After a light lunch, that Harry had only picked at, the small group had walked out of the Dungeons and joined the excited throngs heading out towards the forest. Spirits were high as the students were anticipating what awaited the champions. The crisp, late autumn weather kept everyone moving quickly while rosy cheeks, laughs, excited twittering giggles and good natured debates punctuated the air.  As was proven during Harry’s first year, secrets – such as the challenge task – did not remain secrets very long in Hogwarts. Only the densest of pupils were unaware as to what the challenge was; it was a bit hard to hide four massive dragons. But since it was an open secret, everyone talked about it in hushed tones when around the staff. But today, even the Weasley twins were openly taking bets on the four’s prospects.

Harry walked as if in a daze, barely acknowledging greetings – or slurs – from his classmates and blindly following along behind his brother and father. His snake was wrapped around his neck like a jewelled necklace, sparkling in the afternoon sun, having just recently shed her old skin. She hissed warnings at any unfriendly that got too close for her comfort, her hood flaring dramatically and calming down only when Harry stroked her triangular head.

McGonagall met them as they came near the enclosure, leading Harry off to a tent that housed the Champions, the officials and Madame Pomfrey, until she was needed. Harry had looked at his father once before turning away to follow his Head of House, and saw the worry in the man’s eyes. He gave Severus a smile to show he could face his fears, but he knew – and he knew his father knew – his heart wasn’t entirely in it. He was terrified, to put it bluntly – despite all the training. When he entered, Harry saw the other three students pacing around the tent, bleeding off their own nerves. Cedric had given him a nod of recognition, but the other two were too far gone to register Harry’s entrance.

But Crouch and Ludo Bagman had, and it seemed that his arrival was the signal they needed to get everything started.

“Champions, gather ‘round, if you please!” commanded Mr Bagman as he walked to the centre of the tents open area.

Harry joined the others in a loose circle, with the various headmasters in an outside ring near each of their students. Harry shared a look with Cedric, both of them swallowing convulsively, and Harry could feel sweat break out on his upper lip.

“Very good,” Bagman nodded. “Now, Mr Crouch has a bag here with a representation of what you will be facing in the arena. There is one for each of you – so don’t worry. There are numbers on the figurines which designate the order you will go in – all right? Good... oh, one more thing: once you get into the enclosure, your task will be to obtain the ‘Golden Egg’. Understood? Excellent!” He ushered Mr Crouch into the circle with a bag that writhed and gambolled in his hands.

The Ministry official approached Fleur Delacour first, offering her the now-opened, steaming bag. “Ladies first, Miss Delacour.”

Fleur hesitated a moment before plunging her hand down into the bag, giving a little gasp as she pulled out a small green figurine of a dragon with a number one on its tag. She sighed in resignation and backed away a few steps, cradling her figurine in her hand and running a finger down its long neck to calm it, a quiet cooing sound coming from her lips.

Krum was next, pulling the Norwegian Ridgeback figurine with the number three on its tag. He too seemed stoic, letting the little figurine fly up to sit on his shoulder, defying all who approached and spitting little puffs of fire. The two were definitely a match. Cedric was next in line and Harry almost knew the older boy would pull the Chinese Fireball – so he wasn’t surprised when that happened.

Dumbledore just patted the Hufflepuff on the shoulder as Cedric turned away to begin pacing again.

“That leaves you Mr Potter-Snape; reach in!” the official commanded. Harry took a deep breath before he let his fingers disappear into the bag and grasp the prickly figurine that was the only one left in the velvet bag, gingerly drawing it out.

“Excellent! The Hungarian Horntail, a worthy opponent! I wish you luck!” Harry just stared down at the tiny dragon that paced around his hand, breathing fire and swishing its tail agitatedly to and fro. Periodically, it would shake its head and cause the little medallion with the number four etched onto it to swing madly, jingling on its chain. He wondered, because his mind could not concentrate on anything else at the moment, how long the animation charm would last. Ron’s Quidditch figurine of Krum still twitched every now and then...

A loud blast from outside the tent froze everyone in their place. That was the signal that the tournament was about to begin. Dumbledore hustled all the officials and headmasters out the tent flap, leaving just the champions and Madame Pomfrey in the tent.

Soon, two more blasts signalled the beginning and Mr Bagman could be heard explaining the rules to the audience who had ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ quite appropriately as the Welsh Green and its nest of eggs were revealed.

Squaring her shoulders and reaching up to tighten her pony-tail, Fleur marched out of the tent and entered the enclosure to a rousing cheer from the crowd.

The remaining males stood still as they listened to the play-by-play.

“Ah, yes, excellent use of a transfiguration charm.” They could hear a dog barking in the background, presumably leading the dragon on a merry chase away from the nest. “Oh, close one there – very good, watch that tail young lady! Excellent! Oi, that’s going to hurt! And... yes! She has the golden egg – oh, well done; well done, indeed!” They could hear the dragon roaring in the background as she realised the loss of a pseudo-child.

Defilers! Cheats! How dare you... Harry could hear the mother dragon protesting, Silicia hissing in sympathy against his neck.

“Make way for the handlers, thank you! Now if the judges will tally up their marks – thank you. Well done, for our first contestant. Too bad about that burn, but she should recover quickly. Could the Healer make her way to the healer tent? Now for a short break as we get our next dragon ready, the Chinese Fireball. If Mr Diggory will prepare himself...”

As Madame Pomfrey hurried out of the Champions’ tent with a basket of supplies on her arm and mumbling under her breath about idiotic men and pitting children against grown man-eating beasts, Harry turned to the older boy. “Good luck, Cedric! Merlin be with you!”

Diggory looked concerned as he eyed his younger school mate. “Harry, I’m worried – are you sure you’re going to be able to handle the Horntail? They are the meanest of all the dragons – we could switch...” he offered, kindly.

Harry was grateful that the older boy had offered, but he hadn’t forced the hat to sort him into Gryffindor as a lark. “I’m not sure, but I’ll do my best – as I’m sure you will do. Thanks for the offer, but we’ll stick to the luck of the draw. Just – no heroics, alright? It’s just the first task – get in, get the egg, get out. Simple.” Harry grinned with false bravado.

Cedric grinned back. “Whatever you say, Snape; but the same goes for you, too!”

“Deal.” Harry gave the older boy a shove between the shoulder blades to get him moving, and Cedric touched his figurine with his wand, stilling the little dragon, and shoved it into a pocket before exiting the pavilion.

It seemed only seconds later – or maybe an eternity – when Bagman was announcing the judges to show Cedric’s scores and Cedric was cheered mightily as he left the enclosure to have his wounds tended to.

A roar went up outside as the announcer yelled at the handlers to keep the two last dragons under control before finally calling for Victor Krum to enter the field.

Harry nodded at his competitor in a good luck manoeuvre, receiving one in return before returning to his pacing. Silicia wisely kept silent, listening to the commotions and commentary outside instead.

****

Severus was a bundle of nerves under his cool demeanour, seated in the family section of the bleachers. The ward and shield charms to keep the spectators safe from the draconic beasts caused a shimmering effect to the air. He gritted his teeth as he watched the French girl emerge onto the field, assess the situation quickly and transfigure a rock into yappy little kick-em dog that worried at the Welsh Green’s toes. It led the mother away from her rock nest, swinging her tail agitatedly to and fro, attempting to bite the small mongrel.

While diverted, the Beauxbaton champion darted around her dragon to make a quick attempt at the shiny gold egg sitting amongst the pile of hard, leathery dragon ovules. She had to watch out for the swishing tail though and had to jump it, only to tumble onto the fire-heated stones. A scream rent the air as she seared her hands, but she growled, pushing herself off the rocks and making another lunge for the prize, jerking it off its pedestal and causing it to roll down the far side of the nest.

She scrambled after it, nearly getting singed for her efforts as the Welsh Green discovered that the dog was an illusion and had turned around to see the human girl attacking her nest! She sent out a jet of fire only to miss as the teen toppled down the outer edge of the nest, gold egg tucked tightly in her arms.

A rousing cheer accompanied her triumph and the handlers rushed in to placate the irate wyrm. Draco touched his arm to get his attention as he let out a relieved sigh.

“Dad, look at Weasley,” Draco prompted, nodding towards an area across from them.

Severus looked across to the primarily Gryffindor section of the stands and spotted the red-head immediately. He had a stunned look on his face and had sat down on the bench while all around him were standing and cheering.

“Looks like someone has had an epiphany,” he noted wryly to Molly who turned and harrumphed at the sight. He was going to say more, but the next dragon was being led in and it was Diggory’s turn, capturing their attention once more.

As dragons and Champions made their way through the arena, Severus noticed a trend. The Dragon’s were getting meaner as the tournament progressed. Thanks to Molly, he knew the last two were some of the meanest dragons on earth – doubly so as they were brooding females. And he had a sneaking suspicion as to which one Harry would end up battling. He could only hope he and Moody had taught the boy enough to survive.

Dragons, as a rule, did not clutch often – maybe once or twice in a century. Their eggs were rare, and their progeny were precious in the eyes of the parents who kept watch over them for several years until they reached their adult size. So, the parents – especially the mothers – were naturally protective of their eggs which were prized for all sorts of delicacies from fine cuisine to potions ingredients to armour.

So, Severus knew what Dragon his son had pulled the moment Krum entered the arena to face the Ridgeback. Draco also stiffened beside him as he realised his brother was last in the draw and watched with horror as Krum, arguably the worlds fastest and most agile of men on a broom, was hindered by his own pigeon-toed feet in his bid to obtain his own egg.

The Conjunctivitis Curse made its target, but the dragon was so incensed that it went on a rampage, being unable to see where it was going and mistakenly stepping onto its own nest, smashing to bits half of its eggs.

A groan rose from the spectators at the carnage, and Severus half-wished he could get down there and harvest the ingredients immediately, his fingers itching to get possession of the gooey, scrambled mess that dripped down the steaming rocks.

Draco’s hand convulsed on his arm as he eyed the golden egg arcing through the air and Krum making a mad dash over the rocky ground to capture it in his outstretched hands. The man was a born seeker, no mistake, and he made the catch easily – but no one gave him any points for grace as he tripped over his own feet afterwards, falling at the medi-wizards feet. They hauled him and his prize up and into the healer tent where his minor burns and scrapes were attended to as Charlie Weasley and his team of handlers hurried out to clean up the mess in the arena.

The judges took their time deliberating while Charlie bagged the broken eggs, floating it over to Severus who nodded his thanks, tucking the large dragon-hide bag under his seat amid much laughter from many of the students. It was a much needed lighter moment amidst the drama and suspense of the afternoon. Draco just snickered into his hand, totally unable to keep his comments to himself. Severus allowed himself a small smirk as he looked over at his giggling son.

“That’s enough, Dragon, your brother is about ready to come out,” he finally chided.

That comment wiped the smirk off of Draco’s face, and he settled down as he watched the worst dragon be led into the arena where she could protect her nest of eggs that had just been Apparated in the centre of the grounds, with one addition golden occupant. She prowled around the nest, breathing fire over the precious cargo – turning each one this way and that as she bathed it in life giving heat.

She grumbled and hissed to herself, hunched over the rocks, and everyone took in a gasp of air as Harry entered the arena, a determined look on his face, wand at the ready and Silicia curled around his neck, but rising behind his head – hood flared and scales sparkling in the late afternoon sun, red tongue darting in and out. It was a dramatic enough sight that even the Slytherin and Hufflepuffs were impressed by the display, forcing them to rethink Harry’s abilities.

The dragon finally noticed the intruder in her space, and froze before pacing over to the piece of meat that had just walked into her lair, jaws open wide to devour the welcome snack. But her jaws snapped shut when she heard it speak.

Greetings, Great Mother... it said, bowing to her, but never letting its eyes leave hers. She grumbled in response, letting a bit of flame escape from between her teeth. But she did not move forward, and Harry stood his ground, never lowering his gaze. To do so would have been tantamount to admitting defeat.

You are a speaker, Meat, she replied, impressed. It has been a long time since we have heard a speaker. Too bad you must be eaten, she said with a touch of cold regret.

And why must I be eaten? Harry asked. I can help you, he offered.

Help? How can you, a snack at that, help me? She laughed, which Harry understood, but the rest of the arena only heard grumbling and growling followed by a jet of fire which was not aimed at Harry, but rather straight up in the air, as if in a challenge. The sound rocked the arena and the audience, as one, were holding their collective breath, wondering what was going on. Someone close to the action could hear Harry hissing and remembered he was a Parselmouth – the news spreading like wildfire through the viewing stands.

Ron had turned white, watching the drama, and had a steel hold on Hermione’s hand. She winced in pain, but didn’t attempt to remove it – she was beyond noticing it, maintaining all her attention on her best friend who was trying to reason with the most god-awful beast.

Severus, too, was worried. This was something he hadn’t anticipated – that Harry could talk to the dragons using Parseltongue. He glanced over at the judges’ booth and eyed the Headmaster who was watching the match with that damn twinkle in his eye. The man was sitting there cool as a cucumber – not a single worry touching his face. This just served to fuel Snape’s anger at the situation and he had to break his gaze before the old man could feel the heat of it. Moody was mumbling to himself behind Severus. He couldn’t tell if it was imprecations or strategies.

I see a strange egg has invaded your nest. Harry noted. I could relieve you of that and depart forever – never to bother you again. Really, I don’t even make a good snack, I’m too small and stringy – no substance on these bones whatsoever, he countered, pulling at his clothes to show that he was just a meagre morsel for such a great dragon.

The dragon laughed again while the arena gasped. She began to pace around the strange, small figure – her paws and claws ripping and tearing at the earth, clods and small boulders being thrown against the protective wards and exploding. And you, little sister, why are you with this snack – who-is-not-a-snack? she addressed Silicia, who sinuously followed her greater cousin’s movements, never losing track of where the great one’s head was in relation to her and her human.

Silicia rose, her back straight, as her hood flared again in challenge and she stared her large relation in the face. He is my friend who cares for me and feeds me so that I can become as magnificent as my parents.

The Dragon seemed to contemplate this as she made another round. She made a quick decision, heading back to the nest and plucking the gold egg out, tossing it in the air, then batting it towards Harry with a flick of her spike covered tail. If you catch it, it is yours – do with it as you like. She roared her frustrations then, letting loose with a tremendous jet of fire that she bathed the wards with – blocking everyone’s view of the field as the last view they had was Harry leaping for the flying object. When the wards had finished flaring, there stood Harry holding his egg aloft, Silicia hissing in approval and the Horntail – supposedly the world’s fiercest mother dragon – was sitting on her nest, claws and tail wrapped around the eggs protectively, head laid over the top of it all, as if nothing was wrong.

The audience was stunned for a moment before the entire school broke out in cheers, tooting their horns and noise makers while the handlers headed out to transfer the dragon back to her reserve. Harry was led to the healers tent to have a look-over while the judges deliberated.

Severus, Draco and the Elder Weasley’s headed down to the field hospital to congratulate Harry stopping only once while his score was read. He was tied with Diggory for first place.

Thus it was a happy group that entered the tent and crowded around his bed where he sat, grinning like a loon with the egg safely cocooned in his lap.

“Dad!” he cried as he spotted his family and he brushed away Poppy’s hand with a quick “I’m fine!” before jumping up and hugging his father.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked, sending the same question over to Poppy with a look.

“He’s fine, Severus, not a mark on him. That was a wonderful solution to the problem, Harry!” she said, packing up her basket now that it wasn’t needed. She patted Harry on the back then left the little area passing Ron and Hermione on her way out the tent door.

Harry was being passed around the circle and hugged until he heard a discrete cough behind him. He turned around to see Hermione with Ron trying and failing to hide behind her.

“Hermione,” he said, giving her a quick hug.

“God, Harry, I don’t think I breathed until I saw you had the egg! What did you do? It looked like you just stood there!”

“I just talked to her, Hermione. Gave her loads of respect and asked politely if I could have the egg. That’s all. Well, I did have a bit of help from Silicia.” He reached up to stroke his pet who had resumed her necklace pose, her head resting near his right ear which she tickled with her forked tongue as she hissed in pleasure.

“That’s all, he says!” mumbled Ron. “Blimey, Harry, I thought you were a goner!” he exclaimed. Hermione reached behind her and dragged her reluctant friend forward while Snape motioned for everyone to partake of the refreshment table while giving the two friends room to repair their friendship.

Ron was coloured red to his roots, but he was a Gryffindor and knew when to admit he had been wrong. He stuck his hand out and Harry gladly took it. “Look, Harry, I was being a prat – and by the time I realised it, I thought it was too late. I’m really sorry I doubted you, mate. Can you ever forgive me? It’s just me and this jealous streak...”

“Ron, don’t ever admit that to my father. The last time someone said that about being jealous of my life he made them go into a pensieve and relive my early formative years with the dearly departed Dursleys,” Harry darkly warned.

Ron shuddered in horror as Harry nodded. “I’ll remember that. Can you forgive me?”

Harry cocked his head a bit, raising his eyebrow in a typical Snape manner, making his friend sweat in worry until he nodded. “Yeah, Ron, I forgive you.”

Ron sighed in relief. “Bloody hell, Harry, someone seriously has it in for you, putting your name in the cup then giving you the meanest dragon...” Ron sputtered, now incensed on his friend’s behalf.

“Figured it out, have you?” Harry said wryly.

Ron shuffled his feet in the dirt floor. “Yeah, I did. So what’s the egg for?” he asked, curious about the golden, glittery object.

Harry shrugged as Dumbledore walked past them.

“A very good question, Mr Weasley. Champions gather round me please! Thank you!”

Harry and the other three gathered in a loose circle around the august Headmaster, each holding their special egg.

“Now, children, each of these eggs holds a clue to the next task which will take place on Valentine’s day prior to the Hogsmeade visit. As the task will only take an hour to complete, you will have more than enough time to join your classmates in the village. You have until then to figure out the clue – if you do, it will help you tremendously in completing the second task.” He beamed his smile around all of them. “Now off you go, I’m sure there will be many parties tonight!”

Harry sighed as he returned to his little support group.

“Well, that’s that.” He looked up at his father. “Thanks, Dad, for all your help – I know I didn’t use any of it, really, but it was good to be prepared.”

“That was the idea, Son. I admit you had an ingenious solution to the problem. What made you think to bring Silicia along?”

Harry coloured at this, guilt still tugging – despite the entire school knowing, thanks to the grapevine – what the task was. Still, he had known two weeks ago. “Ummm, just a hunch?”

Severus sighed. “Harry...” He pulled the boy away from the group and walked him back over to the bed he had occupied, closing the curtains and waving up a privacy shield so no one else could hear their conversation. “Alright, spill it,” he demanded, sitting on the hospital cot with his son standing in front of him.

Harry gulped. “Well, it’s not like everyone didn’t know by today – but I’ve known for two weeks what the task was – all the champions did,” he admitted. “I couldn’t tell you... but I did let Diggory know – the rest of us knew, so it was only fair that he was warned,” he offered as reasoning.

“I see. And who, pray tell, told you?”

“Dad, I don’t grass... They knew that the foreign champions knew, so they showed me,” his son explained.

Severus stood up to pace a bit, stroking his chin reflectively as he stared at the boy – who was rapidly approaching the point where he would be looking him in the eye. “I see. Two weeks, you say. I seem to remember you going to Hagrid’s two weeks ago...” he opined, raising an eyebrow in question.

Harry wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “Dad, don’t push please. It is dead hard to keep a secret in this place – unless you Spell it so. There was no harm done – he was only evening out the playing field, so to say.”

Severus agreed, although he didn’t like it. “This is to be on your own merit, Harry – using your own wits,” he reminded his son.

“Then you and Professor Moody shouldn’t be training me – if you follow that piece of argument to its logical end. But, I am at a disadvantage and you are only attempting to level the field for me, are you not?”

“We are, and I will admit we hadn’t anticipated that Dragons speak Parseltongue, that was your own solution,” he agreed.

“Well, I will admit it was a long shot. I had heard them conversing when I first saw them. It was hard to understand at first – like listening to Middle English – but once I concentrated, I could understand what they were saying. So, bringing Silicia along was a hunch I might be able to speak to them and reason with whichever Dragon I got assigned. I was prepared though if it didn’t work.”

“Oh, and what would you have done?” the pater asked, curious as to what option two had been.

“Well, Professor Moody always tells me to ‘Play to my strengths’. I figured that since my one major strength – besides being a Parselmouth – was my ability on my broom, I was going to Accio it from the tower – where it is sitting in my window – and fly around her, distracting her until I could dive in and grab the egg.” He grinned up at his father, the thrill of the imagined scenario written all over his face, the excitement shining from his eyes.

“Well, as that manoeuvre would have definitely given me heart failure, much less turned my hair prematurely white in sheer fright, I am thankful for the solution you devised. Mind you, the minute I saw that beast enter the arena – I nearly had an attack right then! Merlin, boy...” He suddenly grabbed Harry and gathered him tightly in his arms, and Harry revelled in the feeling of security and love that radiated from the elder Snape, squeezing back tightly as well and burying his face in the robes that always smelled like home.

After a few moments they reluctantly parted and Severus cancelled the shield so that they could rejoin their group. Harry went over to the banquet table and took a plate, loading it up with all sorts of goodies – little miniature pasties, bite size sandwiches, crisp veggies and several varieties of biscuits, rolls, cheeses and sliced meats. He soon was standing next to Ron, who had a loaded plate as well – mostly chocolate biscuits and pasties.

“So, Ron, about this ball in a few weeks...”

Ron whipped his head around. “Tell me you don’t have a date either!” he pleaded, eyes begging.

Harry shook his head. “Nope – I’m hopeless. Everyone I wanted to take is already spoken for...”

“I know,” his friend groaned sympathetically. Harry sighed as well.

“What are we going to do?” they asked each other simultaneously then broke up laughing.