than she remembered it. Poppy could hardly recall the last time she had seen it from the inside, not to talk about the Shack itself. She had been much younger then, long before rumours of hauntings circled the school and village. After what seemed like a long time, Poppy reached the staircase that led up into the old building. The place was covered in thick dust, showed broken planks in the stairs and floor and betrayed creaking hinges of doors. She had to be careful and watch her step. “Lumos!” she held out her wand to lighten a room on the ground floor. The windows, boarded off ever since she could remember, let in only little light through the cracks. The ground floor seemed untouched, the eternal dust undisturbed. Madam Pomfrey advanced up to the next floor. She proceeded to the first room in view and stopped stark at the threshold of it. There he was, lying flat on his back; his head had fallen to the side half covered with long strands of his matted black hair. Snape’s eyes were half-open. She instantly noticed the wound on his neck, because it was smudged in a reddish purple colour, and where the blood had dried, it turned a dirty blue. She spread her fingers and pressed them unconsciously against her chest in shock of this sight. It was so still. He was so still. Madam Pomfrey approached and knelt down next to the body. His face was even paler now than usual, his lips slightly parted as if he had wanted to say something before life was smothered within his now frail body. Poppy could not help dabbing her fingertips at a tear rolling down her cheek. He was definitely dead. There was no breath moving his chest. No pulse she could trace on his wrist or neck. Poppy got up again after a quick look at the wound, part of which was turning a deep blue and black as she gazed at it. It did not look natural and she guessed that dark magic was involved. She extended her wand and pointed it at Snape. With a skilled levitation spell she managed to move Snape’s body which slowly rose to hover a few inches off the floor. Being the school nurse she was used to moving patients this way, especially those who were unconscious or immobile. Slowly she directed the body to follow her back down the stairs. It was not easy to manoeuvre it through the narrow passage, she had to go very slow to stop it bouncing against the walls. Eventually she reappeared at the other side of the passage. Hagrid moved aside and stared sorrowfully down at Snape’s body while Madam Pomfrey freed Snape’s frock, which had latched on to a rough splinter sticking out from the trunk.

     “Hagrid, don’t stand there sobbing, help me.”

    The gentle giant moved instantly, bent down, and reached for Snape’s body to scoop it up onto his arms. He sighed. It was twice in a short space of time that he was carrying a dead body back to the castle. In the former case, not long ago, it had taken a lucky turn. Hagrid did not expect luck to strike twice a night, or day. In total silence, two figures slowly approached the castle, which now seemed bathed in a golden halo created by the sun as if Merlin had held a healing hand over it. Suddenly Hagrid jerked, startled by something.

     “What is the matter, Hagrid? You gave me a scare!”

     “Don’ know, Poppy, oi thought, tha’… no,  couldn’ be, wishful thinkin’, tha’s wha’ it be.” Hagrid pulled a feeble smile as he looked sideways at the school nurse, but jerked yet again so greatly, that he nearly dropped Snape’s body.

     “Goodness me! Hagrid! Calm down. I know this is … no fun party we…”

    A slight groan nearly made her shriek out aloud had her hand not muffled it just in time. The groan had come from Snape’s body. Hagrid’s arms started to tremble as he stared down into Snape’s face. His eyes enlarged when he noticed Snape’s lips move. Madam Poppy seemed to have spotted it too because she pressed both palms over her mouth and nose. Another groan emitted from Snape’s mouth and then his eyelids twitched. Hagrid was on the verge of fainting. Poppy gaped under her palms before she was able to form any audible words.

     “Is it possible? Is he… alive?” Madam Pomfrey blinked in disbelief.

     Snape suddenly managed to open his eyes. Hagrid nearly dropped him in terror. This just wasn’t possible. Snape tried to mumble something unintelligible. It was impossible to understand what he was trying to say. At this sign of life, the school nurse instinctively fell back into her usual conduct as a healer. Her hand extended to feel Snape’s wrist for a pulse and the look she gave Hagrid told him clearly that she had found something. She instantly carried on examining his neck for a pulse just to be sure. It was all there and more: she had the infallible impression, that his skin was coming alive with the warmth of life. Snape’s lips were as dry as paper. He seemed to be able to recognize his companions but he did not manage to produce anything other than a moan.

     “I don’t know what is going on, Hagrid, but he is alive! He is alive! Hurry, let’s bring him to the infirmary, quickly!” Poppy’s voice seemed exhilarated and urgent at the same time.

Nobody took notice as they quietly entered the castle and hastened up the staircase towards the hospital wing. Voices were coming from the Great Hall as if someone made a speech or announcement, greeted by enthusiastic cheers. For now, the little group did not pay any attention to it but followed the passage into the school ward.

     A few minutes later, Snape was lying in bed with Hagrid and the school nurse flanking it on either side staring down at him.

     “Severus, can you hear me? I mean, can you understand what I am saying?” she was not sure if he was truly conscious. He had been dead, as strange as it seemed, impossible to fathom mentally. After all, she had verified the absence of signs of life when she first found him. There had not been a pulse before. Of this, she was very sure.

    Snape’s eyes slowly opened a little. He seemed to require a lot of strength to do it. His lids were half-closed and he appeared still drowsy. His lips parted to voice something resembling a ‘yes’, he tried to nod which was only visible to Poppy’s trained eyes in such matters.

     “That is good, Severus. So listen, there is very little I can do for you at this moment because I do not know what happened.”

     Snape’s lids twitched. Poppy suddenly had an idea. The flask! Had it been Voldemort’s flask or owned by Snape? Was not Snape after all, the best potion master Hogwarts ever had? She reached into her skirt pocket and retrieved it. Thrusting it right into Snape’s face with the thrill of a hunch, her brows rose in expectation.

     “Severus! Do you know this flask? I found it near the Whomping Willow. Is it yours?”

Snape grunted and his eyelids fluttered to indicate agreement.

     “I knew it. Its contents, Severus, did you apply it on yourself or…”

Snape had groaned again trying to speak, slightly nodding his head.

     “A potion! For yourself, to… facilitate… to aid… or as precaution?!” her eyes widened so much, they seemed on the verge of popping out of their sockets.

     Snape grunted a hint of a yes.

     “Splendid!” Poppy exclaimed joyfully and turned to look at Hagrid. “He will pull through, Hagrid. We all know the expertise of our potion master and his genius of brewing phenomenal mixtures. I cannot apply extra healing, because I do not know the components of this potion. Nevertheless, he will make it. I totally trust in his extraordinary abilities.”

     Poppy smiled broadly down on Snape, like on a child who had come round from a feverish fit in need of encouragement that he would live.

     “I shall get you a cup of herbal tea immediately. A tea always does a Merlin’s deal of good.”

     While Madam Pomfrey fulfilled her self-assigned chore, she sent Hagrid down to the Great Hall to let Professor McGonagall know about the unexpected developments of their little quest. The headmistress did not instantly comprehend what Hagrid was saying. Before she decided to make a general announcement to all those still seated at the tables, she appeared on the ward to see for herself. It was incredible, but her own eyes would not betray her: Snape stretched out in a bed, his eyes half-open, his upper body propped up with the help of a fluffy pillow into a sitting position. Poppy was holding a cup of tea to his dry lips to help him drink.

   The bright new morning had turned to evening when Professor McGonagall made the announcement to a suddenly silent crowd. Everyone seemed in doubt at the news. Most of those present had witnessed Harry’s apparent death and miraculous return to the world of the living in the early morning hours of the day and for a similar incident to repeat itself just seemed impossible for those who grieved. Nevertheless, there was hope in their eyes. The day ceased earlier than usual due to general physical exhaustion. Madam Pomfrey had seen to all the wounded and treated them as could be expected under the circumstances. After all the tables had vanished with a sharp skilful swish of McGonagall’s wand, extra beds appeared now filling the Great Hall. Never had the school of Hogwarts seen so many visitors spending the night together, side by side. The spacious school suddenly appeared small and cramped. However, everyone managed to settle down for the night and this time, the silence that eventually settled over the school was peaceful and harmonious.

      Two days later the dead were buried and a special memorial service held for them. By the end of the week, things at Hogwarts slowly settled down again to the way they used to be. Snape had recovered enough to get up and partake at lunch, still weak and shaky but his unmistakable self. Once his voice had returned, he could no longer evade Madam Pomfrey’s many questions, especially concerning the potion. Snape finally gave in to tell her about it. He had given it the name Servatio sucus, a rescue potion. Not able to be sure about his own safety in the presence of Voldemort, Snape had decided to concoct the potion as a necessary precaution, the ingredients of which he chose not to disclose. The content of his discussion with Dumbledore about confronting the Dark Lord had also supported his decision. Severus was not sure if Voldemort would trust him long enough for Harry to do what he had to do. The Servatio Sucus somewhat resembled the protego-spell in form of a potion. How successful it would be he had not known. The Dark Lord’s magic was strong and more powerful than the magic of many great wizards. He had to strive to survive. Luck was on his side in the shape of Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, who was ordered to kill him. Although her bite was highly poisonous with Dark Magic that would kill, Servatio sucus was able to interfere with the arrival of death. It put Snape’s body into a death-like state, temporarily forcing his spirit to leave his physical form until the potion had been able to react with the poison and infected cells within his body and very slowly but successfully devoured it. This saved his life. Snape’s own outstanding intelligence and incomparable ability to create new spells and potions had proved itself once again.

      Professor McGonagall declared him the new teacher of DADA at Hogwarts. Snape had finally reached his long sought for goal: to teach DADA here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft which had become home to him. Only relevant parts of Snape’s story concerning his loyalty to the late headmaster Albus Dumbledore were revealed to students and teachers to clear his name and eliminate doubts. Furthermore, he was named the successor of Minerva McGonagall to be headmaster of Hogwarts when the time came. Finally yet importantly, he was awarded the Order of Merlin, 1^st class. A first page article in The Daily Prophet soon competed with first hand information The Quibbler had been printing a day earlier from a trusted source on ‘location’. At last, Severus Snape was granted the glory and honour he had longed for all his life and as was disclosed, deservedly.

 Fin