The laughing, cheering teens tumbled into the tiny-appearing tent, the ginger-heads linking arms and dancing jigs around the centre pole as their father beamed good-naturedly at them and headed for the ancient pot-bellied stove in the corner to start some water heating for tea. Using the cast iron hook, he opened the door to the black beast to feed it some of the sticks of wood that lay nearby, causing the flames to flare up merrily, joining in the festive atmosphere. A battered kettle was soon singing to itself, whistling away as the three non-redheads soon came in as well, followed by a tall, imposing black haired man who eased his way past the celebrating youths to join Mr Weasley at the stove.

“Tea, Severus?” the father asked as he set up a couple of saucers and cups.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Severus Snape acknowledged as he watched the rest of the group cavort around, singing the praises of the Irish National players and expounding – on the part of Ron Weasley – upon the extraordinary talent of Victor Krum, the seeker for the losing Bulgarian team. For, against all odds, the Bulgarian Seeker had caught the elusive snitch, after a brutal game, but had still lost the match to the Irish team. The twins were especially gleeful, having made a bet with those same stipulations and winning a pile of gold galleons as a result from a reluctant ministry employee.

Harry, Draco and Hermione were also joining in the festivities, having been invited by the Weasleys to attend the World Cup Quidditch final match when Arthur had obtained several tickets from his friend at the Ministry, Ludo Bagman. Severus had agreed, but had decided to attend as well to keep an eye on his family.

It had been a relatively quiet summer for the Snapes at the manor. The boys had settled in quickly, spending most days outside flying, swimming in the lake on the property or inside, working on homework, brewing or practising their martial arts. Draco had even gotten a few chances to Floo to his mother’s fidelius-charmed manor to visit her and his baby sister, bringing back several pictures of the little girl for her godfather and his family.

There had been one point, about a week prior, where Harry had awoken after an especially brutal nightmare complaining about his scar hurting. This worried Severus as the last time it had hurt was when Quirrell had been in the castle and had been possessed by Voldemort. To make matters worse, the mark on his own left arm, remaining from when he had been a Death Eater in Voldemort’s ranks, had started to darken once more. He’d had a long talk with Harry afterwards, going over the details as they seemed to be something other than an ordinary dream, but neither of them could gain anything except a further foreboding from the nebulous scenes. Severus had asked that Harry keep a separate dream journal from his regular journal, and Harry agreed – immediately writing down this dream as its first entry.

So, with a sense of apprehension at letting his sons attend such a huge event – rife with so many opportunities for nefarious deeds to be performed– Severus had agreed to let them join their friends at the Cup, but only if he came along.

So far, the day had been standard fare for this type of gathering. They had arrived via Portkey with another family, the Diggorys and, after paying the fee for their tent, had been directed to an area full of other Ministry employees and their families. The tent was already pitched and ready for them to occupy and the children had happily gone off in small groups to gather water and wood. Severus and Arthur had inspected the ancient tent, discretely shoring up some old spells so that the wizarding space enchantments didn’t collapse in the middle of the night.

Then Severus had cast perimeter spells and wardings to discourage anyone with ill intent from coming near the encampment. It wasn’t foolproof, but it would keep the casual trouble-maker away.

The children had returned, a bit later than he had expected, with wondrous tales of all the different encampments they had seen from around the world, their pockets already full of souvenirs. Hermione predictably had her nose in a programme, reading up on both teams. He’d had to pluck the book out of her hands in order to get her to join Ginny, Draco and Harry at pulling out the ingredients for their lunch.

The afternoon had seen the arrival of the older Weasley males – Bill, Charlie and Percy – and visits from several of Arthur’s colleagues as they waited for the call to the arena. Severus had never been impressed with Ludo Bagman, even when the man had played for the Wimbourne Wasps, and he was even less impressed with the man now; obviously too many Bludgers to his head during his lacklustre career. He’d nearly had to send a Silencio at him when he nearly revealed some sensitive information concerning the upcoming school-year. None of the students were to know that little tidbit until the Welcoming Feast. But Bagman had shut up when Arthur had discretely coughed in the middle of his blustering, and he had taken the hint – changing the subject and making that ridiculous bet with the twins.

The appearance of Barty Crouch Senior had caused Severus to become nearly as still as a lamppost as he calmly stood nearby and listened to the self-righteous bureaucrat swoop down on Bagman and whisk him away, barely sparing a glance for the potions professor as the third-eldest Weasley nearly slobbered over his boss in his willingness to do anything the man asked. Severus noted how the other brothers watched Percy with derision on their faces. There was trouble brewing there, for certain.

The match had almost been anti-climatic, although the teens had enjoyed it. He and Arthur had to restrain the boys when the Veelas had begun dancing, and he nearly laughed when their true nature had been revealed much later in the game, scaring Harry, Draco and Ron. Ron had been in hero worship mode when the teams had arrived in their box to accept thanks from the Minister, gaga over Victor Krum. The only sour episode the entire day had been on their way to the viewing box when they had crossed paths with Lucius, a simpering woman on his arm. No words had been spoken, only glares exchanged between the ex-friends, and Harry had shielded Draco as best he could, rushing his brother up the steps and away from the School Governor.

Severus accepted the cup of tea that Arthur offered him before the balding man began to rein in his charges, shooing them off to the bedchambers. Grumbled protests were heard, but the teens obeyed, the two oldest boys staying behind with Severus.

He nodded politely to them as they pulled up a pair of camp stools and accepted the cups of tea he floated over to them.

“Thanks, Severus,” Bill said, blowing lightly over his cup to cool the brew.

“How are things at Gringotts?” Severus asked. Bill was only a few years younger than Severus and had been a fifth year when Severus had begun teaching. He considered the curse-breaker a contemporary.

“Profitable,” Bill replied with a roguish grin. “Egypt will never give up all her secrets - there are too many - so there will always be work. We found a sixth century tomb recently that had some truly nasty curses on it. Do you know what we found when we finally broke them all down?”

“What?” Severus played along.

“A mummified Kneazle. Granted, the Hieroglyphics stated the feline was a Temple Kneazle – but still, all that for a cat. I mean some of those curses were ones we only come across on Pharaoh Tombs or those of their immediate family – not Temple guardians.” He shook his head as he sipped at his now-cooler brew. “But I think Charlie here has the more dangerous job.” He looked over at his younger brother who was sporting several new scars on his forearms since the last time they had seen each other. Severus obligingly glanced over at the second Weasley.

“Ah, yes; the Dragon Tamer,” Severus announced coolly, although the smile playing at the corners of his mouth belied his true admiration for the young man. “Actually, I have to thank you, Charles, for your assistance the last few years.” The younger man nodded to the master as Severus explained. “He’s been sending me dragon scales and blood on occasion for my potions experiments.”

“It’s the least I could do, Severus. Without yours and Hagrid’s help, I wouldn’t be at the Romanian Reserve – I’d be stuck out in Wales freezing me bum off half the year,” the stocky man proclaimed with a loud laugh. “The dragons aren’t missing the scales and blood – stuff is shed all the time. All of us tamers are gathering it and sending it off to our favourite potioneers.” He grinned over at his old professor, while unconsciously rubbing his hand over the short red stubble on top of his head.

Severus snorted quietly as Bill chortled at Snape’s discomfiture. They looked up as Arthur freshened up his cup at the burner and joined them in the circle.

“All bedded down, Dad?” Bill asked.

“For the most part. I think they are still jostling in front of the mirror, but the girls are already asleep and I think the boys should be soon.” He leaned back in his chair, grinning at Charlie in thanks when he charmed the chair to add curved rails at the bottom so it could be rocked. “Merlin, what a day. And I can still hear the Irish supporters kicking up their heels!” He chuckled quietly as he sipped at his tea, letting the gentle motion of his seat soothe him. The other men grew quiet as they listened to the sounds of revelry echoing around the camp.

Bill cleared his throat as he looked over at his father. “Dad, what’s up with Percy? He’s been acting like a right git. Is it just Charlie and me coming home for the weekend or is something else up?”

Arthur hummed to himself for a moment as he gently rocked the chair, thinking. He finally gazed up at his eldest. “No, it’s not just you two showing back up – he’s been this way for awhile,” he stated in a low voice so that it wouldn’t carry into the other rooms. “Worse, since he started working for Mr Crouch. Frankly, Bill, he seems embarrassed by me. He never greets me at work, always puffing his chest out and finding something else to do when he sees me in the corridors. He feels so important working for Barty... Really, there are days I wonder why he wasn’t sorted into your house, Severus. It certainly wouldn’t have surprised me if he had.”

Severus acknowledged this with a small nod while Bill frowned.

“Percy is embarrassed by you? Why?”

“He feels my work isn’t important or ambitious enough. He discovered I’ve turned down several promotions to better paid positions and doesn’t understand why.” He snorted to himself. “Apparently, holding onto my own personal honour is not good enough – especially if it doesn’t pay well.”

Charlie began to turn purple in rage. “Why that little...” but he was stopped by his father placing a placating hand on his arm.

“Don’t, Son. This is my own cross to bear with Percy. He has never felt as if he fit in, and to have my job slapped in his face every day at work... well, it is something that I have to deal with – not you. Leave it be. He’ll come around eventually, understand that family is more important. It just may take awhile. Eh, Severus?” he asked the other man with a kindly smile.

Severus just raised an eyebrow in Arthur’s direction as an answer and the other three began laughing. The Potions master gave them all a smirk. “I will grant you that the last two years have opened my eyes in that direction. Although, there are days...” He let the sentence hang deliberately and Arthur laughed harder, giving Severus a heart-felt clap on the shoulder in camaraderie.  

“I know what you mean!”

“Hmm,” Charlie noted as the sounds outside got louder. “They seem to be getting closer. Think I’ll go take a look and make sure the repelling charms will keep ‘em from overrunning the camp accidentally – never know where a drunk will tumble.”

“I’ll join you,” his older brother offered and they banished their teacups before stepping beyond the tent flap. Almost immediately they were back inside, their faces reflecting fear.

“Dad, you better get out here!” Charlie said in a harsh whisper. “Those aren’t Irish supporters; I think they’re something else!”

Severus and Arthur both looked at each other in alarm before bolting from their chairs and barging past the younger men in their haste to verify the observation, a black wand dropping effortlessly into Severus’ hand as he passed through the charmed entrance.

They looked on in horror as a crowd of black-cloaked revellers, white and silver masks covering their faces, marched down the wide dirt pathway between the myriad of now-burning tents, lit wands leading the way as they paraded through, a grotesque sight being juggled above their heads. Highlighted in the dancing orange light and drifting smoke, the Muggle family that owned the campground were being tossed and turned every which way in the air, not just the mother and father but the children as well, their terrified faces in stark contrast against the black night sky. One of the pigtailed girls was desperately holding onto a stuffed plush rabbit, but lost hold of it during one of the twists the crowd made her body perform. She screamed, reaching out grasping hands toward the toy as it was trampled into the dust of the road by the jeering crowd below her.

Her scream was what awoke the men out of their incredulous stares, goading them into action. Bill stayed outside, keeping an eye on the crowd as it surged down the road towards their area, catching fire to more tents as it went, as the other three rushed into the tent to waken the children and get them out of harms way.

“Head for the forest,” Arthur shouted as the teens tumbled out of the tent, shrugging into jackets or pulling on jumpers and rubbing sleep from their eyes. “Stay together! Boys,” he said directly to the twins, “you are responsible for your sister. Harry, Draco, stay with Hermione and Ron. Now, run! We’ll meet you there.”

The children thankfully complied, aiming in the direction of the nearby dense thicket of trees as the older men pulled out their wands and went to join the rest of the ministry employees in saving the Muggles and breaking up the masked revellers.

****

Chaos was erupting everywhere in the night as the revellers shot fire-ball spells into the tents, setting them on fire and lighting the night up in hungry, menacing flames. The quartet of fourth years soon lost sight of the twins and Ginny in the maddening crowd that swirled, screaming, through the night. They kept close together, trying to hold onto hands and fistfuls of jumpers as they slowly made their way toward the tree-line.

Draco had taken one look towards the scene in the roadway, blanched and grabbed Harry’s hand – practically dragging his brother along. Harry had grabbed Hermione’s hand in turn – before she could get swept away - and she had collared Ron, nearly choking him as she pulled him along behind her before he managed to take her hand firmly in his, releasing the strangle-hold.

Hermione let out a little squeak of relief when they reached the trees, stopping everyone so that they could catch their breath and take stock of where they were.

“Did anyone see where the twins went?” Ron asked nervously.

Hermione nodded and pointed up the line of trees to their right. “I saw them hustling Ginny off a little more to the east. Lost sight of them a few minutes ago, but I think they’re safe.”

Draco glanced nervously at the burning campground, coughing as the acrid smoke came drifting towards them. “Let’s get further in, please? I’m almost sure Lucius is out there and I’d rather get as far away as possible,” he emphasised.

The other three agreed and they began to work their way deeper into the dark forest. They passed groups of people talking and worrying, even passing some students who were speaking French. Hermione turned her nose up at them, having had a run-in with the girls earlier and their snobby attitudes. They even passed a house-elf who looked extremely worried, mumbling to herself and wringing her hands in her dirty pillowcase. Hermione wanted to check on her, but the boys dragged her away.

Eventually they found a small open glade, surrounded by tall bushes and even taller trees; the canopy of leaves blocking all but a few tiny bits of starlight that could be seen as the smoke streamers from the burning campground still creeped along the ground and overhead.

“I think we’re safe here,” stated Harry as he looked around the little area. “We should be able to hear an all-clear at this point. Do you think Dad would want us to use the Portkeys?” he asked his brother. But Draco shook his head.

“He would’ve told us. Let’s just stay put until we hear otherwise.” But he fingered the emerald in his ear as he kept a sharp lookout for more of his sire’s associates.

“Who were those people?” Hermione queried a moment later.

“Death Eaters,” came the response from Ron and Draco simultaneously. They looked at each other in astonishment that they had actually both known an answer. Hermione huffed at them to get their attention, but Harry supplied the explanation.

“Voldemort’s supporters; Dad told me about them. Apparently they felt safe enough to come out of hiding again. You think Lucius was out there?” he asked Draco. The blonde nodded his head, nervously looking around.

“It would be something he would’ve thought funny.” He looked over at his brother. “Harry, you think your scar hurting a few weeks ago and this is a coincidence?”

“No... Remember I said the dream mentioned the World Cup. I think that’s why Dad came along. He wasn’t originally going to join us and then he changed his mind the morning after the dream. I think that means I somehow saw or heard what Voldemort was planning. Don’t know how though.” He thought back to that night.

He had been dreaming of a man going into an old house, climbing the dirty, dusty stairs to a chamber where firelight flickered from under the door. A huge snake had passed him on her way to the open door, and her passage knocked it open further revealing Wormtail – Peter Pettigrew – talking to someone he couldn’t see, someone in a tall, wing-backed, tattered upholstered chair. The snake had hissed at the chair and Harry had understood what she had said, revealing the old man on the stairs. And the old man had died, killed by the same green-lit spell that Harry saw whenever he thought back to the night his parents died. But before that, the men had been talking – talking about something occurring at the World Cup, and how someone was loyal to Voldemort inside Hogwarts.

Waking up screaming, Harry had found Severus sitting on the edge of his bed, concern etched in his face and a bloody flannel in his hand. Harry’s scar had been bleeding while he’d been thrashing and screaming in his bed, the noise alerting Severus who’d come running. Draco had heard as well and was standing in the doorway when Harry had collapsed, weeping, into his father’s arms and it had taken several minutes before he’d been able to tell his family the contents of the dream. A few calming draughts later, Draco had insisted on spending the remainder of the night in his brother’s chamber and Harry had been grateful to have the warm back against his own as he finally fell asleep. The next morning Severus announced at breakfast that he would be accompanying them to the Cup.

The children fell quiet, peering out into the night as the noise from the campgrounds began to dissipate, left with the smell of burning tarp, crying from frightened children and periodic calls from people seeking out their missing companions.

A rustle behind them, coming from the bushes, caused Harry to whip around. He could see no one there and was about to call out ‘Who’s there?’ when a voice cried out “Morsmordre!”

A beam of light shot into the sky above the canopy of trees, lighting the night in an unearthly green glow.  Harry could just see between the tree limbs the outline of a skull, mouth open, and a coiling snake coming out of the opening, as if being vomited by the deaths-head.

Before he could say anything to the others, the sound of multiple Apparitions peppered the night, like a Muggle machine gun. Draco and Harry both yelled “Down!” throwing themselves on their companions, forcing all four to the leaf-strewn ground as spells ricocheted across the clearing where once they’d stood.

“Stop!” the teens heard someone bellowing, the command so forceful that the spells stopped immediately. Harry peeked above his arms to see Mr Weasley and his father storming into the clearing, wands at the ready, facing the group who had Apparated into the clearing. He and the others stayed put, however, not trusting the unknown wizards and witches.

“Those are our children!” Mr Weasley growled.

“They were caught at the scene of the crime!” a familiar voice accused. Harry frowned, looking up to see Percy standing next to his boss, Mr Crouch. It had been Percy who had spoken. Arthur slowly turned to face the young man, fire smouldering in his eyes. Harry had never seen Mr Weasley’s temper before, and he wished he wasn’t now. He would never want that look turned on him.

“Percy,” he began slow and deliberate, clearly reining in his anger and speaking to the ex-head boy as if he was a five-year old. “You know your brother and his friends were in the tent when this mess all began. You’ve been with us all afternoon!” Arthur explained, exasperated at his middle son. Percy had the good grace to turn red in embarrassment.  Arthur then turned to Crouch. “Barty, these are teenagers! I told them to come into the forest and await us here while we helped the Auror’s disperse the revellers. Be reasonable, man!”

As Mr Weasley attempted to calm down the bristling ministry employees, Severus walked over to the teens, still prostrate on the ground, assisting them in standing back up.

“Are you all right?” he enquired, whispering. All four nodded, brushing off the dried leaves that stuck to their clothes.

“Dad, what is that thing?” Harry whispered back, motioning with his eyes skyward.

“The Dark Mark. You’ve seen my tattoo – it’s the same symbol; the Dark Lord’s calling card, as it were. During the first war it would be left over the houses where someone had died. Muggles can’t see it, only magical folk can detect it. It was used to induce terror. Someone near here conjured it.”

Hermione gasped. “We heard them!”

Mr Crouch swept Arthur aside as he barrelled down on the teens. “What did you say, missy?” His little toothbrush moustache bristled as he pierced Hermione with his penetrating blue eyes.

“We heard someone yelling a word... Morsmordre... from the bushes over there.” She pointed to a tall clump of bushes behind the group. Barty directed a few of his team with a flick of his head, and everyone watched as the men searched in and amongst the bushes.

“We’ve got something here, Mr Crouch,” one of the men called out. He pushed his way back through the bushes dragging a small figure behind him. In the light of the numerous lumos’ lighting up the glen, everyone could clearly see a cowering, crying, house-elf; the same elf the children had passed earlier.

Crouch stormed over to her, yanking her out of her captor’s hold. “Winky! I told you to stay in the tent!” he yelled, causing the little elf to cringe and cry harder.

“I’s tried, Master Barty, but the loud noises were coming closer and closer... I’s afraid!” She pawed at her master, dropping to her knees in placation. Crouch sneered down at her, releasing her arm sharply.

“Nevertheless, I told you to stay there! You disobeyed me, Winky!”

“Master, please...” she pleaded, tears overflowing her large, bulbous eyes.

He looked up at the Auror who had found her. “Was there anyone else back there?”

“No sir, just her. But she had this on her.” He brought forth a wand, causing all the adults to gasp in horror. Barty turned back around slowly, fury on his face.

“A wand, Winky? Where did you get this wand?”

“I’s found it, Master – on the ground, I’s did,” she cried.

Severus came closer to take a look, feeling as if the wand was familiar. It was, and he turned to pin his son with a glare.

“Harry, where’s your wand?” Crouch and Percy, along with most of Auror’s, turned to stare at the famous teen.

“My wand?” the boy replied a bit gormlessly, feeling around his jean’s pockets for the length of slender wood that was an extension of his being. Not finding it, he looked up panic-stricken to face his father.

“It’s not here! I must’ve dropped it in all the confusion.”

“Well, somehow it ended up in these bushes next to this elf. Care to explain?” He crossed his arms across his chest and he could tell that his stern demeanour was frightening the children, but at this point he didn’t care. He had been more frightened watching the children ducking from the stunning spells. And now Harry – his son! – had lost his wand, only for it to be found in the hands of a suspicious house-elf.

“Dad, this is as far as I got – I never went over to those bushes; I swear! I don’t know how it got over there  - maybe someone picked it up after I lost it?” he ventured.

“You think?” Severus taunted, clearly up to his ears in the night’s doings. Harry flinched, but then he squared his shoulders, ready to take whatever came at him for this idiocy.

“Do a priori on it,” someone suggested. Severus shot a glare in their direction before sending another at Harry when he asked “A what?”

“A Priori Incantatem is a spell, Harry, that shows what spells have been recently performed by a wand. Ghosts of those spells will show up at the end of the wand,” Arthur explained helpfully. Severus nodded a thank you in the father’s direction, reaching out a hand to the Auror for the Holly wand. A touch of his black wand to the end of Harry’s and he sighed heavily when a ghostly vision of the snake-in-the-skull came floating out the end of Harry’s wand.

“Dad...” Harry pleaded. “I don’t even know what that spell was until five minutes ago!”

“I know, Harry,” said Severus calmly. He turned back to the Ministry Officials. “Obviously one of the revellers found my son’s wand and took advantage of it, Bartemius. He could still be here, hiding,” he pointed out.

Crouch looked panicked at this suggestion and barged back into the undergrowth himself. They could hear him thrashing around, but he soon came back out empty handed. “No one back there, they’ve probably already Apparated out. Winky, I’m severely disappointed in you!” he said, turning back to the miserable elf. “You disobeyed me and shirked the duties I assigned you, then took this wizard’s wand – when you are forbidden by the law to touch a wand; this means clothes!” he threatened.

The elf burst out in a fresh new cascade of tears, swinging her head to and fro in denial as Hermione gasped in outrage and Arthur tried to reason with the incensed official.

“Be reasonable, Barty – she was frightened for her life.”

“Nevertheless, Arthur, she knew what I expected of her and she failed in those tasks. I have no choice. Go home and pack your things, Winky – I’ll be there in a few moments.” Wailing in her grief, the house-elf snapped her fingers, disappearing in a loud pop.

It was quite obvious to everyone else that whoever had conjured the Dark Mark in the sky had long gone after discarding Harry’s wand. The auror’s returned to the encampment and Crouch marched back into the undergrowth, muttering under his breath. Percy disapparated after mumbling about all the paperwork this was going to generate and he’d better get back to the Ministry to get it started, shooting Harry and Draco a black look before he went.

Severus and Arthur herded their teens back to the campground, meeting up with the twins and Ginny and then with Charlie and Bill at their scorched tent. Quickly packing their belongings, the Snapes said their good-byes before Severus Apparated the boys back to the manor just as the sun was starting to peek over the horizon.

Runeskin was waiting in the foyer as the Snapes arrived back at Prince Manor; tired, dirty and hungry from the night’s happenings. A snap of the fingers and the back-packs had been sent up to their bedrooms to await unpacking, and with a sympathetic nod-and a quick cleaning charm over his charges - the chief house-elf had led them to a small dining room where a morning spread, fit for a king, was laid out on the sideboard.

The two teenagers moaned in pleasure as they descended upon the silver and china serving bowls that had steam rising up from under their lids. As they loaded their plates past the groaning point, Severus fixed himself a small plate of eggs, tomatoes, ham and a generous serving of coffee in a stay-hot mug the boys had gotten him that was easily four times the original size of a normal coffee cup. He always had his morning caffeine jolt in this mug now. It amused him to no end that they had picked out a mug with the saying “There is a fine line between genius and insanity; Thanks to my children, I have erased this line.” He was seriously considering taking it with him back to Hogwarts – he could just imagine the looks he would receive at the head table.

While Harry’s manners had improved over the last two years, he could still eat quickly like any other normal teen-ager; seemingly inhaling the over-laden plate of food. Severus didn’t mind, he was just happy that Harry was eating like a normal child now. Nevertheless, the lad would never be one to go to fat, he had too much of his father in him and the Snapes were known for being tall, lean and high metabolisms.

The boys finished before their father and excused themselves to go up to their rooms and see to their familiars and clean themselves properly. Severus lingered over his coffee, reading a stack of mail that had come in over the last day, summoning a quill and some parchment to write out answers when needed. An owl flew in the open window a few moments later carrying the morning edition of the Prophet. He set aside his work to see what the rag had to offer on the evening’s happenings.

He wasn’t surprised at the Ministry hush-up of the scare at the match; Percy running interference with the press for Crouch. Arthur had gotten cornered early in the morning as he’d returned to work and had given his non-answer before brushing past the press hounds. Severus tossed the paper into the bin on his way to his home laboratory, rolling up his sleeves as he strode into the immaculate room and summoned a number ten copper cauldron, placing it over a flame and humming to himself as he pulled ingredients off the shelves.

****

Past his better judgment, Snape let his sons ride the train to school after a whirlwind shopping trip through Diagon Alley. Both boys were growing and had exceeded the growth charms on their robes and school uniforms, necessitating a trip to Madam Malkins; and they both had extensive book lists for the year. And, too, after the disaster at the World Cup, Severus was making sure both boys had Arm Holsters for their wands and knew how to use them quickly. No more wands in jeans pockets.

After seeing them onto the train and watching as it pulled away from the station, Severus Apparated to the gates outside of Hogwarts and made his way quickly up to the castle to make sure the dungeons were prepared for the students that evening.

He was not surprised, therefore, when Dumbledore made an appearance at the classroom doors.

“Everything satisfactory, Severus?” the old man enquired, looking around at the immaculate dungeon classroom.

“Within reason. I’m low on some ingredients – but they are not needed until the end of the month; enough time for Jiggers to lay in a supply for me.” He closed the doors to the student ingredient cabinet, resetting the locking charms as he did so before turning to address the headmaster as he made his way up to his desk.

“Is everything in place for the Tournament?” he asked.

Albus nodded, slinging a hip onto a student desk where he perched like a large purple and white bird. “As much as we can before we know who will be participating. There are new rules this time around – no one under the age of seventeen can participate. I’ll be setting an age barrier around the cup.”

“That won’t stop someone who is bound and determined to participate, Albus.”

“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore ceded. “But it will keep the majority honest. It should stop Harry from participating, however.” He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a sweet, popping it in his mouth.

Severus looked up from where he was seated, perusing his syllabus for the coming week, alarmed. “Harry has no wish to participate, Albus. Contrary to popular opinion, he does not deliberately go out there glory-seeking. He would prefer this would all go away. Trust me, he won’t even think about joining this fiasco.” He dropped his eyes back to his papers, reading for a moment more before setting them firmly down on the desk.

“So, who did you finally get to take the Defence job?”

****

“So, Harry, who do you think we’re going to get to teach us Defence this year?” Ron asked after admiring Harry’s new wand holster.

“Who cares?” Harry shrugged, slipping his wand back into its leather sleeve, making sure it clicked into place. “We’ve only had one good one so far. As long they aren’t out to kill me, does it really matter?”

Draco smirked at his brother’s sarcasm. “I just hope they know whereof they speak,” he pointed out.

Hermione scoffed. “Lupin knew ‘whereof he spoke’ and it didn’t help in the slightest,” she stated. “He’s still gone. Lockhart was fairly knowledgeable…”

“’Fairly knowledgeable?’ Hermione, the man was a fraud – he did none of those things he wrote about! Other wizards did – he just took the credit and Obliviated their memories!” Ron argued. “You ask me, he’s where he belongs – in the loony bin!”

Hermione had the good sense to stay quiet, seeing as she was in a compartment full of boys that agreed with Ron’s assessment. Luna wasn’t any help, sitting quietly next to Draco and reading her magazine and Ginny was off with her third-year friends.

Luna had drifted into their cabin almost as soon as the train had taken off, dreamily said hello to everyone and then had quietly sat down next to the blond boy and pulled out her ‘zine to read. She hadn’t said a word since, and Draco didn’t seem uncomfortable with her there – he almost seemed protective of the waifish Ravenclaw.

Draco finally asked the question that had been burning inside of him since the World Cup. “So, there’s a rumour that was going around the World Cup that there is going to be something going on at Hogwarts this year. Anyone heard anything else?”

Ron was nearly bouncing in excitement. “Yeah, Percy, Bill and Charlie kept whispering all last week and would shut-up the second one of us younger ones came in the room. Something’s definitely up – but they’re all hush-hush about it.”

“Father says that Minister Fudge is digging tunnels under the school to store all his ill-gotten gain from his nefarious dealings with the Goblins,” piped up a small little voice. Everyone stared incredulously at Luna. “It’s true,” she continued, “He’s devoting a whole issue to it next month.”

“A whole issue of what?” Hermione asked derisively.

“The Quibbler; my father’s the editor,” Luna explained patiently, holding up the magazine so that the other girl could read the front cover.

“The Quibbler! That’s nothing but a... lovely periodical,” she quickly amended after Harry elbowed her in the ribs. She gingerly rubbed her hand over the sore area while Harry apologised pointedly. Luna gave them a puzzled smile then returned to her reading after murmuring a thank you to Hermione.

Before they knew it, they were standing on a wet train platform desperately trying to pile into a carriage that would take them up to the warm castle on the hilltop before they became soaked to the skin. When they were all settled, Hermione cast warming charms over her carriage mates as the conveyances rumbled up the narrow lane to the school, letting the students off at the sheltered portico that led to the main doors of the castle.

The lights were warmly welcoming as they climbed the wide stairs to the Great Hall entrance, streaming to their seats at their house tables. Harry and Draco parted at the doors with smiles and brotherly pats on the back. Before too long, the first years were sorted and the tables had suddenly groaned under the weight of all the food that suddenly appeared.

Harry had noticed his Dad checking to make sure he and his brother were fine before aiming his attention to his snakes. Harry noticed that the girls – Millicent and Pansy – were taking an interest in the new firsties, showing them the ropes. While he hated Nott’s gang with a passion, the girls were nice enough – and they appeared to have... matured... over the summer, he noted with a sudden need to swallow convulsively. Then his eyes were drawn to the Ravenclaw table where Draco was sitting next to their seeker, an absolutely gorgeous Asian girl named Cho Chang. He felt the need to swallow again as her eyes lighted on his, and he totally missed Hermione waving her hand in front of his face – and he probably wouldn’t have noticed his fork sticking into his cheek if it hadn’t been so sharp. But it was what he needed to bring him down to earth. He blushed as the girl giggled at his table faux pas before turning away from watching him.

“Earth to Harry,” Hermione tried again.

“Huh? Oh... Sorry. I was distracted...”

“I should say so,” she said with a small smile tugging at her mouth. “She’s quite pretty...”

“Who?” he asked, trying to act nonchalant as he reached for a pastry off of the desert tray that had just popped up.

“Honestly, Harry; Cho of course. I noticed you locking eyes there for a moment,” his best friend teased.

“Yeah...” he sighed, resting his chin in his hand. “But I’ve no chance with her; she’s older, smarter and so much better looking...”

“Harry, ever since your glamours were broken, you’ve had your growth spurts, you’ve let your hair grow out,” she said, as he self-consciously threw the long plait over his shoulder, “you are considered quite the catch around here, you know,” Hermione pointed out. Lavender and Parvati were eagerly nodding their heads in agreement. Harry looked at the three girls as if they’d lost their minds.

“Whatever,” he mumbled pushing his glasses back up on his nose, glad that Dumbledore had decided to get the rooms attention at that moment. He turned away from them and focused his attention to the head table. He noticed that the Defence seat was still untaken. He wondered where the new professor was.

“Now that we have feasted on the wonderful cooking of our kitchen elves, there are several announcements to be made. First, Mr Filch has posted an expanded list of banned products on the door of his office; I suggest you all make yourselves aware of its contents.

“Secondly, as I’m sure you have noticed, we are currently without a defence instructor. Never fear, you shall have one by tomorrow – he was delayed this evening and had to miss the welcoming feast.” He waited out the expected murmuring before continuing.

“Thirdly, I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts will be playing host to two other schools this season, as the Ministry of Magical Cooperation has seen fit to host a Tri-Wizard tournament this year with the winner taking home ten thousand galleons.” He paused as the noise amongst the students rose to a fevered pitch.

“A scroll has been posted in each common room explaining the history behind the tournament, and its rules this time around; but I do need to point out that only students who have reached their majority, that is their seventeenth birthday, by October thirty-first will be able to participate.” Loud arguing could be heard as several of the older years realised that they did not qualify with that rule alone; the Weasley twins being some of the most vocal. Apparently they had designs on that money; they wanted to start a joke shop after they left school and had been spending the summer perfecting new products, to their mother’s annoyance. Harry knew they had won quite a lot on that wager with Bagman, they couldn’t have gone through that money that quickly, could they? He was about to ask Ron when Dumbledore cried for quiet again, having to let loose with a sonorous charm on his voice to make sure he was heard.

The booming sound of his voice shut the room up immediately, and he cast a quick finite before resuming. “Thank you. I’m sorry, but in order to minimise the risk of injury, as the tasks the champions will be asked to perform are quite dangerous and designed for only the most powerful and trained young wizards and witches in mind, the age requirement is one we can not suspend. Now, I’m sure you all have questions and the parchments in the towers will explain all. It is getting late and classes start bright and early in the morning; so chop, chop - off to bed!” He shooed them out and the students reluctantly began to scatter toward the doors and out to the towers, prefects leading the first-years.

Severus had captured his sons’ eyes and they knew to stay behind. Draco headed over to sit next to Harry at the Gryffindor table as they waited for Severus to give instructions to his prefects before striding over to them. He motioned them to rise and walk with him as he headed out to the entrance hall.

“I trust both of you - you especially, Harry - are not planning on attempting to participate in this foolish spectacle.”

Draco shook his head violently; he had no wish to subject himself to certain death. Harry looked exasperatedly at his father. “Dad, I’m not stupid, I’ve read the history books in the library at home: I know what happens in this tournament, I do not plan on putting my name in. Besides, I’m sure Dumbledore will make sure there is no way an underage student could even attempt it!”

“Good. I just needed to make sure. I told the headmaster that you wouldn’t be interested, but he seemed to think otherwise. And yes, you are correct; he is ensuring that underage students will not be able to attempt to enter.”

Harry snorted, looking around to make sure they were private. “Why he thinks he knows me is beyond me. He still thinks I’m James reincarnated.” He tossed his long hair back over his shoulder, frowning.

“I agree, Son,” Severus assured him. “Albus is a bit short-sighted when it comes to you, so keep your nose clean this term and don’t give him any fuel to use against you,” he advised.

Harry was about to reassure his father when the creaking of the Great Doors and a blast of cold, wet wind heralded the arrival of someone to the castle. The Snapes turned as one towards the entrance and a flash of lightening backlit a collection of ragged and dripping robes as they eased past the open door. At first Harry thought it was a strange animal that had entered, then realised that the person was carrying a crutch to help offset the wooden leg that was pounding across the entrance way towards them, water streaming from the sparse hair. As the figure entered the light from the Great Hall, he could see that it was a grizzled older man; scars criss-crossed his face and a large divot was missing from the side of his nose. One eye seemed larger than the other and as Harry watched, it began to swirl in place – apparently able to turn completely around in its socket. It both fascinated and sickened him. He felt Draco scooting closer to him, away from this person.

“Snape,” the man acknowledged coldly. His eyes swept from Snape’s face down to his left arm where they stayed focused for a moment.

“Moody,” Snape sent back. His hands were crossed in front of his chest, but his fingers were not far from his wand holster. He stared down his nose at the shorter man. “About time you showed up,” he added.

“One of my traps went off this morning – had to wait for the Aurors and Ministry officials to show up,” the man grumbled.

“Ah, yes, I believe I saw the report on that this afternoon – trash bins exploding, I remember? Really, Moody, you expect Dark Wizards to be hiding out in your rubbish bins?” He smirked at the other wizard.  “Boys, this is Alastor Moody, ex-Auror and paranoid extraordinaire.” He paused before continuing. “Your new Defence instructor.”

Harry and Draco murmured polite hellos as they tried not to stare at the eccentric old man, and failing miserably.

“And these are...?” Moody prompted, pinning the two in place with his wonky eye. Harry was certain it could see right through his robes.

“My sons: Harry and Draco Snape.” The ex-Auror’s eyes brightened with recognition – the one spinning faster in excitement.

“Really?” He peered closer at Harry’s face searching out and finally spotting the famous lightning bolt -shaped scar that peeked out from under his fringe. A hand holding a wand made as if to sweep the hair aside to see better, but Severus knocked it aside as Harry scooted backward out of the way, sending a scathing glance at the older Wizard.

“Watch it, Moody – no one touches my sons!” Snape snarled. “Unless, of course, you want a wooden arm to match the wooden leg? I’d be more than happy to oblige.” Moody glared back, but lowered his hand and cocked his head towards Dumbledore who had entered the hall as well.

“Alastor, glad you could make it. Why don’t you let these boys get back to their dorms – it is quite late and we’ve all had long days...” he sweet-talked the new professor as he led him towards the stairway that climbed to the teacher’s quarters. The Snapes watched as he was manoeuvred away and waited until he was out of sight before breathing a collected sigh of relief.

“Harry, don’t forget what I said,” Severus reminded his son.

“I won’t, Dad. I’ll  see you tomorrow,” he assured his father, letting the man embrace him quickly before parting ways from the other two and hightailing it up the stairs to his tower.

****

“Draco?”

Draco tensed up then sighed. He’d expected her to approach eventually, but really had been hoping she’d give up. It didn’t help that the Ravenclaws were paired with the Slytherins in Herbology this year. He dusted his hands of rich loam and turned to face the girl who’d approached.

“What is it, Pansy?” he acknowledged, reaching in front of him for the next snapping nettle he needed to repot. He had spared her a glance, which he felt was all she truly deserved. He winced internally as he saw the false simper on her face.

“Why aren’t you talking to me anymore?” she asked. “We’ve been promised since we were babies...”

“Pansy, that agreement was broken when I was disowned. I have a new family now, and I doubt my father would want to renew the arrangement.” He jerked as he felt her hand rest on his bicep, gently squeezing the Quidditch-toned muscle underneath his robe sleeves. He pointedly grabbed her hand and dropped it to her side before taking a step out of her reach, only to have her advance forward. He growled under his breath.

“But Drakey-poo...”

“Pansy,” he snarled – Merlin, he hated that sobriquet, “get it through your head: I am not now, nor have I ever been, interested in you as a future partner. It was a political arrangement through our sires and has been nullified. And before you ask,” he added when she opened her mouth, “+no, I do not want to renew it under my new family situation.” He gave her a raking glance before dismissing her with a parting comment, “And don’t ever call me that horrid pet-name again or I’ll have to hex you.”

“Is there a problem here, Mr Snape?” Professor Sprout asked as she made her rounds.

“No ma’am. Pansy was just asking a question and now she’s leaving,” he said coldly, directing his words to the Slytherin girl.

“Miss Parkinson? I believe your station is over there,” the professor indicated with her spade. The girl murmured something as she turned and walked back to her spot, throwing Draco one last look, which he ignored. “Carry on, class,” the teacher continued, walking between the tables.

“That was a close one,” Terry whispered. Draco could only nod his head, patting the soil a little more firmly than he should and getting his fingers snapped at for his troubles by the baby plant.

***

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

Harry and Draco jumped as Moody’s hand slammed on the edge of their desk, scooting away from the man as he stumped along the aisle between the desks.

“I am here to teach you to defend yourselves against the forces of evil out there. In order to survive, you must be alert, ready to defend at a moments notice, and be able to cast accurately! Anyone could mean you harm, even the most innocuous of appearing people. Many of He-who-must-not-be-named’s followers were people you’d never suspect in a million years!”

It was a testament to how cowed the class was that you could have heard a pin drop as the professor made his way across the back of the classroom and back up the second aisle.

“And how did he do it? How did he hide all those followers where no one would realise who they were?” He scanned across the room until he landed upon a likely victim.

“Weasley!”

Ron jumped, gulping loudly as he answered, “Yes, sir?”

“What spells can you tell your class about that the Dark Lord would’ve liked to use?”

“Well, my dad told me about one spell... but he said it was unforgiveable.”

“Aye, and what spell would that be, laddie?” the ex-Auror barked.

“The Imperius curse,” Ron replied weakly.

“Exactly! The Imperius Curse! One of three Unforgiveable spells in His arsenal.” He waved his hand and a piece of chalk began to squeakily write on the blackboard the word UNFORGIVEABLE in large, bold letters and the word Imperio underneath it before stopping in mid-air.

“Now, who shall we demonstrate this on? Hmmm...” he hummed as his eye swirled around in its socket. “Nott, come here! Now, boy!” he yelled, emphasising the last two words with thumps of his crutch.  Nott hurried forward, skidding to a stop in front of the professor. Moody dropped his wand in his hand, raising it partway towards the trembling boy.

“Watch carefully, everyone... Imperio!” he intoned.

Harry watched as a slack-jawed look came over Theodore, his eyes glazing over and goofy grin plastering itself on his face.

“Hop on one foot!” the professor commanded and sure enough, Nott began hopping in place on one foot. Moody walked around the bouncing Slytherin and began lecturing the class. “Now, he will continue to do that or anything else I ask him... Nott, flap your arms like a bird... until I remove the spell or give him something else to do.” Moody ignored the snickers coming from several areas of the room as Nott was still jumping on one foot while flapping his arms like a large bird. “This spell can last for years at a time and it is hard to detect if done correctly. Many of You-Know-Who’s followers got out of prison by claiming they were under the Imperious.” He waved his wand quickly at Nott, murmuring “Finite,” and then shooed the boy, who couldn’t figure out why his arms and left leg were hurting, back to his seat.

“Longbottom! Sit up straight, lad! Give me another Unforgiveable Curse,” he demanded.

Harry could hear Neville shifting in his seat and mumbling behind him.

“Speak up, Longbottom, I don’t think the class could hear you.”

“The – the Cruciatus, sir.”

“CORRECT!” Moody thundered, banging his crutch in approval and the piece of chalk quickly wrote Crucio underneath the previous incantation. He went to a jar on a table that held several insects, reaching in and pulling one out, setting it on the table in front of the students. “Engorgio. Yes, Longbottom, you would be very familiar with this curse, wouldn’t you... I believe your parents are still at St Mungo’s suffering the effects of that, aren’t they?” If looks could kill, Moody would be smouldering pile of ash, by the looks that Neville, Ron and Hermione sent him. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs side of the class turned decidedly frosty. In contrast, the Slytherin’s were having a field day; Nott and Zabini taunting Neville.

Moody whirled around, “SILENCE!” and the class immediately shut up. “Think it’s funny, do you? Then watch!” Pointing his wand at the now-large bug, the professor chanted “Crucio!” and the bug began to squirm and writhe on the table-top, a high pitched whine coming from it. The Patil sisters hid their heads in their arms, Lavender, Pansy and Millicent had large tears rolling down their faces, but it was Hermione who stunned them all by finally crying out.

“Stop it!”

Moody jerked his wand up, breaking the connection with the insect who collapsed in tangle of limbs on the table.

“Can’t you see what you were doing to him?” Hermione persisted, pointing at Neville across the aisle from her. Harry followed her finger, as did the rest of the class, to see Ron holding up the larger boy who was quite pale and had broken out in a cold sweat.

Moody walked over to the student, placing a hand on his shaking shoulder. “Do you need to see the Madam, Longbottom?” Despite Ron’s urging, Neville took a deep shuddering breath and seemed to regain his composure. He shook his head at the teacher.

“I’m alright, sir.” Moody just squeezed his shoulder again.

“See me after class,” he declared and Neville agreed with a nod.

Moody cleared his throat before clomping back to the front of the class. “Now, remember I said there were three Unforgiveable curses. Who can give me the final one?”

Next to Harry, Draco tentatively raised his hand while giving an apologetic look at his brother.

“Snape!”

“The Avada Kedavra, sir.”

“Precisely. And what does it do?” he prompted Draco.

“It’s the killing curse, professor. Nothing can stop it, it always kills.”

“Incorrect, Mr Snape. There has been one exception since this spell was created; who can tell me who it is? Miss Granger?”

“Harry, sir,” she whispered.

“Correct! Harry Potter-Snape is the only known survivor of the Avada Kedavra curse, and none know why. In fact, it is presumed that he reflected the spell back on its caster, rendering the individual – in this case the Dark Lord – dead.”

Harry slumped in his seat, his ears flaming red. He wanted to run away and hide.

“PAY ATTENTION!” Moody yelled, causing the entire class to jump. They had all missed the chalk writing the final curse on the blackboard, and it stood out in glowing neon green. Harry dragged his eyes away from it to watch the professor point his wand at the heaving insect that had yet to recover completely from the round of Crucio.

“Avada Kedavra,” Moody hissed, sounding almost maniacally pleased as the green spell leapt from the end of his wand and surrounded the bug, killing it instantly. Harry had a moment of flashback where he saw the green light from his dreams, and he whispered, “Mum...”. Draco shook him out of his stupor and he raised his eyes to those of his teacher who was staring at him as if Harry was now the bug; a bug to be studied and taken apart. Harry shivered, breaking the eye contact and he wrote down the homework assignment half-heartedly in his planner before shoving it all in his backpack. He stopped next to Neville’s seat on the way toward the door.

“Nev, you don’t have to stay, you can come with us down to my dad’s rooms... I don’t trust this guy.” Harry whispered.

“It’s alright, Harry, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at dinner,” Neville reassured his friend with a slight smile. Harry could tell he didn’t mean it, but felt pretty sure the professor wouldn’t do anything stupid. So he shrugged and continued on his way out the door with Ron, Draco and Hermione in tow.  They headed down to Severus’ quarters where they were meeting twice a week in study sessions before dinner.

Severus looked up from his home desk when the teens trooped in, collapsing in heaps on the two sofas in the parlour. He capped his ink and laid his quill down before heading over to the Floo to order a tea tray and taking his rest in his wing-backed chair.

“So, Defence with Professor Moody; how was it?” Well, how could he have known it was the exact wrong question to ask? They all began talking at once, gesturing and heatedly explaining the apparently traumatic lesson. He raised his hands to command their silence which, after three years of training, they complied with immediately.

“One at a time, please; Draco?”

“Dad, the man is scary. He was showing us the Unforgiveable curses – and not just talking about them in an abstract way, he was casting them! He cast Imperio on Nott, Crucio and Avada Kedavra on a spider. Longbottom nearly went catatonic in class after Moody told the entire class why his parents are in St Mungo’s and then cast the spell on the bug...” He trailed off, looking at Severus as the man stared at the pale faces in front of him. Harry didn’t look far from collapse himself, but he held himself stiffly not giving in to the emotions.

“Merlin save us,” Snape whispered. “We’ve a madman loose amongst us.” He stood up and began pacing as the tea tray materialised on the table in front of the Floo. No one made a move toward it, not even Ron.

“Dumbledore won’t be a help, I’m pretty sure he sanctioned this. We all have to tell the headmaster what we are going to be teaching and how, and he would have nixed the idea if he didn’t agree with it. What is the old man up to?” It was obviously a rhetorical question and none of the teens made even a peep towards answering it.

After several moments, Severus returned to his chair, folding his long limbs back into it. He was silent for several more minutes as he poured everyone some tea and summoned calming and restorative draughts to lace the tea with, encouraging them all to drink it up. Colour soon returned to their faces and Harry’s breathing seemed to ease. They had spoken a few times about the AK curse and its significance to Harry; it was another thing entirely to see it in action – even on a spider. Severus would need to make some time to talk with his son some more.

“What can we do, Dad?” Draco asked.

“What can you do? Go to class, do the assignments. If you have to, refuse to do anything that looks dangerous. He is a crafty Auror, knows his stuff. I may not agree with his methods, or the subject matter – but Albus refuses to give me the post, although granted - all my previous attempts were half-hearted at best. I may have to be more persuasive next year.”

The teens all seemed cheered up at the prospect as they had all learned a great deal in his impromptu lessons over the last year, especially when they visited the manor and had their martial arts lessons. They just needed to survive this year.

“Now, get started on that homework – I believe I assigned three feet this morning?” he prompted, raising his left eyebrow in suggestion. He chuckled darkly as they all scrambled for their book bags.

“Mummy, no...” The small baby reached towards its mother through the rails of his cot as the green light spread around her and she dropped to the floor in a graceless puddle of limbs akimbo and bright red hair. A dark figure laughed; a high cold chilling laugh before sending another bright green light at the small figure in the cot.

Eyes, the same colour as the spell, watched as it sped towards them, not realising the importance of the moment before pain - unbearable pain - split the night.

“Neville, hold him still!” Ron yelled at his roommate as Harry thrashed back and forth in his four-poster, blood seeping from the inflamed scar on his forehead and screaming in obvious pain. Ron was draped over his best mate’s legs and Neville was attempting to still Harry’s arms while Seamus had run down to Professor McGonagall’s rooms to summon her.

The screaming had managed to wake up the entire tower and sleepy students were crowded at the open door, mouths agape as they watched Harry’s nightmare unfold.

Minerva had to rap quite a few heads with her knuckles in order to squeeze into the room and when she did, she immediately turned back to Seamus and ordered him to Floo Call Professor Snape.

“And tell him to bring calming potions and Dreamless Sleep with him!” she called after the fourth year. “Merlin, Boy, you do get into a pickle sometimes,” she murmured to herself before wrangling the prefects to order the students back to their beds. It wouldn’t do to have Harry awake to everyone peering in at him as if he was a sideshow at a carnival; he got enough of that on a regular basis.

Severus pounded up the stairs and rushed past Minerva, potion bottles clinking in his hands. He, none too gently, lifted Neville out of the way, pinning Harry’s arms down with his larger frame, wandlessly uncorking a vial and easing it down his son’s throat. The thrashing stopped, and Harry’s body relaxed. Ron gingerly got up off of his friend at his professor’s suggestion and stepped away from the bed as Severus coaxed Harry awake.

The green eyes fluttered for a second before they focused on the Potions master, then they filled with tears. Severus gathered Harry to him while Minerva set up a privacy bubble around the bed that filtered out sight and sound leaving the two Snapes alone.

“Shhh, Harry, it’s alright,” Severus soothed. This had been one of the worst nightmares he had seen in awhile – almost as bad as the one in August.

“It – it was Mum... I saw him k-kill her,” Harry stammered. Severus silently cursed Moody for showing that damned curse in class earlier in the week. He had been halfway expecting this reaction. Harry remembered very little from the attack when he was a toddler; the Dementors brought back some sounds, but not a lot. But apparently seeing the actual curse in class had broken some memory block.

“Tell me, Son; it will help,” he encouraged. The only way past this was to barrel straight through it.

“I heard James yell that He was there and for Mum to take me upstairs. Then I heard the door bang open and this high horrible laugh,” Harry began in a low whisper as the calming draught began to take effect. “Then I heard Mum plead with him when he told her to get out of the way.” Harry wasn’t looking at Severus, his head leaning on the older man’s shoulder, but if he had he would have seen Severus grimace and pale as his son related his wife’s last, brave, very Gryffindor moments. “She said no, to take her instead. He told her to get out of the way again and she wouldn’t move... so he raised his wand and killed her.” Harry didn’t like saying the curse’s name; he never had ever since he knew what it was and what it had done to his family. “Then he just laughed again as she fell before sending it at me... then all I could feel was pain.” He burrowed deeper into his dad’s robes, seeking out the homely scents of the dried herbs and spices that always clung to the black fabric.

Severus held Harry tighter in his grasp, tears running unabashed down his face as he shared in his son’s grief and pain. After several moments, when he felt the teen’s grip slacken, he gently kissed the top of the boy’s head and let him sit up.

“I want you to take some Dreamless Sleep tonight. You know how it works. Did this feel like the dream you had in August or was this just remembering?”

Harry shook his head. “It didn’t feel like August; it felt like I was finally remembering that night – although I’d rather not,” he added with a frown on his face.

“As do I, but what’s done is done. Better to face the reality, eh?” he asked, stroking a finger down his son’s cheek. Harry nodded in agreement and took the required sip from the potion vial his father handed to him.  He scooted back down under the covers that Severus straightened out and re-tucked around his son, watching as the potion took effect and Harry succumbed to Morpheus’ calling. He took a moment to clean the clotted blood off of Harry’s forehead, checking the scar to make sure it had closed back up, then tucked the bottles into the drawer of Harry’s night stand and dissipated the bubble.

The other boys were all in their beds and, if not asleep, at least the curtains were drawn around their beds creating a semblance of privacy. He quietly left the dorm and traversed the winding stairway until it delivered him into the Common Room where he found Minerva keeping watch by the fire, a tea service with a bottle of Ogden’s finest resting on the table in front of her, two steaming cups with a plate of Fig Newton’s were ready and waiting.

He smirked before joining her on the divan.

She twitched her head skyward, “How’s the lad?”

“Resting. We’ve known for awhile that the Dementors made him recall his mother’s death but before, all he could hear were her cries right before the Dark Lord killed her. Moody’s lesson caused the rest of the memory to surface and that was his nightmare tonight – recalling the entire bloody incident,” he spat.

Minerva’s lips thinned as she listened to her friend. She reached out, placing a hand on his arm for a moment in commiseration before returning to her tea.

“I’m so sorry, Severus. Lily was so brave that night...”

“Yes; yes, she was,” he murmured in agreement.

They sat there, silently drinking their tea and staring into the fire while their thoughts remembered fallen loves and comrades.

****

“No Quidditch?” Ron exclaimed as he stared at the new notice on the board. “How could they cancel Quidditch?”

“Oh, Ron, really!” Hermione exclaimed with a little huff of exasperation. “There won’t be time for it! Not with the tourney going on! And there will be all those extra students attending classes – it won’t be fair to them to hold Quidditch championships during the time they need to be studying for the tourney. So we have one year off, what’s the big deal?”

Ron looked at the girl as if she’d grown an extra head. “Hermione, it’s QUIDDITCH!”

She just huffed at him and turned to walk out the portrait hole. Ron looked at Harry to see if he backed him up, but Harry just shrugged. He loved flying; loved the freedom that being on a broom gave him where it was just him, the broom, and the wind. He could pretend for an hour that there was no madman after him, that he wasn’t known for defeating said madman when he was a baby by reflecting a curse, and where he wasn’t expected to be bloody superman, or a bloody evil genius (depending upon which way the press was leaning that week).

But it wasn’t the end-all of his existence, either. After three years of Oliver Woods’ fanatical leading of the Gryffindor team, Harry was actually welcoming this chance to just being able to fly for the fun of it.

Ron could see he wasn’t going to get any support from his best friend and turned to harangue at his twin brothers instead who obviously sympathised with him.

Harry chuckled to himself and followed Hermione out the portrait hole and down to breakfast, pausing to give Crookshanks a pat on the head when the Kneazle had wound itself around his legs. A purr sounded from the feline, and then he had let Harry go.

****

Dumbledore nodded to himself before getting up to pace in front of the window, passing Fawkes’ empty perch. Everything was in place for the tournament and he felt confident the outcome would benefit the greater wizarding world.

****

October 25th, 1994

Dear Harry,

As you can see by this bird, I’m hiding out someplace warm and sunny. It feels so good after the cold of prison and my bones are finally losing some of their chill.

I’m sorry to hear about Moody’s class; he’s a gruff one, and he was one of my instructors when I was studying to be an Auror. Sounds like he’s gone further around the bend over the past few years – he was quite paranoid when I knew him, but it kept him alive! He has a lot of experience, so learn what you can and try to ignore the rest.

I can’t tell you where I’m at, but an owl will always find me – just don’t use yours, she’s a bit conspicuous, if you know what I mean.

Stay close to your family – yes, Snape. As much as I hate to admit it, he has your best interests at heart and is a good – father. See, I can say it.

Stay in touch, Harry,

Padfoot.

 

Smiling, Harry folded up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket before letting the Macaw in front of him have some food off of his plate and a drink from his pumpkin juice; he was done eating in any case. It had taken the bird six days to get here from wherever his godfather was hiding out. Quite a ways, then, he thought. He eyed the colourful bird – conspicuous indeed.

This afternoon the other schools were arriving, and the champions would be chosen at the feast in two days. Already the professors were hurrying through their own breakfasts in order to start classes quickly so that the House-elves could get the Great Hall ready for tonight. While Harry was looking forward to the foreign students arriving, he was actually looking more forward to heading home right after the feast – his father was taking him tonight to visit his mum’s and James’ graves on the anniversary of their death. He had never been to the little village where they were buried, at least that he could remember, and this was an opportunity that he wasn’t going to miss. They would return in time for the feast where the champions would be chosen, but Severus wanted them to have a weekend together as a family, honouring a family anniversary.

Harry watched as the exotic bird took flight, a bright spot amidst the greys and browns of the regular post owls.

Hermione paced beside him as they headed for Charms, Draco and Ron catching up.

“Who was the bird from?” his brother questioned.

“Padfoot,” Harry whispered. “He sent me a note. I’ve been corresponding with him for awhile. Haven’t heard from Professor Lupin, but my godfather is keeping in touch,” he explained passing the note to Draco so he could read it.

“He’s still on the run, isn’t he?” Hermione asked as they turned the corner on the third floor.

Harry nodded. “He is; with Wormtail getting away, there’s no proof to his innocence. He did tell me he’s someplace warm, though,” he said, grinning. The group joined the queue outside Flitwick’s classroom and were soon ushered in for a shortened class time.

****

“That’s it, TIME!” Snape called out. “Quills and hands down, now.” He surveyed the room to make sure that everyone complied. Shortened class periods today meant not enough brewing time – thus a perfect time for a pop-quiz going over all that they had supposedly learned in the last eight weeks. And they were easier to grade than essays, an absolute bonus!

His sons were grinning at each other; they must think they did well. Well, they had better done so! A flick of his wand and the parchments were floating up to neatly stack themselves on his desk just as the bell rang.

The group of fourth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors hastily grabbed their book bags and quills and jostled quickly for the door – except for Draco and Harry who stayed seated, although they did put their quills away in their bags.

He raised his eyebrow at the two teens. “Well?” he asked.

“The other schools aren’t going to be here for a couple of hours, we wondered if we could grab our brooms and go fly around the pitch?” Harry asked.

“Why did you leave your brooms in my rooms, again?” he queried.

“Because there’s no Quidditch this year and we wanted them to stay safe in here rather than in the broom shed,” Draco explained.

“Alright, go get them, but be back in time to change into good robes – and don’t forget to grab a sandwich!” he said, raising his voice to be heard as the boys raced through his office and the connection to his rooms, Harry hissing a quick hello to Salazar and his serpent companions. He quickly followed to make sure they did as he asked, and was gratified to see the bags on the floor behind the couch, robes hung up neatly on the stand, Draco slapping together sandwiches in the kitchen area while Harry was rummaging in their room, grabbing the brooms off the walls over their beds, and some warm jumpers as well.

“Dad, you want one?” Draco asked, lifting the bread board in his father’s direction.

“Ham and cheese, please. I believe there is some fresh fruit in the crisper, if you could dish some up on the side,” he directed, placing the stack of quizzes he’d gathered over the day on his desk. Draco nodded and quickly plated up the requested lunch, then handed Harry his meal while they headed out the door. Severus accio-ed the plate to his desk, un-stoppered his red inkwell, pulled out his favourite marking quill and sat down to a quiet afternoon.

****

“Yes!” Draco cried as he flew through the middle ring just ahead of his brother whose laughter was ringing around the pitch.

“That’s only one win to three of mine, O Brother Dear,” Harry sweetly pointed out.

Draco growled playfully then reached into his pocket where he pulled out their practice snitch. He waved it in front of his brother’s face then activated and tossed it in the air where it took off to hide in the late afternoon sunlight. They gave it to the count of twenty before they began to search for it. Part of the game of searching for the Snitch was to see what kind of stunts they could pull off at the same time, so they feinted each other, did corkscrews through the air, Harry even tried to stand up on his broom as if it was a surfboard – but quickly sat back down when the snitch buzzed under him and teased him along. He stretched out along the broom handle, one hand at the ready to grab the fluttering ball and grinned with sweet satisfaction when the ball smacked into his hand.

He looked up to gloat at Draco only to find his brother sitting stock still on his broom and looking off into the distance at a large greyish-brown blob in the sky that was slowly getting bigger. Harry floated up to sit beside him, staring at the dot as well.

As it got bigger, the blob resolved into several pairs of flapping wings which seemed to be pulling a humongous carriage behind it. The wings turned out to belong to winged horses, much like the fabled pegasi of old.  These specimens were formidable creatures, muscles bunching under their gleaming hides as their legs pumped – as if they were galloping along the road instead of the air – and the wings cut through the air dragging their burden behind them. As they got closer, Harry could even see the sweat and foam flecking along the chests of the leaders, and hear the grunting of them as they laboured along with their burden as well as the jangling of the silver bells and steel rings of the harnesses. But Harry noticed that they did not seem to be tired or resentful of being shackled to this contraption, instead they tossed their heads proudly, the wings flapping strongly and majestically as if they knew they were favoured steeds.

The horses and carriage soared over the Quidditch pitch, the downdraft from the wings tumbling the boys on their brooms as they scrambled to right themselves in time to see Hagrid flagging the carriage into a landing on the wide expanse of lawn in front of the school. They could hear the horses all the way to the pitch, great huge breaths being taken, and the stamping of their hooves as they pulled the carriage up to the welcoming committee waiting at the steps to the castle. The boys could see Dumbledore and McGonagall, as well as several other teachers, waiting for the attendant elves to unlatch the doors, unroll the steps and stand aside as the Headmistress of the guest academy descended to the applause of the surrounding Hogwarts students and faculty.

“Merlin, she's tall!” Draco observed and Harry had to agree. The woman was quite statuesque in form, towering over Dumbledore and possibly slightly taller than Hagrid; which was quite a feat as Hagrid was the tallest person Harry had ever known. She was followed by several teenagers, girls and boys alike, who were looking around them as if they couldn’t believe they would be spending the rest of their school year in this institution – and hating the idea. They huddled together under their thin robes and hurried quickly to the promised warmth of the school. Harry noted that one girl with long blond hair – nearly the same colour as Draco’s - seemed to be sizing up the competition instead of being miserable. He decided she was one worth watching. He nudged Draco and pointed her out.

“Relative of yours?”

Draco gave him a dirty look before peering down at her. “No one I’ve ever seen before, but she does look as if she might be related – possibly on Lucius’ side, which would probably make her dangerous to know.”

They began to fly lazily back towards the castle; if one of the schools had arrived, the other would be arriving soon as well and they needed to get cleaned up before tonight’s feast.

A huge gasp from the direction of the castle steps alerted them to something else happening, and a large splash drew their attention towards the Black lake where a large sailing ship, carved to look like a dragon, had appeared; bobbing a bit like a cork as if it had just popped up from the bottom of the lake, water dripping and gleaming from the gunwales. It turned slowly towards the shoreline where it slipped gracefully through the water to kiss the brand new dock that had been installed. Rope lines flew through the air and magically snugged themselves around the piers before a rope ladder was dropped over the side of the ship and several figures descended it before they strode purposefully across the lawn to be welcomed by the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress.

Harry noticed that one seemed to walk a bit wonky and wondered how the boy would fare in the tournament if picked, but dismissed it in a moment as he and his brother headed for a back entrance that led quickly to their dungeon home.

****

Severus was... disturbed. He had forgotten that Igor Karkaroff was now the Headmaster of the Durmstrang Academy. The man was as slimy as they got and he worried about what that meant for the coming months. Of course Albus had greeted him like a long, lost brother – all twinkling eyes, hearty handshakes and cheek kisses. And that worried Severus even more. Severus had stood to the side with the other Hogwarts professors as the contingents of the foreign schools had entered the school to be led to their temporary quarters. Karkaroff had seen him looming there; had shuddered and pulled his fur cloak closer around his body as he’d passed under Severus’ cold, black gaze.

Snape gave the password to the portrait outside of his quarters and strode in looking for signs that his sons were getting ready. The gurgle of water in the pipes assured him that at least one of them was still in the shower.

“You have fifteen minutes, boys!” he called down the hall before passing into his own bedroom to don his black silks and cast some cleaning charms on his body. A quick shaving spell removed his five o’clock shadow... that reminded him that he would need to teach Harry and Draco that spell soon – Harry especially.

Both boys had gone through puberty this past summer and it had been quite funny sometimes to hear their voices crack at the oddest times, but that also meant that facial hair would start showing up soon, and while Draco could get away without shaving his white blond hairs, Harry’s would, unfortunately, start showing much sooner. He grinned to himself; it had been quite funny to hear the squeaks – but both of their voices had settled much deeper; Draco’s in a tenor – high baritone range, and Harry’s had deepened to a comfortable baritone. He wasn’t matching his father’s tones yet, but it wouldn’t be long.

He tied his hair back with a silk ribbon, made sure his wand was secure in its arm brace and with a final tug on his coat to settle it correctly, went to knock on the door to the boys’ bedroom.

Draco opened it to admit him and he was pleased to see his son dressed smartly in freshly pressed black robes with the blue lining denoting a member of Ravenclaw House. Harry’s scarlet lined robes were laid out on the bed and he could hear the water running in the sink of the attached bathroom.

“He’s just brushing his teeth,” Draco explained, before heading back over to his bed to tickle Onyx with an ostrich feather. The cat rolled over to bat at the offending object. “He should be out in a minute.” And sure enough, the water shut off and Harry hurried out, his long hair plaited neatly down his back, the ends still a bit damp and curling, but not dripping.

Severus held up the robes so that Harry could slip in them quickly then turned the boy around so he could make sure his school tie was straight. A quick snug-up of the knot was all that was required and he let his hand linger on Harry’s shoulder for a proud moment then he summoned Draco in front of him for a similar check, although he really needn’t have bothered; Draco was always impeccable in his dressing and his toilet. Hmmm, was that a bit of peach fuzz under Harry’s lip? He looked closer – yes, it was. Guess that talk would take place this weekend. He sighed inwardly; he had missed so much of Harry’s childhood with Lily’s hiding of Harry... but the last two years had given him a precious gift, and at least he got to participate in the raising of his son during his schooling years. That was a blessing. The adoption of Draco had just completed the family unit.

Harry hissed at Silicia and she wound her way up his offered arm to hide under his jumper sleeve. Severus nodded in satisfaction and led the little family out into the dungeons to join the rest of the dungeon residents in heading to the Great Hall for the feast.

****

“It’s Krum, Harry! Victor Krum! I didn’t realise he was still in school – I bet he becomes their champion for sure! I wonder if I can get an autograph?” Ron exclaimed as witches and Quidditch fanatics around him were doing the same, hastily patting pockets for quills or bits of parchment, as the contingent from Durmstrang entered the Great Hall. Apparently the student Harry had noted with the wonky walk was the famous Bulgarian Seeker. Who’d have know?

Students craned their necks to see where the group would end up sitting, and there were groans of disappointment when the warmly clad foreigners were seated at the Slytherin table.

Harry was mildly interested, but not as bad as Ron who, upon seeing the famous seeker enter, had nearly shaken Harry out of his boots in his enthusiasm. He was amused to see the Durmstrang students peering around at the Great Hall and checking out the feast tableware, commenting on the fact that the chargers were real gold.

“Thank you and welcome, students of Durmstrang, and welcome to your headmaster, Igor Karkaroff!” Dumbledore was saying, recapturing Harry’s attention. Polite applause filtered throughout the room.

“And now we have the students from Beauxbaton’s Academy, led by their headmistress Madame Maxime!” Dumbledore announced.

Heads swivelled again as a group of eight students floated into the hall behind the very tall woman. The favoured in this group seemed to be the blond girl that Harry had spotted earlier. Every boy in the room seemed to latch onto her with their eyes, and even Ron had begun to drool a bit until Hermione hit him across the back of his head, making him reel into Harry and knocking him out of his trance.

“She’s a Veela!” Ron exclaimed.

“Oh, Ron, really! She’s just a very pretty girl. Right, Ginny?” Hermione asked her best friend. Ginny just shrugged her shoulders.

“She could be part Veela – the hair tends to follow that trait,” she pointed out helpfully. Ron grinned triumphantly.

“See, Hermione – she could be part Veela – Merlin, they’re sitting at Ravenclaw!” he hissed, clearly upset that none of the new students were sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione harumphed at Ron and turned her attention back to the head table where Dumbledore was still standing.

“Shhh, there is something else happening!” she chided her friends. They looked towards the Headmaster and saw that he was welcoming several Ministry officials to the head table. There was Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch whom they had met at the World cup, and in Mr Crouch’s shadow huddled Percy Weasley looking as priggish as ever.

The friends joined in during the cordial applause after the men were introduced and it was explained that they, as well as the three headmasters, would comprise the judging committee during the tournament, then gasped as the tables suddenly overflowed with hundreds of serving dishes. Hermione, who’d been to many places in Europe and eaten at restaurants that featured exotic cuisine, was in her element as she regaled her seatmates with the names and ingredients in the new dishes that were mixed in with the standard English fare.

Ron had turned his nose up at the sauced fish, as had several of the other Gryffindors, and had waved it away gratefully when some of the French guests had asked for it.

“How can they eat that?” he whispered to Harry, who just shrugged. He was stuffed to the groaning point and couldn’t see even eating any of the rich deserts that had just popped up, although Ron was acting like he had a hollow leg again and piled three different confections on his plate, licking frosting off his fingers before digging in.

“I wonder how they will choose the champions?” Hermione muttered ignoring Ron’s table manners. “I wonder if they have to take a test, or demonstrate their spell prowess... or ...” Harry knew how – he had read it in the books at the Manor – but decided to keep it a secret and let his friend natter on with her theories. He was amused to see if she would figure it out before it was announced.

Soon enough, Dumbledore came forward again as a large pedestal with an ancient vessel standing upon it was levitated to stand in the centre of the room.

“Welcome to all of our guests from the prestigious schools of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. The cup you see before you is known as the Goblet of Fire. Once it is lit, it signals the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament. All eligible students – that is, those who are seventeen as of tonight – will be able to submit their written names into the cup for consideration. On Sunday evening, after dinner, the cup will choose one champion from each school to compete in the tournament.

“Now, beware, this tournament is not for the faint-hearted. It is dangerous, highly competitive, and requires an extraordinary grasp and understanding of magic. But for the winner there shall be glory beyond all glory.” He paused to let the excited murmuring die down. “There will be three tasks that must be completed, and each task must be completed before the champion can go on to the next challenge. These tests are designed to test magical strength, magical knowledge, and the ability to think clearly in adverse conditions. Because of the complex nature of these tasks, the participants will be exempt from end of year exams.” Chattering could be heard around the hall at this announcement and Harry could see that the thought of skipping exams was very enticing to some people.

But Hermione was livid. “I don’t see why that should excuse them from exams! Really, that is just unfair!” She had crossed her arms in a huff and was glowering at her headmaster.

“The cup shall be warded to prevent underage participants – so don’t even try to hoodwink it, for it will know,” Dumbledore continued, a twinkle in his eye as he gazed over his glasses at a certain pair of twins.  There was grumbling to be heard, mainly from the older sections of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, and Harry could tell that, as far as Fred and George were concerned, the gauntlet had been thrown. “So, let us begin!”

Dumbledore raised his wand and, with a short incantation, lit the Goblet. A pale blue fire began to dance around the rim of the cup, and the glow of magic surrounded the plinth and Goblet. Another wave of the wand and a circle of white fire surrounded the table, approximately three feet away.

“This is an age circle,” The headmaster explained. “It will prevent any underage participants. Do not attempt to bypass it,” he warned darkly – but somehow still with that damned twinkle in his eye. “Now, off to bed with you, and Happy Hallowe’en.”

He returned to the head table to speak with the officials there, and several of the older students came up to where the Goblet was to take a closer look before heading for their dorms. Harry was joined by Draco as they waited for Severus to finish his conversations and take them to Godric’s Hollow.

“Interested?” Draco asked his brother.

“Some, but not enough to enter. I meant it last month – I don’t need more fame; got enough, thank you very much,” he tossed back. They grinned at each other then stood as their father bore down on them.

“Let’s go before I get caught by another person,” the man snarled as he hustled the two boys ahead of him through the doors and out the Great Doors.

A harvest moon shone down on them as they hurried over the gravel and dirt road to the main gates. If they’d had the time, Harry would have walked slower in order to enjoy the silvered scene, but his father was determined to get off the grounds before he was cornered again. Just outside of the gates, under the watchful eyes of the flying boars, Severus gathered his sons close to his body to shield them as they side-along Apparated to the little town where Harry had been born.

Harry stumbled a little as they landed in a dark alley. A cat hissed at their sudden appearance before streaking off into the gloom, banging up against trash bins. Severus did not move away until he made sure the boys were steady on their feet, then he began walking carefully to the sidewalk ahead of them, eyes darting back and forth to make sure their passage went unnoticed.

Determining the coast was clear, he led his sons along the quiet lane, devoid of activity – even late night trick-or-treaters. As they approached the village square, Harry took note of the monument that stood dead centre, dark and looming in the night sky. A typical war monument, he gasped when it began to change before his very eyes as they drew alongside. Severus stopped to let the boys take in the sight. He had seen it before, but it was – startling – to see the war pillar change into a statue of James and Lily holding a baby Harry in her arms, a lightening bolt etched on his forehead.

“I can’t believe someone did this!” Harry whispered, horrified and fascinated at the same time. The rustling music of dry leaves scuttled along the street at his feet, pushed by the wind, as he stood there mesmerised by the sight.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Draco asked. “And the Muggles don’t even know it’s there,” he said admiringly at the charm work involved. “Did you read the inscription?”

Harry just nodded his head, staring at his mother and step-father. The likeness was so well done, it seemed as if they would look down at him at any moment and climb down off the pedestal to join the family – as it was meant to be. Harry had to rein himself in so that he didn’t reach out to the figures standing before him. But they kept staring down at the baby in Lily’s arms, never moving – and he felt his father’s hand clasp his shoulder and squeeze it in sympathy before urging him to keep on moving down the street.

Harry looked back over his shoulder, but the statue had resumed its Muggle facade: an obelisk with names of the fallen on all four sides, each side representing a different conflict that men of the village had participated in; so he turned back to following Severus.

Walking along the leaf strewn streets, they passed a forlorn looking lot; picket fence in great need of repair and white-washing with the gate barely hanging by its hinges. A house stood back from the street, surrounded by a weed choked yard – but Harry could tell that at one time someone had cared for the place.  The remnants of carefully plotted gardens were visible through the brambles. The pale moon came out from behind a cloud to illuminate the darkened abode – showing the disrepair and the evidence of a fire that had nearly obliterated the top floor. Harry seemed drawn to the dwelling and stopped outside the gate. His father came up to stand behind him, Draco a little ways back.

“That was your home, Harry; where you lived that first year. The destruction you see happened when He tried to kill you.”

“The spell rebounding did all that damage?” Harry asked incredulously, looking back to really look at the little cottage.

“Yes. That’s why everyone was astounded when Sirius found you alive.”

“Sirius? He found me?” Harry peered up at Severus.

 “Yes, and Hagrid came soon after – Dumbledore sent him when the alarms went off in his office. Sirius handed you to Hagrid, the cat to Bathilda Bagshot, and took off without any explanations. Hagrid took you to Hogwarts to have Madame Pomfrey look you over before sending you on to – well... you know the rest.” He fell silent as they all gazed at the ruined edifice before continuing on their way as the silver orb slid behind another cloud bank.

They kept walking until they came upon a little church, the moor-mist deep on its grounds. Harry could tell that it was just a small parish church, quite old with ivy and moss creeping up the stone sides. Large oaks in the churchyard, denuded of leaves due to the season, hunched over the chapel’s roof and cast weird moving shadows that almost seemed human in their movements. The moon came out from behind a cloud, bright enough to let them see the kissing gate that led to the small local graveyard. Draco shivered in the cold, damp air – feeling a bit spooked as they entered the hallowed ground.

Severus sent a spell at the hinges to keep them from making any noise and alerting the Vicar to their visit. He gently pushed it open, motioning with his other hand for the boys to hurry along. Latching it behind him he unerringly led them between the rows of headstones, both ancient and recent, that were semi-hidden under the blanket of mist until he came to a row headed by a rowan tree. He began walking along it, silently counting the headstones in his head when he heard a gasp behind him. He turned to find Draco staring at a set of gravestones, worn with nearly a centuries worth of age.

“Dumbledore lived here?” the boy stage whispered. Harry whipped around and trotted back to where his brother was standing. The names on them read Kendra Dumbledore and Ariana Dumbledore. He looked over questioningly at his father.

“They were his mother and sister. The family came here to live right before Albus entered school or soon thereafter. They passed away right after he left. That’s all I know,” he said apologetically. “Harry, your parents are right down here,” he indicated. Harry took one last look at the graves of Dumbledore’s family then followed his father down to his own.

Severus came to stand solemnly before a large headstone, still relatively new looking with its polished red granite face. It was large enough to encompass the two plots before it, an urn of autumn mums standing beside it. And there was his mother’s name side by side with his step-father. He walked between the plots to kneel before the stone, laying his hand on the letters, letting his fingers trace their paths. He was barely aware of his father quietly leading Draco down the path, leaving Harry to his privacy.

Harry dashed away the silent tears that had flowed, and sat cross-legged on the ground laying a hand on the each of the mounds.

“I wanted to come and say good-bye, Mum, and thank you to you both for protecting me. I miss you so much, even though I never really knew you – but I think my heart knows you and remembers you; at least that’s the feeling I get.

“I found Dad, Mum – and he’s been great! And I have a brother, too! Draco has been great – we share a lot of the same experiences growing up. Ummm, yeah, I didn’t really have a great childhood – Aunt Petunia wasn’t really the best guardian, you know. But then Dad rescued me and we found out we were related and Draco was disowned by his father... well, it was a tough year but we all survived and we’re a family now. I just wanted to let you know that...” he continued to tell stories of living with Severus and Draco and how much he enjoyed school, letting the warmth that seemed to radiate from the graves engulf him and calm him. Eventually he wound down, and just let his hands rove back and forth, petting the grass in his silence.

A discrete throat clearing behind him caused him to look up to see his father.

“They’re warm,” Harry pointed out. “The earth – it’s warm, like a hug.”

“A spell left behind just for you, Harry. No one else feels that when they come here to visit – it’s keyed just to your magical signature.” He offered a hand to his beaming son, helping him to stand up and shake out the tingles in his legs from sitting so long on the ground, and brushing the dried leaves off of his cloak.

“You don’t even feel it?” asked his son sadly. Severus shook his head.

“No, I feel something else... I feel her love. It’s something she did – when she knew she would probably never survive. Left behind these spells for us – keyed to her death. That warmth you felt – the hug like feeling; that is her love for you. Mine is different, but it is still her love.”

They stood there a moment, Severus’ arm around Harry’s shoulder as they gazed one more time at the graves before turning away and rejoining Draco.

“Can we come here every year?” Harry asked as they began the long walk back to the apparation site.

“We can try our best,” Severus said, hurrying the boys along. It really was quite late and he wanted to get to the Manor as quickly as possible. Having Harry out like this was courting trouble. His son seemed content with his answer and Snape sighed with relief when they reached the alley without any attacks materialising from the shadows. Making sure that the boys were ensconced in the folds of his robes, he turned them all and disapparated with a snap of displaced air.

 

****

Severus let out a sigh as he let his body relax into the thick cushions of the wyvern-hide covered wing-back chair in his study. Several small pops along the spine surprised him as he settled in and rolled his shoulders and neck to ease their tension. A glass of Veela-made brandy was warming idly in his hand as he let the warmth from the fire wash over him, chasing the chill of the evening at Godric’s Hollow away from his bones. The little trip had gone surprisingly well and he felt as if he had been able to give Harry some closure on that part of his life.

The boys had headed upstairs immediately upon arrival at the manor house, quietly making plans for the next day. He wanted them to have a care-free weekend, just the three of them together – no worries, no schoolwork; just three bachelors banging around the old place.

He smiled to himself, sipping on the brandy, as he realised how proud he was of his sons. Had it only been two and a half years that he’d had them under his permanent care? It seemed like they had always been there – and yet he could remember the day he had rescued Harry from his cupboard as if it was yesterday. He shook his head and quaffed the last of the brandy. Grabbing a book for the evening, he quenched the parlour fire and let his feet carry him upwards to the second floor where he checked on his sleeping sons - twitching covers here, smoothing back fringes there – before continuing to his suite.

****

Harry felt around him, stretching his magic to the limit, eyes closed – wand at the ready. In his minds eye, his three opponents creeped towards him: Draco from the left, Runeskin from behind and his father from the two o’clock position. They appeared to his conscience as shadows – but shadows with form and substance; shadows that he could feel magic from and could tell when their intent was to fire a spell.

He mentally prepared three spells in succession and when he sensed that Runeskin was about to make a move he murmured “Reverso Protego, Stupify, Protego, Rictumsempra, Protego, Petrificus Totalus, Incarcerus, Incarcerus, Incarcerus.”

He stopped whirling around, arms spread wide, one knee down on the floor and his body leaning forward, hearing the thumps from all around him as his family fell, bound, on the mats. He opened his eyes and gazed at the sight, a giggle breaking out involuntarily as his father glared at him.

“I did it!” he said, sounding incredulous. But then he began jumping up and down. “It was fantastic!” he crowed, ignoring the grunts from his family. But eventually he came down with a hurried “Oh, sorry, Dad...” and he quickly finiteed the spells.

Severus sat up, rubbing the circulation back into his arms and legs – damn, those ropes had been tight – then grinned as his son hauled him upwards.

“Well done, Harry! That is your best display yet. Now we need to work on wordless and wandless casting so that you can never be taken by surprise – nor be powerless if your wand, or your ability to speak, is removed!” He helped Runeskin up as Harry lent a hand to Draco, the other boy slapping Harry on the back of the head.

“That tickle spell was powerful, Harry – got through my ability to block it!” Draco complained.

“I know – you were cackling like a Hyena!” Harry chuckled, ruefully rubbing the back of his head; his brother could hit hard.

“Was not!” Draco protested.

“Trust me, Son, you were,” Snape verified – amused as Draco blushed like a girl and went off grumbling to the showers. Harry just raised an eyebrow at his brother’s antics before grinning at his father and following – grabbing a towel on the way.

Runeskin bowed formally to his employer before disappearing with a crack, leaving Severus to twitch his wand at the mats, cleaning and stacking them before he grabbed a towel from the pile by the door and heading off to his own rooms to shower. They were due back at the castle at three o’clock – just in time to watch the champions chosen.

****

Draco looked around his immaculate room, making sure everything was in place and he hadn’t forgotten anything that needed to go with them. It had been a relaxing weekend, but now the fun was to start with the students from the other two schools staying on for the entire year to cheer their champions on to victory. As he made one last check in the mirror, he wondered who the Hogwarts champion was going to be. He’d heard several Ravenclaw seventh-years contemplating it, and he knew a few of the more thick-headed Slytherins were going to put their names in... Then there was Diggory from Hufflepuff, his name had been bantered around the Common Room. Luna seemed to think he had a good ‘aura’ – whatever that meant in her parlance. He wasn’t quite sure the traditional meaning of that word and her interpretation meshed.

A knock at his door heralded Harry. “You ready?”

“Yeah, is Dad?”

Harry nodded his head, setting his braid swinging madly across his back. “He’s heading downstairs now, so we’d better hurry.”

Draco grabbed his school bag, a fine leather case that Severus had gifted both his sons with before school had started. Their initials were imprinted on the fine Dragonhide leather in black ink underneath a Hogwarts crest – their house quarter prominently coloured. It was a sturdy case, with an Everlight charm and Extension charm to make the inside much roomier than it looked. There were special holders for ink bottles and quills – so you wouldn’t be caught flat-footed looking for them at the start of class, and many dividers to keep things organised. All in all, one of the best presents – short of his adoption papers – Draco had received from Severus.

The boys raced down the hallway, careening around the corner to the main hallway that led to the grand staircase, each taking a side and seeing who could pound their way down to the bottom the fastest. They came to a screeching halt in front of their father who had their cloaks over his arm, his own already clasped around his thin shoulders. He just shook his head and offered them the coverings.

“So, who won?” Harry asked.

“It was tie. How many times have I asked you two not to run at breakneck speeds through the corridors? Never mind, I really must remember that you are teens and that you have no frontal cortex...” he mumbled to himself. The boys just looked at each other and shrugged as they took his arms and prepared for Apparation.

****

The Snapes entered the entrance hall just in time to join the throng of students that were heading into the Great Hall. Severus made his way up to where the teachers and judges were all standing, taking a position where he could surreptitiously watch the entire hall. The tables had all been pushed back against the walls, and the students were milling around the floor still looking at the blue-flaming goblet.

Harry and Draco headed to where most of their class was standing.

“Hey guys,” Harry said as he approached the group.

Hermione gave him a welcoming smile as the brothers joined them. “Hi, Harry; Draco,” she greeted. “Did your visit home go well?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, keeping an eye out for Dumbledore who had yet to enter the hall. “Dad took us to Godric’s Hollow so I could visit the Potter graves. Dumbledore had lived there – did you know that?” He was startled when she gave him a piercing look.

“No, I did not! That wasn’t in ‘Great Headmasters of the Century’,” she exclaimed, clearly perturbed at this obviously important omission. “Well, you missed some fun around here,” she added then launched into a description of Fred and George’s attempt at bypassing the age ring around the goblet. “...And they were rolling around the floor, accusing each other of botching the potion! As if they could think that a simple ageing potion would defeat the greatest wizard of our times!” she huffed. But then she broke out in a giggle, “It was funny to see them in the long white beards and grey hair – they looked just like Dumbledore!”

Harry smiled at the description then shushed them as he saw Dumbledore enter the hall. “My galleon’s on Angelina,” he whispered to George who was standing behind him.

“I’ll mark you down,” the older Weasley murmured back, keeping his voice low so that any sharp eared teachers wouldn’t catch him. He made a tick in his little black book as Harry passed him a galleon from behind his back. “Draco?” George asked.

The Ravenclaw slipped him a galleon as well. “My money’s on Diggory,” he stated.

“That’s an interesting bet... I’ll give you better odds on that one – twenty to one,” he offered. Draco looked impressed and passed the Gryffindor four more galleons.

“You know something we don’t, Snape?” Fred asked shrewdly.

Draco shrugged. “I just like his chances.” Then he grinned back at the twins, “And I really like those odds.”

Fred was about to say something, but Dumbledore used his sonorous to silence the room effectively.

“The time has come for the choosing of the three champions; one from each school. Whoever is called must come forth and go to the trophy room at the back of this hall where you will await further instructions from the judges. Remember, this is a magically binding contract – once your name is called, you are bound to complete this tournament. So, I hope you all remembered that when you placed your name in the goblet.” He let his eyes travel over all the students, pinning them in place as the flames died down behind him.

A gasp from the crowd alerted him to the Goblet fire brightening and towering above the cup, eventually throwing a piece of paper in the air. He turned and caught it as it drifted down to him and unfolded it to read the name.

“The first champion chosen is... Victor Krum who will represent Durmstrang! Congratulations!” The room broke out in spontaneous applause as Krum came forward from his position near the Slytherin side of the room, shook Dumbledore’s and Minister Crouches hands, accepted a hearty back slap from his headmaster then followed Professor McGonagall who led him to the door of the trophy room. As soon as she had closed the door behind him, the goblet coughed up another slip of paper.

“The champion for Beauxbaton’s Academy is... Fleur Delacour! Well done, Miss Delacour, well done. Yes, follow the professor there,” he advised her as she walked along the line of applauding students and faculty, a victorious smile plastered on her face.

“And the third and final champion, the representative for Hogwarts is...” he paused as the room dropped to a dead silence except for the twins who were imitating a drum roll in the background as he unfolded the singed piece of paper, “Cedric Diggory!”

The Hufflepuffs went wild with joy, jumping up and down and congratulating Cedric as he was passed up the line to land in front of the headmaster, grinning madly at his good fortune.

“Congratulations, my boy!” Dumbledore heartily said, pumping his hand and pointing him in the direction of Professor McGonagall.

Draco was smirking as Fred was made to count out one hundred galleons to him, grumbling all the while.

“How in Merlin’s name did you know, Snape?”

“I listen, Weasleys, I listen!” Pocketing his money he turned to say something to Harry when he saw his father begin stalking forward from the line of teachers, a frown on his face and his eyes on the Goblet. Draco looked at the Goblet and an irrational fear took him as it began to smoke and smoulder again. This was impossible, there were already three champions! He elbowed his brother to point his attention to the centre of the room. Harry’s eyes widened as he watched the Goblet send a fourth fountain of light toward the ceiling again.

Dumbledore turned calmly to the Goblet as it spewed another piece of paper again before the light went completely out rendering the cup lifeless, just as Severus reached his employer. He looked over the old man’s shoulder as he opened the piece of Muggle lined notebook paper, the spiral holes still visible and ragged from being torn out.

Severus’ heart clenched in icy fear as the name was revealed, a strangled “No!” being ripped from his lips as “Harry Potter-Snape” was read out loud by Albus.

“Severus, control yourself,” the headmaster chided under his breath. “Harry Potter-Snape, present yourself!” he commanded, his voice stern and uncompromising as he looked at Harry with ice-cold eyes.

Severus watched as Harry was pushed forward by his classmates, jeering already starting from the other houses.  Ron had grabbed Harry’s arm with a sharp question to his mate, and Harry had yanked his arm back with a loud, “No, Ron, I didn’t enter!” Draco had a sympathetic, yet protective look to his face as soon as his brother’s name was called. He had squeezed Harry’s shoulder before giving him a push towards the centre of the room, and the scowling headmaster.

Harry’s face was bone white as he stumbled forward – already not looking like a champion, but instead - a pretender. He was looking back at his brother, pleading with his eyes. Draco gave him a little smile and shooed him along; Hermione stern-faced, but nodding encouragingly, stood beside the Ravenclaw.

Severus reached out and took Harry’s shoulders for a moment, sending love and encouragement to stay strong along their bond. Harry took a huge breath then, regaining his equilibrium and, nodding at his father, followed his head of house to the entrance to the trophy room – trying his utmost to ignore the catcalls and boos that followed him. McGonagall looked nearly as white in the face as he did, but it appeared she believed he had somehow managed to put his name in as the look she gave him was not supportive at all. He swallowed hard and avoided her eyes as he walked past her into the room, hearing the clang of the door behind him sound in his mind like a prison cell door swinging closed. Or perhaps a coffin cover? His eyes darted around as he hesitantly entered the room, seeing the happy, excited faces of the other three participants swapping tales of their own exploits in school so far.

Cedric looked up as Harry entered the room.

“Harry? What are you doing here? Do they need us?” Harry could only look at this older boy who had befriended him on the way to the Quidditch finals and found that the words couldn’t come out of his mouth. He was saved from trying to force speech past his lips when he heard the adults enter the room. Severus swirled over to him immediately, standing behind his son and lending him his support as Dumbledore rushed over to them. The headmaster’s hand darted out to reach for Harry’s arm only to be stopped by Snape’s wand being levelled at him.

“Stand away, Albus – you will not touch him! This is not his fault – you know he wasn’t here to put his name in the cup; we’ve been gone since the damn thing was lit and did not return until just an hour ago!”

“Vhat is he saying?” Victor pushed forward. “Is this leetle boy to compete? I don’t understand.”

“Compete? Noooo – ve vere chosen, ve three!” Fleur complained. She turned as her headmistress ducked her head under the lintel and entered the room, keeping hunched over as the room was almost too short for her. “Madame, vhat haz happened – vy is this boy competing?”

Madame Maxime, Karkaroff and Crouch tight on her heels, quickly joined the rest in the centre of the room – Moody not far behind, his eye spinning madly in its socket.

“Yes, Albus, I demand an explanation – vhy was this boys name tossed out of the Goblet? He clearly is not old enough to compete!” Maxime logically pointed out. “If you get two champions, ve should as vell!” she argued.

“The goblet can not be relit until the next tournament!” Dumbledore explained. “I was trying to ascertain what happened when everyone came in, please let me continue,” he barked, effectively stunning everyone to silence. He turned back to Harry, focusing his twinkling blue eyes on the lad. “Now Harry, tell me how you got your name in the cup without triggering the age line. Did you have an older student enter you? Did you levitate the paper into the cup?” he suggested.

Harry was shaking his head vigorously, his plait dancing along his back as he leaned back against his father’s chest.

“I didn’t do anything, headmaster, honest. I didn’t want to compete – I was happy that there was an age limit, it meant I shouldn’t have to participate – I would be safe this year!”

“Safe? Vhat is he talking about, Dumblydoor?”

Dumbledore gave Harry a calculated look before murmuring, “Nothing, he means nothing.” He then gathered his courage and half-turned toward the tall woman. “Madame, may I present Harry Potter-Snape, currently a fourth-year at my institution.”

“Not long,” Snape muttered to no one in general. “I’m going to remove him – and Draco – forthwith, once we get this mess cleared up.”

“Well, obviously he is lying!” Karkaroff protested. “He had to have found some way to circumvent the protections! I demand a redo, or allow us all two champions apiece!” The foreign students and Maxime were nodding vigorously in agreement.

Dumbledore was shaking his head. “He is not lying, Igor. He has not been here all weekend, as his father stated. I know this for a fact.”

“Yes, so obviously someone powerful bypassed the cup’s protections,” came Moody’s voice from the shadows. “Someone managed to confound a powerful magical item, sneak Potter-Snape’s name in under a fourth school and made it look as if he did it himself. The lad isn’t old enough to know how to do that, nor do I think any of the students could have done this. It takes great power to do that; something only very few people possess and all of them are in this room,” he intimated, letting his eye roam around the room. Everyone felt as if they were being x-rayed, and a few shivered in dread.

“You think someone here in this room did this?” Igor laughed derisively in the Auror’s direction. “You’re mad!”

“So people have said, but I stand by my statement. Now, while the boy’s father is magically strong enough for this, and I wouldn’t be lying if I said I wished I could pin this on him – he was with his son and therefore could not have done it, so that leaves the five of us. Anyone want to ‘fess up?” He looked around expectantly then chuckled at the stunned looks on their faces. “Yeah, I didn’t think so...” he muttered.

“This is ridiculous!” Maxime announced. “Dumblydoor, I insist you remove this boy from the competition!”

Dumbledore looked over at Minister Crouch. “Bartemius? You are the official in charge; can we get Mr Potter-Snape out of the competition? We need a ruling.”

Crouch was silent for a moment, the other adults and champions watching him like carrion eaters waiting for the right moment to pounce on their dinner. He was obviously searching his vast memory of the competition’s rules and regulations.

He finally looked up, his visage dour and rigid. “The instant that piece of paper with the boy’s name on it was entered into the cup, and not rejected, it constituted a binding agreement. He must compete or the magic will eliminate him.”

“So, vhat’s the problem vith that?” Krum asked. “He vill be eliminated from the contest!” The other two students nodded their heads in agreement.

Crouch gave a pitying look at the Durmstrang champion. “You misunderstand me, Mr Krum; by elimination, I mean killed by the magic.” He looked back towards Snape who had pulled Harry in closer, holding his shoulders protectively. “I am sorry, he must compete or die,” was his final pronouncement. The room was silent as the words landed like a lead balloon on the assemblage. Unsaid was the notion that if Harry competed, he would not survive.

Snape broke the silence, his voice steel-edged, brooking no forgiveness. “I give you fair warning now, Albus: if anything should happen to Harry, I will leave and take the boys with me. Do you understand, old man? This is the final straw!” he growled, a personal shield springing up around him and Harry, totally unconsciously as his protective streak took physical form – pushing everyone away from them.

Albus acknowledged the ultimatum. “Very well. Bartemius, please read the rules to the champions.”

Crouch approached the cluster of the three champions and Severus holding onto Harry. “You will have three tasks to perform over the course of the year – the first task will be held the twenty-seventh of November. At the completion of this challenge you will be given a clue that you will have to solve before participating in the second task in mid-February. The third task will take place in June after school tests are completed. Remember, this is a measurement of your prowess and skills, not your friends or classmates. You should not accept help in any of these tasks. The press will be informed of the Champions selected and you can expect them here in a few days time. I bid you good luck gentlemen, lady,” he said, bowing stiffly twice to the group. “I will see you in twenty-seven days.” He stepped back only to be joined by Dumbledore as he escorted Mr Crouch out the door, asking if he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t like to spend the evening here?

The other headmasters collected their champions and herded them out the door, leaving Mad-eye, the Snapes and Diggory.

Cedric walked up to the smaller boy, holding out his hand.

“I trust you, Harry. Good luck this year.”

Harry peered up at the taller boy then shook his hand. “Thanks, Cedric. I wish you luck too, and hope you win – you’re the real Hogwarts champion here, not me.”

The older boy frowned. “Harry, don’t underestimate yourself; the cup chose you, it must think you are qualified enough to handle these tasks,” he assured the young Gryffindor.

“I hope so,” Harry murmured. Cedric smiled sympathetically, then turned and left the room to join the Hufflepuffs who were waiting in the Great Hall to honour him.

Moody stumped out of the shadows to join the Snapes. “Come with me, you two, we need to talk.”

Severus raised his eyebrow, his son matching him level for level, as they followed the old Auror out the door.

The odd looking trio of individuals walked, or stumped, their way through the Great Hall picking up Draco on their way. Ron and Hermione clearly wanted to come along as well, but Severus sent them back to their Common Room to await the dinner hour.

Not willing to argue with his professor, and still a bit put out by Harry being chosen as a champion and thus eligible for the grand prize, Ron pulled a reluctant Hermione out of the Hall and the Snapes headed down to the dungeons with Alastor in tow.

Severus shed his cloak as they entered his quarters, the boys following suit and heading over to the settee in front of the fire. Severus poured himself a double finger of Fire-Whiskey offering the same to Moody who declined.

“If you will excuse me for a moment, Alastor, I need to get something from my office.” Severus walked down the corridor behind the portrait of Salazar and returned a moment later with a bit of parchment in one hand. He tucked it next to him as he took his seat. At Moody’s questioning flick of eyes, he just shook his head slightly, focusing on his whiskey instead.

When they were all seated in front of the fire, Severus looked over at his guest with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Moody, you called this meeting,” he pointed out.

“Aye, I did.” He pierced them all with his magical eye. “There is dark magic behind this, Snape – someone wants your son killed, or tested,” he declared.

Severus nodded. “That much is obvious – the question on the table is who?” He looked shrewdly at the ancient and battle-scarred warrior. “I could almost suspect you, Moody.”

The bark of laughter that came out of the Auror was not pleasant, but it was obvious he was amused. “And I was about to say the same of you, Death-Eater!”

Harry and Draco bristled at the accusation. “My dad’s not a Death-Eater!” Harry growled. He was still wary of the gruff and frightening professor, but no one was going to accuse his father of being one of Voldemort’s followers.

“Down boy, it’s just a game we play. I’ve been after your father’s hide for years – but it’s all been a feint to keep the authorities on their toes. We both belonged to the Order back in the day. He’s told you about the Order of the Phoenix?” he asked them.

Both boys nodded.

“Good,” he said approvingly. “Well, your father and I saw eye to eye on a number of things; didn’t think he should have... Do they know?” he directed at the wizard. Severus indicated they did. “Well, I didn’t agree with him becoming a spy in Voldemort’s camp. But that’s neither here nor there – what’s done is done. Alright Snape, ask the question,” he demanded.

“Not yet, Alastor – it has five more minutes to go before the hour is up.” He turned to look at his sons sitting on the couch. “Draco, why would I have to wait an hour after Professor Moody has drunk something?” he asked in a perfectly reasonable, professorial tone of voice; as if he were conducting a class.

Draco hesitated a second before answering. “Polyjuice?” Harry almost smacked his head; he should have known that answer as well – especially after Hermione had wanted to brew it second year as an experiment, but the ingredient list had been prohibitive and she had eventually given up on it.

“Very good. I have already ascertained via another method that this should be Alastor Moody, but I felt it prudent to await the allotted time – just to make sure. Of course, if he had accepted a drink from me, he would have found it laced with Veritaserum.” He smirked over at his colleague, toasting him slightly before finishing his own finger of Whiskey.

Alastor’s laughter boomed out, slapping his thigh in merriment. “Well played, Snape! You haven’t lost your touch. Now how did you verify it was me? I didn’t feel the touch of any spell,” he asked curiously.

“And you wouldn’t  - I have a magical artefact... and I’ll just leave it at that, shall I – hmm?” He had darted his eyes toward the boys.

“Of course, of course – Well, the time is up, and no bubbling skin – ask your damn questions, you know you want to!” He practically threw himself against the back of the chair, getting comfortable.

“Not particularly, but I have to complete the thing. What did Lily tell you and I, in confidence, on October fifteenth, nineteen eighty-one,” Severus asked.

“That her son was the subject of a prophecy and that they were going under the fidelius charm that night, after the Order meeting,” was the answer.

“And what was her pet name for me?” He grimaced as if it pained him – or possibly embarrassed him to ask.

Moody cringed; he hated remembering this name – it was so not-Snape. “Curry.”  Snape nodded, satisfied; this was not an impostor. Even someone surgically altered, or under a glamour, wouldn’t know either of those answers. Moody only knew because he had happened upon them when they were still married and having a quick snog in a curtained corner. In both instances, Moody had been bound by a wizard’s oath never to reveal the contents of either of those occasions except to Snape. He hoped that the red on his face would be discounted as reflection from the flames in the fireplace.

Harry looked curiously at his father. “What was all that for, and why did Mum nickname you ‘Curry’?”

Moody answered, a bit too gleeful in Snape’s estimation, for him before he could steer Harry away from the embarrassing question. “Your father was giving me a little test of questions that only the real Alastor Moody would know the answers to; he was checking to make sure I wasn’t someone else under glamour or surgically altered to resemble the real Moody. All part of making sure I am who I say I am.  And in answer to your second question – Lily nicknamed him that when they were courting. She said his kisses were as hot as curry.” He smirked as Severus snorted from his corner.

“That’s enough, Mad Eye; you don’t need to traumatise the children,” Severus chided the Auror, but he winked at the boys keeping his face absolutely stoic. Draco nearly choked trying to keep his laughter inside. Harry just looked worried, as if he hadn’t really heard the good-natured ribbing going on around him.

Sparing a glance for Harry, Severus looked at Moody again. “Well, we’ve established your credentials –you were saying?” he prompted.

“We need to protect your son, Snape. Harry’s name was deliberately placed in that cup. I’ve been hearing rumours, boy, rumours that He is rising again. There was a disappearance this summer at the Ministry – Barty’s own secretary went to Albania and hasn’t been heard from since. An old caretaker in Little Hangleton was found murdered in the Riddle Mansion – not a mark on him, but the reports say his facial expression matched those of the deceased owners, fifty-years earlier. Aye, you mark those names laddie! Gives ye goose-flesh, don’t it?” He leaned forward and the boys leaned back against the soft back of the couch. “This has all the ear-markin’s of  -  Voldemort.”

Severus looked over at his son, concern etched on his face. “Harry?”

“How am I going to compete, Dad,” Harry rushed in. “I’m nowhere near as talented as the other three – this is suicide waiting to happen! At this point I don’t care who put my name in – although if I find out who...” He left the threat hanging as he was sure his father felt the same way. He swallowed hard before continuing. “I just don’t see how I can survive. They must really want me dead!” He had managed to calm himself down during the meeting in the trophy room and stay that way on their journey to their rooms – but he was on home territory now, and allowed to let loose with his emotions. He was terrified, and he didn’t know why things kept happening to him. Apparently it was too much to believe he would have a nice normal year at school; whatever that meant.

“We agree, Harry. It’s either that – or someone wants to test your mettle.” At that suggestion, Alastor hummed thoughtfully and Severus could tell that the old man’s wheels were turning that one over. Severus came over to sit on the coffee table in front of Harry and took his son’s trembling hands. “Which is why I think we – Alastor and I – are going to set up training sessions for you in the exercise room.” He looked over at the Auror to get his assent. “We are going to increase your spell repertoire and increase your defensive and offensive battle strategies. The first task is a mystery – not even the teachers are aware as to what it is, but we can at least train you in spells that will help you in many situations.”

“Correct! What do I always say in class, boys?” snapped the old Auror, pounding his crutch on the ground.

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” they parroted back at him.

He grinned – not a pretty sight at all – and leaned forward towards the boys. “I train Aurors, Harry. If I can train them, I can train you. Starting tomorrow we will begin your sessions. I want you down here at your father’s training room by five-thirty. Bring your books and uniform with you, you will be down here until first bell!”

“Yes, sir, Professor Moody,” Harry said reluctantly. What in Merlin’s name had he gotten himself into this year?

****

Harry eased himself under the shower head, moaning as the scalding hot water hit his sore muscles. He had been meeting with Professor Moody and his dad in the training room every morning for two weeks. Moody had been teaching him a new spell with every session - constantly drilling him until he could perform it cold and then running through all his spells in quick succession, building a repertoire that would rival the smartest of the Ravenclaw seventh-years. He was also impressed with Harry’s ability to sense his surroundings by feeling the magical and energy fields around him, praising his initiative with a congratulatory thump that had nearly sent the teen sprawling. He took that burgeoning ability and was building on it; expanding the distance and accuracy.

The spells he was learning were dead useful, but weren’t generally taught until NEWT years; summoning spells, breathing spells, banishing spells, hexes and jinxes that took out opponents without permanently hurting them. And he was just beginning.

Then there was the physical preparation! Moody had him running circuits around the grounds and Quidditch pitch, building up his stamina and endurance. Yesterday, he’d begun adding weights to the regimen, using resistance training as well as free weights. Afterwards, came a full day of classes and running around all seven floors of the castle carrying his books. The only way he was going to be able to get up in the morning and not be bent over like an old man was to take the steaming hot shower and let the water loosen the muscles before they seized up on him.

A pounding on the door to the shower room startled him. “Harry!” came Neville’s shout.

“What is it?” he shouted back.

“An owl came for you, and he looks mean!” Neville heard a bit-backed curse mumble through the door, but the water turned off and a moment later, a towel-wrapped Harry came walking out, Waist length hair dripping on the ancient wood floor.

“Oy!” Ron yelled when the damp strands dripped on him. Harry mumbled an apology, casting a quick spell that dried his hair. “Hey did you just do that wandlessly?” the boy asked, jealousy still tinged his words. Harry had yet to have it out with Ron – he hadn’t had much time where the two could talk alone for two minutes. As it was, Ron was beginning to act like a git again, just as in second-year. All he could see was Harry was getting all the glory again.

Harry just gave him a look, and Ron raised his hands in mock surrender, a scowl on his face, before Harry stalked over to his bed where his father’s owl eyed him, one foot held imperiously forward for the boy to remove the note and small package.

Harry kept an eye on the wicked beak belonging to the large Sooty Black owl as he carefully untied the note and set the package to the side. That would be the crowning glory of the day, if Edgar bit him. Reading the note, he sighed heavily.

“No response,” he told the owl who took off immediately through the cracked open window which Seamus slammed closed immediately afterwards.

“Bad news?” Dean asked.

“Tournament stuff; reporters are coming tomorrow,” he let his dorm mates know. “And the package is some muscle balm my dad made for me, thank Merlin!” Most groaned in sympathy to both statements. Ron just turned his back to the other boy, feigning attention to his Transfiguration book. Harry, and in fact all of the other champions, had been hounded for the last two weeks by reporters popping out of the woodwork, sometimes literally in one case when a ghost reporter had cornered Fleur coming out of the girls loo. She had instinctively let loose with a volley of Veela-created hexes that were designed to immobilise wandering spirits and it had taken the combined efforts of Dumbledore, Maxime and Flitwick to unfreeze the hapless third estater. Ron apparently saw it as more of Harry basking in the attention, never mind that the Snape scion deliberately went out of his way to avoid the journalists.

This, however, was a planned jaunt with ministry officials in attendance as well, and by the tone of his dad’s note, Severus was not pleased at all.

Of course he wouldn’t be; it was during Harry’s Potion class.

Harry smirked as he tossed the note on top of his nightstand and changed into his pyjamas after smearing some of the balm on his aching parts – it stank, as did most of his father’s concoctions – but it worked.

****

Harry had barely been in class for ten minutes when Ginny came into class to summon him to the reception hall. Trying very hard not to snicker outright at his dad’s look of annoyance, Harry followed the younger girl upstairs to a large oak panelled room.

Dumbledore, the Ministry officials, the other three Champions, their school officials and the press were all milling around a table spread with a mid-morning tea. Harry dropped his bag in a corner and straightened his tie before wandering over to stand near Cedric – the only person who was remotely friendly to him. McGonagall handed him a cup and saucer with a tight little smile and he gratefully sipped at it, thankful for something to do. He used it as an excuse to observe the other people in the room. He knew most of them – the school and Ministry officials – but he was surprised to see Ollivander the Wandmaker there, and there were several reporters as well. Lovely.

Harry hated reporters – ever since the Dursleys’ trial. They always blew hot and cold depending upon which way public favour towards him went; they fanned the flames making a mountain out of a molehill. And there was the worst of them – Rita Skeeter – and her sidekick photographer who followed her around like a panting puppy. He wished his dad could be there – Rita was scared of Severus – but the others didn’t have their parents present, neither should he. He could be just as grown-up as the rest despite being a head shorter... .

Soon enough, the end of morning class bell ringing seemed to be the signal Dumbledore needed to call everyone to order and Crouch made a little ceremonial speech concerning the weighing of the wands. Harry really wasn’t paying much attention; he was keeping an eye on the reporters – one of whom was inching his way towards the student bags heaped in a pile on the floor. Harry watched from his place at the end of the line as the man tried to sneak a hand towards the pile. Soon a yelp startled the adults into looking at the cad and Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on the reporter. Harry quickly snugged his Wand into his holster, a small smirk playing on his face as he watched the interplay.

“Mr Beasley, can I help you with something?” the Headmaster asked, casually walking over to the corner.

“No sir, I – uh – I thought I saw a mouse scramble behind the bags.” He straightened up, trying to look important and self-righteous, while exercising his fingers behind his back to work off the stinging hex they’d been hit with. “Wouldn’t want someone to get a nasty surprise when they put their hand in, did I?”

“Hmmm, perhaps – let me see.” He made a movement in the air with his wand, and nothing happened. “Apparently you were mistaken, Richard. No rodents there. Let us leave this area and come back over here to where the action is, shall we? That’s my boy!” Dumbledore said, ushering the frowning man away from the pile.

“Ah, Mr Potter-Snape!” came the voice from in front of Harry, snapping his head around to face Ollivander. “Your wand please?” the old man said, holding out his hand. Harry dropped his wand into his hand, quickly running it through a fold of his robe before handing it over.

Scowling, Ollivander peered at the wand, hefting it in his hand and then sighting down the shaft. “I’ve heard of some of your escapades so far, Mr Potter-Snape. She has been helping you, eh?”

Harry nodded his head. “Yes, sir – no problems at all,” he assured the Wandmaker.

“Excellent!” he chanted a short word and water filled a conjured goblet, then another incantation turned it to wine. Ollivander grinned in satisfaction as he took a sip. “Perfect. Thank you, Mr Potter-Snape.” He returned Harry’s wand and turned away and began speaking to Dumbledore and Crouch. Harry knew Seamus would kill to get that spell! He’d been trying to do it for three years straight! Harry snapped his wand back in place and turned to get ready to leave only to run into – Skeeter. He groaned.

“Harry! So nice to run into you, we must have a little chat – don’t you agree? Lovely, just come in he---what!” she screeched as a pale hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“Take your talons off my son, Rita. I’ve warned you before – you apparently don’t listen!” Snape pronounced; his voice low, perfectly controlled but full of encased anger. Harry could have cheered from the rafters. As it was, he let a small grin grace his face, lighting up his eyes.

“I listen well enough, Snape, but I decide whether to follow the advice or not,” she declared, releasing Harry – a bit reluctantly. “You can’t stifle the news, Snape! I have rights!”

“Do you need another lesson in journalistic etiquette? Especially with Minors? The other three are of age and do not need a guardian present. My son is fourteen – still underage. No questions without my express permission, Rita,” he chided – as if she were a student that needed reminding of school rules that should have been memorised this far into term.

“Severus, Severus,” she said shaking her head to cover a blush of anger. “You were always a hard nut to crack. Fine,” she sighed, as if giving in – albeit reluctantly, “shall we find a place to sit down?” she simpered at him. Harry nearly sicked up at her sudden switch-ups in attitude. Did she really think she fooled people?

His father led them over to a seating of chairs, taking the most comfortable one, seating Harry next to him. “And please use a normal pen, Ms Skeeter – wouldn’t want your flowery phrasing to get in the way of the story, would we?”

Her smile froze on her overdone face as she dropped a green Quill back into her clutch and retrieved an ordinary turkey Quill pen, snatching her pad of paper from the air where it had hovered beside her. “Lovely,” she exclaimed, “where to start...”

****

Harry found Hermione pouring over the Prophet a few days later when he came up to breakfast. It was a rare day that he’d been let out early from his morning routine in time to actually catch some food in the Great Hall rather than a hurried repast in his father’s quarters after taking a shower.

“Anything worthwhile?” he asked, piling his plate up.

“Not really. Background information on all the champions – you included, although your write-up is more factual than the others...”

 Harry chuckled. “Yeah, Dad insisted on that. You should have seen that reporter change her tune when Dad showed up at the Wand Weighing. Anything I should know about the others?”

“Well, apparently Fleur is a part-Veela...”

“Oh, yeah – in fact her wand’s core is a hair from her ‘Granmuzzer’,” Harry butted in. Hermione nodded her head.

“That’s what the article says, and apparently she is somehow related to your brother – although the connection is pretty deep in their ancestry.” Harry’s eyebrows popped up at that revelation – he couldn’t wait to tease Draco. “Krum, while brilliant on the broom, is apparently not as bright in the academic side of things,” she continued. “You’ll need to watch him on a purely physical aspect. He was held back a year during his fourth year – had to repeat it,” she pointed out. “Cedric, I think, is going to be your toughest competition.”

“Moody thinks so as well. He says for all Ced’s being an easy-going guy, he’s quite brilliant and is the top performer in his class. We already know he’s talented on a broom – but Draco says he thinks we’re actually about equal in that regard. I hope so!” He sighed before dishing himself some more egg casserole and snagging a few rashers of bacon. Hermione placed two triangles of toast on his plate as well and he gave her a little smile in thanks.

“How’s the training going?” she asked, pouring him some pumpkin juice in his goblet.

“Hard, but it’s working. I have a ton of new spells... and Professor Moody says that they’re going to continue the training all year as each challenge builds on the previous one – or at least that’s what the books all say,” he pointed out. Hermione snapped her head around to stare at him.

“Books? What books? I looked all over the library and there weren’t any!” she complained.

Harry looked at her sheepishly over the edge of his goblet as he washed down some of the toast points. “Umm, Dad has some books on past tournaments at the manor. Draco and I read them last year and I kind of read them again when I went home at Hallowe’en... Don’t look at me like that, Hermione! If you really want to read them, I’ll ask Dad if I can lend them to you after Christmas...”

“Harry, you’re not going home for Christmas,” she said patiently, as if explaining to a child.

“What do you mean? Of course we are – we always go to the manor at Christmas,” he explained. “Why should this year be any different – just because I’m a ‘Champion’?” He etched quote marks in the air around the word, sneering as he said it.

“Didn’t you see the post in the Common Room on Monday?” she queried, tilting her head a bit to look at him quizzically.

“Hermione, I barely have time to use the loo in the dorms much less read the notices on the board!” he groused, digging into his rapidly cooling eggs.

“Well, if you had you would have seen that there is going to be a ball Christmas Day to celebrate the tournament. It’s open to fourth-years and above and all the champions – including you – are required to be there. With a date.”

Harry spewed egg over the table at that little announcement. His friend giggled. “Nice one, Snape!” She waved her wand and the bits of breakfast covering the table vanished. Harry hastily wiped his mouth with his serviette and stared at the brunette.

“You can’t be serious! A date? I’m supposed to find a girl to take to this thing? How in bloody hell am I supposed to do that? Ow!” He scowled at her when she slapped him. She did this regularly to him and Ron when they swore.

“Harry, you simply ask her!” said the girl in exasperation. He stared at her for a moment, green eyes blinking owlishly behind his round frames.

“Hermione...” he started.

“And before you begin,” she said, raising her hand to halt him. “I already have a date.”

“Damn. Ow!” He winced as she slapped the back of his head again at his use of language. That spot was getting real sore. “Stop that!”

“Stop swearing and I will,” she said piously. “Now, you have six weeks to find a date; I’d start thinking if I were you – and don’t wait until the last minute, all the good catches will be caught. Oh, and you’ll need good robes for it as well.”

“I already have dress robes,” he mumbled. “Dad bought them last year – don’t know why, haven’t worn them yet. They’re down in his rooms.”

“Well, you might want to make sure they still fit.” She swung her legs over the bench and stood up grabbing her bag and daily pile of extra books. “We need to get going or we’ll be late!”

Snagging a small stack of toast, Harry followed her as they joined the general traffic heading out of the Great Hall and he began to worry about who he could ask to the bloody ball.

Draco was about to kill one Ronald Weasley. Really, the redhead was being a total git; hadn’t he learned back in second-year that Harry was not out for glory? So, Draco had watched, and listened, and plotted. He may have a Ravenclaw badge on his robes, but deep at heart he was a true Slytherin. And he had the help of two of the castle’s premier pranksters. Fred and George Weasley were willing to join with the young Snape for the betterment of their brother, and for Harry’s peace of mind. They just hoped they would be able to accomplish their goal before either Harry totally gave up on the beast, or before Molly Weasley discovered what was going on.

Mind you, the twins had originally opted for just sending her an owl – but Draco had convinced them to forestall that measure in favour of out and out humiliation. Feeling that their brother needed bringing down a peg or two, the followers of Loki agreed.

So, they had met in secret in an old unused dungeon classroom – one that the twins had purloined early in their careers at Hogwarts (with Snape’s tacit agreement – as long as none of the products saw the light of day in his classroom) - and concocted a time released potion that would remind Ronald Weasley why his family and friends felt he was being a total arse.

Operation: Prat was a go.

****

Harry was starting to feel the pressure as the days quickened towards the first task of the tournament. While his core set of friends – minus Ron – were supportive of him and believed him when he said he hadn’t manoeuvred his name into the cup, the rest of the school and the foreign guests were not convinced. Soon enough banners, flyers and buttons proclaimed the schools support of the one true Hogwarts champion – Cedric Diggory. Dumbledore would just tsk tsk his way through the corridors and turn a blind eye toward it all. Severus and Hagrid would remove them when they saw them, but in minutes they would be replaced.

Severus had banned any tournament related propaganda in his classroom which included the flyers, buttons, newspapers and magazines. If he saw them, they were confiscated and destroyed. It was the least he could do to try and make things less hostile for his offspring. And Harry truly appreciated it – but it was one classroom. Even McGonagall hadn’t gone as far as confiscation. She hadn’t even banned the buttons – which alternated from “Support Cedric – Hogwarts’ true Champion” to “Potty-Snape – Hogwarts’ true Cheater”.

His brother and friends had taken to walking with him to and from classes as attacks had begun again. Nott – his own personal fiend – had even tried to hex him one day when his back was turned. The Slytherin hadn’t counted on Moody’s spinning eye catching him in the act and before the hex could leave his lips, he had been turned into a white rabbit and spent the rest of the day locked up in a cage on Moody’s desk in the DADA classroom – the subject of colour changing spells when Moody felt like it. When he was finally released and turned back, he looked as if a rainbow had sicked up on him.

The fact that Harry’s best friend, besides his brother, thought that he was a glory hound was like someone had taken a knife and twisted it in his gut. He had tried to talk to Ron, but the boy had given him a cold shoulder and walked away without saying a word. Every so often, however, Harry could feel Ron’s eyes boring into him and we would turn only to find the redhead scowling at him.

And then there was the problem of finding a girl to take to the dance. Harry was having no luck at all. It didn’t help that most of the school wasn’t talking to him, or that most of the eligible girls in the tower were already dating someone and thus had guaranteed dates. Those that weren’t, had dates before the first week was gone.

The foreign girls weren’t any good either – they considered him an interloper into the championship and thus beneath their notice.

He was beginning to think he’d have to ask Eloise Midgen...

Even his brother had a date! And he wasn’t telling Harry who it was – which Harry considered very unfair; what if he tried asking the same girl? Can you say ‘Awkward’? But Draco insisted that he wanted Harry to be surprised and felt fairly confident that Harry wouldn’t ask this girl.

And speaking of Draco, he was being awfully secretive these days. But Harry really didn’t have time to worry about that, he had an extra session down in the dungeons with his father and he truly needed to get down there. He was so single-minded in his pursuit that he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and ran into a mountain of moleskin, losing his balance and landing on his derriere. He shook his head to clear its ringing, and looked up and up to see Hagrid peering down at him, concern etched on the man’s face.

“’Arry! Yeh alright?” he asked offering a hand up to the youngster.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Hagrid. Sorry about that,” Harry said while straightening his robes.

“Don’cha worry, ’Arry, I twern’t lookin’. I was goin’ teh send yeh a message – can yeh meet me after classes today for tea? Som’mat I’d like teh show yeh.”

Harry thought quickly; he’d missed having his talks with Hagrid. “I’ll see if Dad will let me loose early. I’m on my way there now.”

“Oh, well, yer trainin’ comes first!” His friend looked crestfallen.

Harry hastened to reassure him. “No, no – it should be fine. Really! I’ll see you at five?” Hagrid brightened up, clapping Harry on the shoulder. It was a testament to his training that he was able to hold his ground against the onslaught of the large hammy hand.

“See yeh then and – oh, yeh might want teh bring yer cloak – yer special one...” Hagrid winked at him while whispering.

 “Gotta go, see yeh at five!” Hagrid hustled away leaving a perplexed Harry behind him. But he soon noted the time and had to run in order to make it to his appointment on time.

****

“Concentrate, Harry,” Severus admonished, pacing around his son, arms locked behind his back. “Direct the flow through your fingers just as you do the wand. Feel your core, tap into it, direct it along your arm into your hand and out through your fingers. Imagine the result you want to achieve, aim your focus to that one goal – making the feather rise... Steady... see the feather floating in the air in your head and send your magic through your fingers... very good... higher, higher... excellent. Now direct its path... good...” He watched as the goose quill rose unsteadily into the air as his son wandlessly and wordlessly instructed his magic to obey him. Soon the quill was dancing around the room as if being ridden by a Quidditch player and, when directed, landing safely in the pen stand.

“Well done!” Severus commended, ruffling Harry’s fringe in affection. Harry leaned into the contact, happy that he was finally making headway in this most difficult of magical studies. Severus had been insisting he learn this branch as it could mean the difference between life and death if Harry was ever captured and separated from his wand or put under a silence spell. He could do spells wandlessly now, nearly as adept as with one, as long as he could speak the incantation – but take the voice away and it was like he was a first year all over again. But just then he had finally felt the connection between himself and his core, something his dad and Professor Moody said were integral to him mastering this subject. He felt that now he would be able to make some headway.

“Can I go to Hagrid’s now?” Harry eagerly asked.

“Yes, go to Hagrid’s. I suppose taking tea with him you’ll miss supper? I shan’t be worried then if you miss it – but come back here afterwards.”

Harry nodded and headed down the hall to his room to drop off his book bag and grab his invisibility cloak. He didn’t know why Hagrid wanted him to bring it with him, but he was sure he’d find out soon enough. He tucked it under his jumper and grabbed a heavy jacket, leaving off his robes now that the school day was done. He was pretty sure his father would not approve the use of the cloak and he really didn’t want to explain it, as he didn’t understand the need either.

Slipping out into the corridor, he dodged groups of sneering Slytherins who laughed and flashed their buttons in his face as he hurried past; ‘true Cheater’ burning itself into his brain.

Thus, it was in a bad mood that he gratefully climbed the steps into the gamekeepers hut, sliding onto the oversize bench and inhaling the bracing aroma of the black tea that Hagrid served, Fang sitting contentedly next to him laying his jowly head in Harry’s lap and sighing. Harry obliged the hound by absent-mindedly stroking its head.

“Feelin’ better now?” asked Hagrid, sipping from his own giant cup. “Those students are outta line with those badges, ‘Arry.”

“I know – but there’s nothing I can do. Dumbledore is ignoring them and I think I’m supposed to as well. Besides, they’re right – Cedric is the true champion. I’m just in there because someone cheated the cup and entered my name under a fourth school. It doesn’t matter whether I did it or not – once it accepted my name, I was bound by the contract. At least that’s what Mr Crouch said that first night.” Harry took another long pull on his tea, letting the warmth infuse his system. It was starting to get downright chilly in the Scottish highlands.

“Cedric’s being decent about it, and I really hope he does win,” Harry added.

Hagrid frowned. “Yer not going to be thinkin’ about throwing it in his favour, are yeh – that wouldna be right! Yeh have ter give it yer all, ‘Arry,” the man insisted. He pursed his lips then set his cup down decisively. “Did yer bring yer cloak?”

Harry nodded, patting his stomach to indicate where it was hidden.

“Good. Pull it out an’ follow me, I got som’mat ter show yeh!”

Harry did as the man asked; keeping the cloak around his shoulders, but his head exposed. Hagrid gave him a double look at the strange sight of Harry’s head and braid bobbing along in mid air, apparently not attached to anything as they tramped through the dense underbrush of the forbidden forest, skirting around the outer edges of it until the castle was lost in the gloom behind them. There was still enough starlight and a half-full moon to see where they were going and Hagrid led them unerringly through the habitat he knew so well.

“They be jus’ over ‘ere.” He glanced at the teen next to him. “’Ere now, ye best be coverin’ up. What we’re doin’ is really bendin’ the rules a bit – but the other headmasters have already seen ‘em – so I thought fair’s fair,” he explained, and Harry obliged by pulling the cloak up and over his head.

Harry let his friend ramble on until he came to a screeching halt when he topped a small ridge and looked down into a clearing below him. Four large leathery dragons were bellowing at the top of their lungs as nearly two dozen handlers were attempting to calm them. Some other handlers were hovering above the quartet of irate wyrms, lowering large baskets full of eggs. A wizard was stationed on each basket to guide its placement, their wands holding shields in front of them to ward against the dragon fire that was bathing the large clearing, searing the grass. Harry knew that the grass wouldn’t grow back for a century at least, so permanently damaging was dragon fire.

Against his better judgement he inched his way closer, past Hagrid who was talking to a familiar looking redhead. He could hear mumbling just on the edge of his hearing – something familiar in its sound. He watched as the basket riding handlers manoeuvred the egg-crates into place over rocky nests that were already radiating heat that shimmered in the cool evening air. Harry could feel the warmth as far away as he was.

When the baskets were in place, while the handlers were keeping the furious mothers away, the sides of the baskets were vanished leaving the eggs toasting nicely on the stones. When the wizard had checked to make sure all the eggs were in good shape, he Apparated to the other side of the enclosure and the handlers let the dragons approach their nests.

The crooning mothers rushed forward, breathing fire over their eggs – an almost gentle flame, Harry noted, that danced and surrounded the hard shells. They began murmuring to themselves as they nosed each egg and used their talons to turn their progeny over, arranging the eggs to their liking before settling in over them. Harry could feel that understanding of them just beyond his reach – why did he feel like he could understand what they were saying... saying... Oh.

Dragons were related to snakes.

They spoke Parseltongue – or at least something close to it. If he could just concentrate some more – He strained his magic to its limit, calling on his ability to understand the obscure language and realised that the Dragons were speaking more of a dialect or heavily accented Parseltongue, which was what was hindering his ability to understand them; but really, it was just a matter of getting used to the phrasing more than anything else.

He crept closer until he was leaning right up against the fence that ringed the clearing. It was much hotter this close to the heated nests and Harry could feel the sweat trickling down his face, back and under-arms.

Yes, now he was sure he could understand these immense flying cousins of the snake. Mostly they were mumbling to themselves about how rude their humans had been to move them to this cold, damp forest where there wasn’t any decent rock to heat properly for a nest. They didn’t really talk to each other – in fact the handlers had made sure that each Dragon was as far away as possible from its neighbours.

Harry could see why – each Dragon was a different breed. He could hear the redhead talking to Hagrid behind him and pointing out the different dragons. There was a Welsh Green – a sweet little dragon who sang lullabies to her eggs as she hunched over them. A red Chinese Fireball was to her right, a dragon who kept her tail towards the rest of her companions as she fussed over her eggs checking each one meticulously and carefully placing each egg in a complicated pattern of light and shadow that graced her nest.

Next in the circle was a Norwegian Ridgeback. This one didn’t talk much, just glared at everyone around it with a baleful red eye, smoke wreathing around its head in a sulphurous cloud. She guarded her eggs as if they were gold, studded with precious stones. She kept mumbling, “Stay back, you better stay back if you know what’s good for you...” She made a lunge at an unsuspecting handler who’d gotten to close. “I told you stay away, you misbegotten son of a ...” But Harry missed what she was going to compare the handler to as the last and most ferocious of the brooding mother dragons had let out a roar as she charged after a hapless wizard who’d apparently made some mistake.

He wisely Apparated to safety as other handlers attempted to settle her down and move her reluctantly back to the nest, her tail thrashing dangerously close to the men and women tending her. This was a Hungarian Horntail – not the nicest of dragons when it wasn’t nesting; but get it when it was brooding and the dragon well known for its hot temper became even worse and the temper could ignite at a single mis-spent word on anyone’s part. She was the most dangerous of all the dragons. Harry shuddered just looking at her and the wicked spikes that covered her from crest to tail tip. He would definitely not want to get anywhere near those things.

He looked around and realised that Hagrid had wandered off – Harry knew not where. Harry understood – his friend was mad about Dragons and Harry was out of sight, thus out of mind. To have this many so close to him was a dream come true. Harry was lucky the moon was still up. He gave one last look and listen to the large wyrms then slipped away back-tracking his trail through the forest edge and coming out near the hidden Slytherin entrance to the grounds.

He cautiously opened the door, stealing away through the shadows in the darkened corridors until he reached his father’s quarters. He stuffed his cloak back under his jumper and gave the password to the portrait, jumping through the opening when it appeared, closing the oak door behind him.

He was surprised when he realised he was alone in the quarters, but took advantage of it to go stow his jacket and cloak in his room and head into the kitchenette to see if there was any food to be had. His head was still in the fridge when he heard the door opening to the quarters. A wordless Protego protected him from the hex his father had sent towards his hindquarters earning him an impressive huff from the man. This was a game Severus and Moody had devised to help in his overall training: ambushing at any time, any place. And all the teachers were allowed to participate – which many took advantage of, to Harry’s chagrin. Cedric – in a show of solidarity – requested he be included in being ambushed for the extra training it provided.

Fleur and Krum just thought the Hogwarts’ students were bonkers.

“If you were still hungry, why didn’t you come upstairs?” Severus asked, slipping his wand back into its sheath.

“Used the Slytherin entrance – I figured Dinner was over. I just got back. Hey, Draco!” Harry greeted his brother as he pulled his plate out of the icebox with some fruit and a sandwich gracing it. He placed this on the counter and went back to pour a glass of pumpkin juice. He looked closely at his brother as he turned back to the counter. “You look like the cat who’s eaten the canary; what happened?”

“Your brother decided to retaliate against Mr Weasley this evening,” Severus explained, settling in at his home desk and getting ready to attack a pile of essays. Harry’s eyes opened wide.

“Ron? What did you do, Draco?” he asked, a warning tone in his voice.

“Nothing too permanent – actually it wasn’t entirely me. His brothers helped.” Draco was grinning to his ears as he leaned on the opposite side of the counter watching his brother eat. He tried to sneak a grape and got his hand slapped for the effort. “We’ve been planning it for awhile, hoping he would come around – but as he hadn’t it was time for something else to happen.” He peered down at his nails, inspecting them for dirt.

“I hate to ask – but what did you do?” Harry played along.

Draco perked up as if given an early Christmas present. Harry got the impression that if his brother had been a Hufflepuff, he would’ve been clapping his hands and bouncing up and down in glee. “Well, I was the diversion so that the twins could pour the potion into his goblet. It worked like a charm...”

Draco had positioned himself at the edge of a crowd heading into the Great Hall; perfectly placed to skim the Gryffindor table. Ron was already seated, his full plate steadily making its way into his maw. The twins were seated close by and Draco let himself be jostled into Ron, making the boy choke on whatever was in his mouth.

“Sorry, Weasley – you should really watch where you’re sitting!” Draco drawled, patting the boy on the shoulder drawing his attention further away from the table as Fred dumped the contents of a vial into the boys drink.

Ron was seeing red as he kept coughing on the food that was lodged, so Draco obligingly thwacked him between the shoulders causing the stuck food to come flying out only to lodge on Hermione’s book. She gave the Ravenclaw a look that could have peeled paint before using her wand to vanish the food-bit.

“Sorry, Granger!” Draco apologised sincerely. He really hadn’t meant for that to happen! She waved him off as George offered Ron his cup to wash down the rest as Draco walked on to the Ravenclaw table where Luna had saved him a spot and waited. It didn’t take long before the potion took affect.

After Ron had recovered, he had begun heaping criticism on Draco, and then lit into Harry – speaking in general to the rest of the table’s occupants.

“I mean, really, the git has a charmed life! Survives an attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, rich as a king, gets rules bent for him at every turn – who else has been made a first string Quidditch player the first time out on a broom! And now he managed to cheat the cup and get chosen to participate in the tournament, skipping finals and a chance at all those galleons! And it would be just like him to somehow win, too. Probably by bending the rules once again!” He was working himself into a proper red-faced rant, waving around his fork in emphasis that still had a sausage speared on it.

“Ron, stop it!” Hermione chastised sharply, slamming her book shut in irritation.

“What?” he asked.

“I am sick and tired of hearing you bad-mouthing Harry. I just can’t believe that you think he deliberately found some way to get his name in the cup! When has he ever said he wanted more notoriety? Never,” she pointed out. But he looked at her obliviously.

“Hermione, he gets everything! The rules are constantly bent for him! And he’s rich and famous to top it off! He’s just doing this to get more notice!”

“You don’t learn, do you, Ronald. He would give it up just like that!” she said, snapping her fingers in his face, forcing him backwards on his bench. Hermione was scary when she got in a snit. “He doesn’t need this, and he never wanted it – but now he is stuck with it, and he would appreciate a little support from someone who is supposed to be his friend. This is second year all over!” she ranted in his face before sitting back down, scooting further away from the fourth-year.

“She’s crazy,” Ron said to his sister.

“I don’t think so. I think she’s got it absolutely right. Someone did this to put Harry in danger,” Ginny pronounced to her brother’s stunned face.

“Not you, too! What kind of danger could he be in? Someone always saves his arse anyways; no, he did it – somehow, some way he figured it out.” He stuffed the sausage bit in his mouth and started chewing again. Ginny shook her head and returned to her own dinner. Apparently someone had just told a good joke at the Ravenclaw table behind them, as several were laughing hysterically. Ginny shrugged, continuing to eat and ignoring her brother tapping her on her shoulder. But soon, enough was enough.

“What, Ron?” she huffed.

He looked at her as if she had lost her senses.

“You keep tapping me on the shoulder!” she pointed out, exasperated.

“I am not! My hands are right here!” He held up his hands showing them occupied with a knife and fork.

“Then what... Oh, my...” she said as she turned around, an astonished look on her face. By this time the Ravenclaws were in hysterics and Fred and George were nearly doubled over in laughter as a long donkey tail was swishing back and forth behind the redhead.

Ron looked at her, clearly puzzled by her demeanour until he reached up to scratch his ear and discovered it had moved to the top of his head and was decidedly furry and longer. With a ‘POP’ his lower face morphed into that of a donkey’s and when he attempted to talk, all that came out was a loud, irate bray. The rest of the Great Hall went quiet in stunned appreciation of the prank, then rolls of laughter began as McGonagall shared a look with Professor Snape then, sighing, she got up to slowly make her way down to her Lions’ table.

Hermione looked at him in pity as she gathered up her things to depart. “Well, Ron, it appears you are finally turning into what you’ve been all along: an ass! Perhaps now you will realise what a rotten friend you’ve been these last weeks. Serves you right! Perhaps you should read the tale of Pinocchio to discover how to turn yourself back into a real Gryffindor.” She flounced out of the room with a wink to Draco who had lost the plot with the rest of the room. He managed to salute her and the twins then, still chuckling, dug into his own repast while McGonagall hustled the half-ass up to the hospital wing.

“So, are they going to turn him back?” Harry asked, half-cheering the prank.

“Eventually,” Severus said. “I told the twins to take their time concocting the antidote. I believe Mr Weasley will be stuck in the hospital wing all weekend,” he smirked.

“Shouldn’t someone notify...” Harry began, but Severus held his hand up.

“Already taken care of. If you should hear a small explosion in the future, you will know that his mother has arrived.”

Harry tried mightily to hold back the laughter, but finally gave in, sharing smiles with his brother then hearty guffaws as he pictured Ron. “I hope,” he managed to choke out, “that someone got a photo?”

“Creevey was perfectly placed,” Draco assured him, finally managing to snag a small branch of the fruit, breaking grapes off and popping them into his mouth.

“I want a copy,” Harry insisted.

“Taken care of, and it will be autographed by the twins and I,” Draco snickered.

Harry nodded in satisfaction then cleaned his plate and set it to dry. “So, O devious brother of mine – Wizard’s chess?”

“Best two out of three?” Draco posited.

“You’re on!” Harry headed over to the couch to set up the board and the boys played the night away to the comforting sounds of his father’s quill scratching away in the background.

****

Harry didn’t know why he hadn’t told his father about the dragons, he mused as he lay in bed that night, Draco lightly snoring in the opposite bed. Perhaps it was guilt at knowing beforehand... and he didn’t want to admit it. All he knew was that it hadn’t felt right at the time, and it didn’t feel right to go to his father about it either.  He knew that at this point Cedric was probably the only one who didn’t know what they were facing the following Friday. He fell into a troubled sleep that wasn’t relieved when he woke up in the morning. It just meant one more day closer to his doom.

****

Harry worried all weekend, and never got a chance to warn Diggory until Monday afternoon on his way down to the dungeons for Potions. He saw Cedric in the main entrance, surrounded by a group of admiring Puffs. Harry girded his courage and approached the older boy.

“Diggory, can I talk to you for a moment?” Harry asked.

“Go away, Snape – you’re nothing but a cheater!” One of the groupies said making as if to push Harry away. But Cedric stopped her mid-motion and indicated that Harry precede him to an out of the way alcove.

“Sorry about that,” the seventh-year apologised.

“I’m used to it. Look, I wanted to warn you and this is the first chance I’ve gotten. The first task is Dragons – they have one for each of us,” Harry said his voice low so that others couldn’t overhear.

“You’re sure? You’re not having me on?” Cedric looked alarmed, but sceptical.

“No – I saw them, Friday night. Brooding females,” assured Harry.

“Do the others know?” Cedric looked worried.

“Yes, the other Heads know about it and have most likely already told their champions – you were the only one who didn’t know. Look I’ve got to get to Potions, good luck on Friday.” Harry held his hand out to the older boy who shook it.

“Thanks, Snape, you too. Thanks for the warning,” he insisted, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder.

“Fair’s fair,” Harry said, then with a tiny wave aimed for the stairs to the dungeons at a run, praying he would make it in time.

“Potter-Snape, five points will be taken for tardiness!” Severus stated, his back turned to the class as Harry had skated through the door just as it was closing.

Harry’s face turned red as he murmured “Yes, sir,” before taking his seat next to Draco. He just shook his head at his brother when he raised an enquiring eyebrow and mouthed ‘Later’ at him, preparing for two hours in the dungeon.

Two hours later, and a passable version of a Pepper-Up Potion, Harry was about ready to drop from exhaustion but he shouldered his pack and followed his brother out the door and up to the Great Hall for lunch.

All during the class, Harry could feel someone’s eyes on the back of his neck and when he finally turned to look, caught Ron hastily dropping his head back down to pay attention to his own work. Hermione had nudged him with a pointed look over at Harry, but he didn’t respond and she ended up sending an apologetic look over at her friend. Harry just shrugged in response and returned to his and Draco’s effort.

The scuttlebutt around the Gryffindor common room had been that Mrs Weasley had appeared in the infirmary, mad as a disturbed hornet, and had given Ron a tongue lashing as never heard before in that sanctum sanctorum. Severus hadn’t been far off in his estimation that when she arrived, a bomb would go off. The offending Gryffindor’s siblings were arrayed out in the corridor cheering their parent on as they could hear every word.

****

When Molly came out of the ward, she grabbed the twins’ ears, tugging them along until they turned the corner out of sight from Ginny and Charlie, who was there to help with the Dragons.

“Now,” she whispered, “start complaining as if I’m beating you about the head – but I wanted to thank you two for sticking up for Harry, poor boy,” she lamented as the two started moaning, groaning and generally carrying on, grinning the entire time. When she thought they had gone a bit overboard, she whacked them on their heads – causing them to cry out for real, before sending them on their way.

She said good-bye to her children before making tracks for the dungeons and Severus’ office where she knocked politely on the open door, getting his permission to join him.

“Molly, it’s a pleasure as always,” he said, conjuring some tea and a plate of biscuits. “These are not as good as yours, I dare say, but the elves make a passable cake.” She accepted the offering and sat back comfortably in her chair. “I take it you came to visit your youngest boy,” he began.

“Oh, that Ronald!” she said with exasperation, nearly slamming down her cup into its saucer in her temper. “I gave him a thorough what for, Severus, but I don’t know if it will work. He is so jealous of Harry right now; all he’s seeing is green – in more ways than one,” she hinted darkly.

Severus nodded his head in agreement as he sipped from his own cup. “I was hoping that you’d be able to make him see reason, but will have to accept that he is beyond that at this point. I hope you didn’t chastise the twins too much...”

“Oh, heavens, no. They were only trying to make him come off his high horse, after all – and it didn’t hurt him none to be brought down a peg or two... No, I was more concerned for Harry. You know we think of him as one of our own, Arthur and I – and if you two hadn’t discovered your heritage, we were all prepared to approach Dumbledore and offer to adopt him. But I’m glad he has you, Severus.” She reached out and patted him on the knee – causing to reign in his control so that he didn’t sputter in shock - before rising to leave. “Oh, and don’t punish Draco too much...”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t. Like you said, it was a brilliant prank and no one was hurt except their pride. Like you, I’m worried about Harry... Did I see Charlie here earlier?” he asked as he escorted her through the corridors.

“Yes, he’s here for the tournament, he’s helping with the dragons – didn’t you know?” she asked, peering up at the taller man. He had stopped, as if frozen in his tracks, and gone quite pale.

“What dragons?” he asked authoritatively.

“For the tournament, they have four dragons – one each for the champions. Charlie came over with the Ridgeback and Horntail on Friday morning. Brooding ones, too – can you imagine that?” she shook her head in amazement before gazing up at the Potions master again. “Severus, are you quite all right?” She was concerned now as he was breathing quickly and appeared as if was about to perish from heart failure right then. But he quickly rallied and reached for her hands.

“Molly, I need to go – can you manage your way from here? Good – I’ll see you on Friday, yes? I know Harry would love to have you here in his support.” He had clasped the older woman’s hands in his in farewell and, after her assuring him she knew the way to the main hall, had sprinted to a secret staircase nearby that led directly to Dumbledore’s office.

He didn’t even wait for Dumbledore to say ‘Enter’ after he had knocked before thrusting the door open and storming into the round office.

Dumbledore looked up from some papers on his desk to stare at his Potions master. “Something wrong, Severus?”

“No, nothing, Albus – only you’ve brought four brooding female dragons onto Hogwarts’ grounds for Friday... what were you thinking? And one of them is a Horntail? Are you even attempting to guarantee the students’ safety?” he ranted.

“How did you find out – Ah, Molly Weasley; I forgot she knew,” he murmured to himself. “Severus, I assure you, precautions are being taken to assure the safety of the students and the champions. Each Champion had to have a different Dragon and there are no Opaleyes anywhere near here and it is not their breeding season – it had to be the Horntail,” he explained to the pacing father. “Now, you can not let on that you know, Severus, it is supposed to be a surprise – not to be revealed until Friday. I know I can count on you to be discrete.” He leaned back in his high-backed chair, a contented smile gracing his visage.

Severus just snorted his opinion and stormed out of the office through the front door, making a beeline for the DADA corridor. There was some planning to be done.

****

Harry was caught in a catch-22 situation; he knew that his father and Professor Moody knew about the dragons as the first task, but they weren’t allowed to tell him about it – and he felt so guilty about having discovered the secret that he couldn’t tell them he knew – besides if he did so, he would have to reveal how he discovered it and he didn’t want to get Hagrid in trouble. His mentors had been training him for the last four days in all sorts of manoeuvres that would help him in facing the beasts, without actually telling him that he would be facing a dragon.

In truth, he’d rather face the dragon than his other problem – finding a date for the Ball that was taking place in less than four weeks. Maybe he’d get lucky, he thought as he walked to breakfast that Friday morning; maybe he’d get eaten by a dragon – thus solving both problems at once! Nah, he would never get that lucky – and his stomach, which had settled down at the thought of a solution, began to churn again.

Various Gryffindors – and a few Ravenclaws – wished him good luck as he traversed the main entry and passed into the Great Hall, heading toward the Gryff table. Just as many sneered at him - mostly residents of the Hufflepuff and Slytherin houses. He tried his mightiest to ignore them, and for the most part succeeded. Draco abandoned his fellow Ravenclaws to sit with Harry that morning and Harry scooted down a bit so the blond could slide in beside him.

“Aren’t you eating?” Draco asked as he eyed the single piece of toast on his brother’s plate.  Harry shook his head.

“Too nervous. Hey, Hermione, Ginny,” he greeted the two girls as they sat across from them.

“Hey yourself,” Hermione answered. “Good luck, Harry; I know you’ll do well with all the training you’ve been doing.”

“Thanks, Hermione. I’m just really nervous.” He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and nearly jumped a foot in the air when his father placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Here, Son, drink this first – then this one, very good.” He pocketed the empty vials he had handed to Harry who had downed them without even looking. “Stomach soother and a nutrient potion since I doubt you’ll even eat that piece of bread. When everyone has gone off to classes, you are to remain behind and will be guided to the reception chamber – the champions’ families will be gathering there for a bit. Yes, Draco, you remain behind as well, you’re excused from classes with your brother,” he assured his other son. “I have cancelled my lessons for today and will join you there.” He gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before moving on up the aisle to the head table.

An uneven walk behind him alerted Harry to Moody’s approach and, sure enough, the old Auror stopped by to wish him luck before joining Snape at the table.

Harry nibbled half-heartedly at the rapidly cooling piece of toast and periodically took a sip of pumpkin juice to wash down the dry bits. Draco leaned comfortably into him and Harry relished the warmth and knowledge that someone supported him unreservedly. He remembered back to when he had entered the hall and Ron had immediately gotten up and left, leaving a half-finished plate of food behind and flashing a “Support Diggory” badge in his face.

Too soon, and also what felt like an eternity later, the hall emptied as the rest of the school had classes to attend that morning. Moody slapped Harry on the back on his way to his classroom and his grin was truly gruesome to see. But Harry took it in the spirit it was meant in and was grateful to the Auror for all his help over the last four weeks.

Severus finally placed his serviette on his plate and pushed back his chair. In moments the three Snapes were following the other champions and school Headmasters to the reception room. It was the same one that Dumbledore had used before for the wand weighing and again it was filled with people that Harry barely knew, and another table full of food that made his stomach clench at just the thought.

Krum, on the other hand, seemed to be some distant kin of Ron’s as he was loading a plate up with no problems.

Harry figured the international Quidditch star was an old hand at the pre-game/performance jitters. Harry turned away and nearly smothered himself in Mrs Weasley’s bosom as she engulfed him in a bear hug.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so nervous for you!” she cried, rocking him back and forth and adding more agitation to his stomach. He tried patting her on the back to get her to calm down and Mr Weasley eventually pulled her off him as Harry gasped for breath. He was thankful when his father handed him a small glass of water that had the distinctive aroma of stomach soother, again, and an additional calming draught. Harry downed it quickly and smiled as the Matriarch of the Weasley clan gave him a motherly gaze.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you here, and all, but why...” he started.

“Your father suggested we come down early and support you. You’re practically family, Harry. And here is Bill, our eldest – I don’t believe you’ve met him yet.” She beamed as Harry and Bill exchanged handshakes. Harry unabashedly gawked at the tall redhead who sported long red hair in a rock-and-roll type haircut, an earring that resembled a dragon’s head in gold, and a long ivory tooth on a leather cord around his neck. He wore a deep red leather jacket, nearly black in its hue, over a pair of stylish denims, and some sort of weird leather boots completed the outfit.

“Cool...” he murmured then turned red in embarrassment as he realised he had said that out loud while his little family laughed.

“It’s alright, Harry,” assured the tall man. “I love to shock my mother. Life just wouldn’t be complete without giving her something to fuss over – today it’s my hair, right mum?” he teased.

“Oh, it’s just too long! Let me cut it, please, it won’t take but a moment... I mean, it is hanging in your eyes, Bill – and you have gorgeous eyes!”

“’Eee most zertanly doz!” came a comment from behind Harry and he turned in astonishment to see Fleur Delacour standing there openly admiring the curse breaker. “’Arry, ‘ooze your friend?” she asked.

“Ummm, Fleur this is Bill Weasley; Bill this is Fleur Delacour – the champion for Beuxbaton’s school.”

“She certainly is!” the man said admiringly. “A pleasure to meet you, milady.” He took a deep bow before her, flourishing his arm and she laughed a tinkling sound that reminded Harry of music.

“A romanteek? ‘Ow suave!” she said before turning back to her youngest competitor. “‘Arry, I wanted ‘oo to meet my muzzer and seester!” she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to meet the Delacour women, tossing one last calculating look at the oldest Weasley progeny.

Harry spent the next half hour meeting the families of the other three champions, who seemed to have accepted him for now, before returning to his own little group, introducing the other three to the Weasleys and formally introducing his father and brother to their parents. Mrs Delacour took an especial interest in Draco, calling him “leetle coozin” in reference to their nebulous relation. Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted to claim the new family as they were related via the Malfoy side, but he had to admit they were nicer than any of his Malfoy relatives and so allowed himself to be dragged along.

Everyone was pretty much on their own until after lunch when the champions would be led to a holding tent outside while everyone else filed into the Quidditch stadium.

Fleur had roped Bill, as a former Hogwarts alumni and head boy, into showing her and her family around the grounds and Severus had led Molly, Arthur and his sons down to their rooms in the Dungeons where the boys were proud to show off their room, and Harry found two letters waiting for him on his bed.

“They came for you this morning; come on out to the parlour when you’re done reading them and we’ll have lunch,” Severus said before gently closing the door behind him.

Harry ripped into the first one which turned out to be from Narcissa.

Harry,

I feel as if you are already like a son of mine – as close as you are to Draco. I was lucky to get to know you last Christmas and discover what a fine young man you are.

I want to wish you good luck today, as does Calista, and I know that you will represent your family, your school, your house and, most importantly, yourself today.

May Merlin watch over you,

Narcissa

A whiff of her perfume came from the notepaper and it was a comforting smell to Harry. He also detected a tiny handprint next to Narcissa’s signature which caused a smile to turn up the corners of his mouth. He gently folded the letter, placing it in his shirt’s breast pocket.

The second letter was from Sirius which also encouraged him to act honourably during the task today and to remember that he loved Harry like a son.

Harry, who had lived for eleven years under the impression that no one would ever want to claim him – well if blood kin didn’t want him, who would? – felt like the recipient of an embarrassment of riches with all these people claiming to love him like a son. Hogwarts meant everything to him; it was his home, it was where his true family resided and it was where he had found his true calling and who he was:  a Wizard.

He wiped a few stray tears away before adding Sirius’ post to Narcissa’s in his pocket. He straightened his robes and then went out to the parlour to greet and eat with his family.

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.

Harry folded up the letter from Sirius and placed it in his robe pocket as he gazed out on the moonless night; just the stars lighting up the snow on the grounds. It had begun snowing two days after the dragon task and had been falling for a straight week now. Not so much a storm, as just a steady, continuous snowfall of fat, glistening flakes that stuck and piled up quickly.

Hagrid’s classes had already been cancelled for the rest of the term – he had assigned several book-based research projects instead, to be turned in on the first day of class next term. Harry hadn’t even started, he was more concerned about this stupid Ball that the tournament required he attend.

He had three weeks to go and not a single prospect. He had even resorted to owling his godfather – notorious in his past Hogwarts conquests – for advice. The letter in his pocket was the man’s answer – and it was not much of one.

Harry,

Tell me you aren’t old enough to ask this question? Merlin, you are. And I can understand why you would ask me instead of Sni – ah, Snape, this question. He really wasn’t much of a ladies man during our school years, your mother being the only girl I EVER saw him with.

However, he would probably kill me if I ever told you some of my more fanciful exploits during my dating years. So, I’ll save those for when you are older and he isn’t in the room.

Just be yourself – surely you have all sorts of girls interested in you? I have to admit you’ve grown quite handsome, so there is nothing to worry about there. Trust me, the right one will come along.

In the meantime – don’t sweat it, just have fun.

Love always,

Snuffles.

 

Harry was always himself! And that wasn’t working. He finally jumped off the window embrasure and headed down to the Common Room to join his friends at dinner. Maybe he would ask Hermione if she knew anyone.

****

“Harry, I don’t know...”

“Hermione, please! I’m begging you!” Harry pleaded, batting his large green eyes in her direction and pouting dramatically.

“Harry Potter-Snape! That is not going to work!” She laughed in his face, smacking him lightly on the arm for his audacity.

“Can’t blame a bloke for trying,” he pointed out. “C’mon, don’t you know any girls that still need dates?”

“Well, I do know one...” she said thoughtfully.

Harry perked up at this as they turned onto the main staircase leading down to the entrance hall. “Really? Who?”

She shook her head. “Nope, not telling – at least not yet. I need to suss her out first. I’ll get back to you on Monday. If we’re really lucky, she may know of someone for Ron – trust me he won’t ask. Do you know what he said to me?”

“What?”

“He was complaining to his brothers about how he couldn’t find a date, then looks straight at me and goes ‘Hey, Hermione, you’re a girl!’” She huffed in annoyance and Harry had to laugh outright at this.

“He didn’t?”

“He most certainly did. So, I whacked him over the head with my book and left the library.”

Harry sniggered. “Which book?”

“Arithmancy.” She grinned over at her best friend who winced at the thought. “Yes, the heaviest of all my schoolbooks. Well, really! ‘You’re a girl’. So well spotted. What in Merlin’s name have I been up ‘til now? A well trained poodle?”

“Arf?” he responded, which earned him another whack that he took good-naturedly. “Sorry, you walked into that one,” he explained, rubbing his tender shoulder.

She grinned over at him before giggling. “I did, didn’t I?” She threaded her arm through his and walked him through the open doors and over to the Gryffindor table where they spotted several red heads and two platinum ones of Luna and Draco. Harry and Hermione greeted everyone and sat down to load up their plates.

Harry was content. Yes, he still needed a date; yes, he was still getting nasty looks from the Hufflepuffs – but the rest of the school had been impressed with his performance with the Dragons and it seemed to have elevated him to be treated with a modicum of respect. People still wore the Support Diggory badges, but very few went as far as flashing the second part of the buttons in his face.

There were notable exceptions to the rule – Nott’s Slytherin gang for one. But the rest of the school seemed to have accepted that Harry was part of this tournament and was going to be a worthy adversary, and one to watch. Fred and George had even informed him that he was gaining in popularity with those who were betting for him to win.

Personally, he still felt as if they were all waiting for him to die during one of the tasks and that he’d had a ton of luck on his side with the dragons. Who knew they spoke Parseltongue? There were only two speakers in the last hundred years, and Harry wasn’t about to ask Voldemort if he knew that little bit of trivia.

He had taken the egg he’d rescued – or rather been thrown at - down to his father’s workout room so that he and Professor Moody could see the clue.

Some clue. The egg screeched at them before Harry hit the button he had found a second time and closed it up. Blessed silence reigned, but the reverberations still rang in their eardrums, and Moody hit the side of his head a few times in an attempt to clear his hearing.

Harry had looked at his father who had a very contemplative look on his face. When he didn’t respond immediately, Harry sighed.

“Well?” he finally asked the man.

Severus slowly turned to face him. “No idea,” he drawled.

Gaping, Harry blinked at him. When did his father never have the answer? This was unheard of! He finally turned to Mad-Eye. “Do you have any ideas, Sir?”

“Nope, this one is beyond me, Snape. Damned noise – almost sounded like a racket of banshees!” He shook his head, apparently still ringing, and stomped out of the Dungeon room muttering to himself.

So, Harry had decided to leave the clue alone until after the holidays, deciding to handle one major problem at a time. He stuffed it under his clothes in his trunk and put it out of his mind. Besides, he didn’t need it until Valentine’s day – two months away. The Ball was more immediate – and worrying. But, now that he had Hermione on the hunt for him, maybe that would turn out alright as well.

He smiled to himself, content with the world and very grateful that it was treacle tart night.

****

“So, you’ll go with him to the Ball?” Hermione asked the other girl.

“Sure, but he has to ask me himself – I insist upon it,” she responded.

Hermione smiled. “Oh, he will. I can promise that. You wouldn’t happen to know if there is anyone willing to let Ron take them?”

“What are you, their mother?” the other girl asked, laughing.

“Sometime I wonder...” the Gryffindor agreed ruefully.

“I might – but it’s the same deal, he’d have to ask – but I can guarantee they’d say yes.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said thankfully.

“No problem, Granger. Have both of them in the Entrance Hall at eight o’clock tonight,” the girl requested.

“They’ll be there – if I have to mobilicorpus them!” The two girls laughed at the image that invoked and went their separate ways.

****

“Tonight? Hermione!” Ron whinged before getting elbowed by his best friend.

“Tonight will be fine, Hermione – thank you. Will you come along at least to introduce us?” Harry asked.

“Of course – and to also make sure you will complete your mission. Look on this as just another task of the tourney, Harry,” she pointed out. She then pointed her quill at Ron. “And you, you will be absolutely polite to whomever is to be your date. It is just one evening and I know your mother drilled in you how to be a gentleman, so use it!” She bent down to her notes, effectively dismissing them and they took the hint – heading up to the dorm to spruce themselves up. They both had a feeling that tapping their intended quarry on the shoulder and saying “Hey, wanna go to the Ball with me?” - like Fred had done with Angelina – was not going to work for them.

At ten minutes until the appointed hour, Harry and Ron presented themselves before the third part of their little group for inspection. She walked around them, tucking a tag in here, straightening a collar there, having them huff in her face to make sure they’d brushed and used a freshening charm, and inspected their nails to make sure they were clean and trimmed.

“Very good – now let’s go, we can’t be late!”

Ron gulped loudly, but led the troops out the portrait hole and down the many flights of stairs – which were thankfully cooperating, not moving much between the seventh floor and the Entrance Hall. Slowing down, so they weren’t out of breath, they descended the last set of stairs and approached the pair of girls who were standing in the shadows.

Hermione went ahead, nodding her head at the dark haired girl standing forward.

“Miss Parkinson, may I introduce Mister Harry James Potter-Snape, current Champion for Hogwarts and tying in first place with Cedric Diggory. Harry, please say hello to Pansy Parkinson,” Hermione said, initiating the introductions in a formal manner. Harry and Pansy were now obligated to follow form.

Harry bowed, as his father had taught him to when addressing witches formally. “Miss Parkinson, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He smiled at her while straightening up and she smiled shyly back.

“And yours, Mister Snape. Shall we walk over here while your friend meets his potential date?” she asked. He nodded to her again, offering her his arm while they walked to a small window embrasure where they could talk without being heard, and yet still keep things civil.

Harry snuck a peek at Ron who was speaking to Daphne Greengrass. “At least he’s not hexing her outright,” he noted, smiling back at Pansy. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for quite awhile, I watched you at Opening feast with the firsties. You’re quite nice with them,” he complimented.

“Does that surprise you?” she asked, cocking her head a bit to the side.

“Not really – pleasantly though. I’m used to having to run from or hex most of our year in your house – so it was nice to see someone being outwardly nice to the new students,” he explained.

“Well, not everyone follows Nott’s or Draco’s sires. There are many of us being tarred with their brush – is the Muggle saying, I believe?”

Harry told her it was the correct usage of the term, surprised she knew the phrase. “That is good to know. Does my father know?”

“Of course he does – but we must lay low for now. But let’s talk of more pleasant pastimes. I believe you have a question for me?” she prompted running a finger along his left arm which caused him to shiver in delight.

He blushed. Way to go, Snape. “Y- yes.” He cleared his throat, damn thing had become tight! “Miss Parkinson, will you accompany me to the Yule Ball?” he asked with a formal little bow and extremely proud his voice hadn’t cracked.

Pansy blushed as well and granted him a small curtsy saying, “Yes, Mister Snape – I will. Thank you for asking.” When she smiled at him, she had two little dimples that transformed her face from the haughty Slytherin to a delightful young woman, and Harry responded with a spontaneous grin. That hadn’t been too hard.

Afterwards, in the Common Room, Ron was sitting gobsmacked on the couch. “I’m going to the ball with Daphne? How’d that happen again, Harry?”

“You opened up your mouth and asked her, you prat, and she said yes. Now, do you have dress robes?”

“If you can call them that,” Ron said, frowning. “C’mon, let me show you what mum sent. I swear they look like Ginny should wear them!”

“I wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot wand, Ronald! And I better not find them in my dorm!” his sister threatened from across the room.

“Sisters,” Ron growled to his best friend. “C’mon,” he said leading Harry up to the dorm. He closed and locked the room door before reaching under his canopy bed and pulling out a battered garment box and tossing it on the bed. “Open it,” he commanded Harry.

With a raised eyebrow, Harry worked the lid off and lifted out the musty smelling pile of deep burgundy velvet – obviously a little worse for wear. The bobbin-lace was falling apart and had been dyed at one point to try and match the velvet – it hadn’t worked. It clashed horribly.

“Umm, I don’t know what to say...”

Ron sighed, dropping down on the bed next to the box and ripping the garment out of Harry’s hands. “You don’t have to say a thing. They’re horrendous. How can I take Daphne in that! Merlin, they’re older than Dumbledore!”

Harry had to laugh at that comparison. “Look, there has to be something we can do... Let’s take them to Professor McGonagall tomorrow – maybe she can help with some charms?”

“You think she will?”

“Maybe if we sweeten the deal with some chores over break – dusting the Transfiguration room or something?” Ron looked disheartened at that. He never willingly did chores – but to fix those robes, well he was desperate and it showed on his face as he stared down at the moth-eaten lace.

“Anything, Harry. Let’s just hope she can help. We’ve got that house meeting with her tomorrow – maybe after that is over?”

“My thoughts exactly. What was the meeting covering?” he asked, unlocking the door and grabbing his shower kit and pyjamas.

“I’m not sure,” Ron admitted, stuffing the box back under his bed before the rest of their dorm mates clambered into the room for the rest of the evening.

****

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are here as a house to learn the fine art of partnered dancing. This is a Ball and you will be expected to dance several waltzes at the start of the evening. After ten o’clock we have invited a local wrock group to entertain you, but prior to that you will be dancing the required dances. So, let’s start with basics. Mister Weasley, if you please.” She motioned to Ron to stand up and join her in the centre of the room. Harry grinned at his friend’s discomfiture, smiling at his brothers as they plopped down next to him on the bench, settling in to watch.

“That is it; place your hand on my back at my waist, very good. My hand goes on your shoulder like this, and your left hand takes my right hand like so...” She led the intrepid red-head through the steps; counting out slowly, then gradually increasing the tempo until she nodded to Hermione to start the music on the ancient gramophone. Ron counted under his breath concentrating on his feet and trying not to step on his teacher’s toes. “Look up, Mister Weasley.”

He snapped his head up, still counting as he led her around the room in little circles, smiling as he realised he was actually dancing. “I’m doing it! Oh, sorry, Professor!” he cried as he lost his concentration and stepped hard on her instep. He immediately dropped her hands, slapping his own over his mouth in horror as his brothers were bent over in their seats in silent laughter.

McGonagall winced in pain, but managed to not even limp as she walked over to the two sixth years and whacked them on the back of their heads.

“Just for that, you two are next – go get yourself some partners – no not each other, you fools - girls! Over there!” She pointed to the other side of the room, in case they hadn’t noticed the gender split in the room. Still sniggering, they headed over after executing an assisted pirouette in the middle of the dance floor to scattered applause from the boys.

The professor led Ron back over to Harry, saying quietly, “Well done, Weasley – see me after this session and we’ll see about your robes.”

Gratefully he stammered a thank you to her then looked over at Harry. “You manoeuvred that?”

“Blame it on my current upbringing. The rest of the family is Slytherin,” he said quietly. “Got it taken care of, didn’t I? Was it so painful to learn how to dance? Daphne will appreciate that, too. Now – I think I’m going to ask Hermione to dance, if you’ll excuse me.” He got up and headed over to the table where Hermione stood and spoke quietly with her for a moment before leading her out to the centre where they joined the twins and several other couples practicing.

Some of the lessons that Severus had insisted his sons take over the summer had been tutored dance lessons as well as furthering their education in pure-blood rituals. Draco had been brought up in these practices and teachings, Harry had not. But Harry joined in whole-heartedly recognising that in order to change a system, you had to deeply understand it first. Some of the rituals were antiquated and steeped in myth, legend, lore and history. Others had no basis whatsoever other than, ‘Because it has always been so.’ Harry wanted to be able to speak their language, understand their customs, before he toppled the regime and showed it as the fraud it was.

But he was discovering that there were some traditions that were elegant and beautiful in their own right. Dancing and dating rituals being some of those. The language was couched in the seventeenth and eighteenth century norms and styles; elegant with little innuendos thrown in for flavour. Much of it had never been updated officially, although younger witches and wizards tended to ignore the ritual language until it was needed for formal courtship and marriage alliances.

So, he guided his friend around the floor, surprised that she followed his direction so well. “You’ve had dance instruction?” he asked.

“Hmm, Mother insisted on a classical education. I attended an exclusive day school where our lessons were conducted in French and dancing and cooking lessons were part of the curriculum,” she explained. “You aren’t doing so badly yourself, Harry.”

“Dad insisted. You could give Draco a run for his money on the dance floor, Hermione – you’re perfect!” he exclaimed, giving her a little twirl in time to the music.

“Perhaps I’ll make sure to save him a spot on my card,” she said grinning. He laughed and spun her again, trying to make her dizzy.

****

“Alright, Weasley, show me these robes – heaven forbid!” Ron’s teacher exclaimed as he pulled out the box and opened it up on the bed.

“Well, let me see what we can do. First off, that dreadful lace has got to go!” She waved her wand and the lace detached as if cut by a sharp pair of shears, falling to the floor in a bedraggled mess. “That’s a start. Now, to mend those patches. Pay attention, boys, you’ll have to do this one yourselves when you leave and strike off on your own! Vestis Restituo!” Magically the moth holes filled in with brand new weaving and velvet matching the surrounding garment.

“Excellent, looking better already! Now, I believe we only need to make one more change and that is the colour.” A wave of the wand and the deep Magenta turned to midnight Black, which shimmered as the velvet was moved around. Ron was ecstatic.

“Professor, these are perfect! Thank you!” he gushed holding the garment up to himself and eyeing the combination in the mirror. Harry had to admit, it was ten times better than before. Daphne wouldn’t be embarrassed standing next to him.

“Yes, well, mustn’t let the house put a bad foot forward when just a few charms fixes everything. Now, mind you, Weasley – treat that young lady with absolute respect!” she reminded sternly causing Ron to nod his head energetically in agreement.

“Snape,” she said, turning to Harry. “Are you set?”

“Yes, ma’am. Dad got me and Draco sets of Dress robes this summer,” he said grinning.

“Well, then, my duty is done. Don’t forget that essay for Monday, gentlemen!” she reminded sharply before letting herself out of the door and letting her heels clatter on the stone stairs in warning as she descended to the Common Room. Harry and Ron looked at each other then grabbed their book bags, upending them on their beds as they grabbed their Transfiguration homework and started in on the two foot essay on why it was not recommended to transfigure an elephant into a mouse.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron asked a while later.

“Yeah?” Harry answered not lifting his eyes from his notes.

“Has Draco said who he’s taking yet?”

Harry shook his head. “Said I’ll find out Christmas day at the Ball.”

“Prat,” Ron said without much heat.

“Uh huh...” Harry agreed absently, turning the next page over to read about the conservation of space and volume.

“What about Hermione?” Ron asked a few moments late.

“Same answer,” his friend responded.

Ron looked over at Harry who chose that moment to look up as well. “You don’t think?” Ron asked looking slightly alarmed.

Harry thoughtfully looked off in the distance for a moment then shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so... Do you?”

“Blimey, that would be a weird match,” Ron answered but he didn’t really look convinced. “No, I don’t think so.” He finally dismissed the notion, returning back to his essay. Harry shrugged his shoulders as well and continued to take notes for his essay attempt.

“Luna,” Draco acknowledged the younger Ravenclaw who’d stopped at his study table. He took in the sight of the flighty third-year wrapped and muffled up for the walk down to the carriages that would take away the few students who were not staying for the festivities. She wore an old comfortable herringbone patterned wool coat, a few sizes too big – but it had belonged to her mother and the minute the sleeves hadn’t covered her finger tips, she had taken over ownership. A knitted cap graced her abundant curls and an incredibly long muffler was wrapped several times around her neck but still draped nearly to the floor.

“Draco Snape. I just wanted to tell you goodbye and to have a Happy Yuletide,” she said, setting her travel bag down next to her.

“I was hoping you would stay,” he said sincerely. He stood up and adjusted her muffler so that it wouldn’t trail in the muddy slush outside, tucking it securely under her collar. She smiled shyly at him.

“I know, and I would except that daddy and I have never spent a Christmas apart ever since...”

“Your mum died?” he ventured, leaning back against the table.

She fingered an edge of the coat, looking down in remembrance. “Yes.” She nodded her head, sending her Christmas bell earrings ringing. It sounded like heavenly music to the young man. “I can’t let him celebrate alone; he gets very despondent and nips into the gilly-wine too much,” she confided, leaning in a bit towards him. “But you’ll have a good time at the dance and with your family, right?”

He nodded back. “Yes, of course I will. And I understand, but I will miss you,” he confided.

“Well, watch out for the Nargles in the mistletoe and the Robspritz in the Yule trees... they love to make mischief, you know!” she advised sincerely, eyes wide.

Draco chuckled kindly and bent over to grab her bag, offering his arm to her. “I’ll keep that in mind, Luna. Now let me escort you to the carriages. Did I tell you who Harry is taking to the dance? No? Well, you will love this!” he said with a huge grin as he walked her up to the main hall.

****

Harry slammed the door to the dungeon workout room. It was oddly satisfying to hear it crash into the frame and see it shudder under the force of his strength. If only he could do that to that infuriating idiot, Krum.

He stalked around the room some more, letting off steam; setting up dummies and blasting them away just to feel the satisfaction of something crumpling under his attack. The Hungarian made him so mad! Ever since Harry had tied for first on the Dragon challenge, Victor had been giving him the evil eye and hinting dark things about Harry. It was second year all over again with the Dark Wizard and Parseltongue accusations. Fleur was now avoiding talking to him, sending him strange looks and ever since the holidays had started, the rest of the school had been looking suspiciously at him again.

He bent over, resting his hands on his knees, sweat dripping off of his brow – but turned and pointed his wand with deadly accuracy at the cleared throat behind him.

****

Severus had been having a peaceful afternoon, enjoying the late afternoon sun peeking through the high windows in his sitting room; the warmth of the fire beside him in the massive stone hearth and the companionship of a fine glass of wine and a good mystery to keep him entertained. The ancient Victrola – a find in a Muggle antique market many years ago – crooned to him from a back corner of the room with a record of Mozart’s Sonatas. The boys were off entertaining themselves and weren’t due back until later in the afternoon and he’d been saving this one for a few months. It was a new author, Laurie R King, from the States and she had written a book that had garnered the Edgar Allen Poe award that year. He was always interested in new writers, and this one seemed to hold a lot of promise. He was deep into A Grave Talent, enjoying the twists and turns of the plot.

That was, it was peaceful until Dobby appeared before him alternately pulling at his ears and wringing his hands; a huge pile of watchman’s caps towering on his head. Severus had thought Albus quite daft to hire the free-elf, but he had proven devoted to Harry and Draco, working primarily in his quarters and the boys’ common rooms. However, he would have to find out what the hats were for – they were confusing him.

“Master Potions, Sir! Harry Potter-Snape, Sir, is destroying the practice room! He’s going crazy, he is!” The large eyes seemed about to ready to fall out of their sockets in fear.

Severus sighed and put aside his book and wine to follow the little House-elf down thedungeon corridor to the practice room. Now that he had left his quarters, he could hear the sounds of blasting spells reverberating down the corridor. He looked down at the bobbing multitude of knitted fancy. Might as well find out now.

“Dobby, why the hats?”

“Miss Hermione, sir. She wants to free all the House-elves. Has been bad and leaving clothes under trash in the common rooms to tricksy poor unsuspecting elves. I’ve had to clean rooms – I’m already a free-elf!” he said proudly, pointing at his chest.

Severus sighed as they pulled alongside the practice room, he could still hear his son wreaking destruction inside. He obviously would have to have a talk with Miss Granger after the holidays. He pulled his wand, holding it ready as he opened the door. The sound of a small pop told him that Dobby had left, his duty done.

****

“Dad!” Harry said, finally recognising his father leaning on the doorframe. He quickly lowered his wand and tried to steady his breathing.

“Are you quite done blasting apart the dungeons?” Severus enquired with a raised eyebrow.

“For now,” Harry quipped, summoning a towel and glass of water before sitting on the padded mat. Severus slowly picked his way through the destruction and conjured a low stool to sit on; his progeny was currently sitting in the only clear spot on the floor.

“Who was it this time?” Severus asked, knowing his son’s moods fairly well. Harry only went off like this if he thought he was being targeted unfairly. Unfortunately, this was occurring a lot lately since the first challenge.

“It’s still Krum. I can trace every insinuation, every look, every hiss back to him. Now he’s all chummy with Nott and his group. I was starting to get along with Fleur and the Beuxbaton girls until Krum started in with his little digs. I’m just tired of this, Dad,” he complained, letting himself flop backwards on the mat and flinging the damp towel over his face. “Can’t I just hide away in your rooms until it is all over?” came his muffled suggestion.

“Harry Potter-Snape! Are you a Gryffindor or aren’t you?” his father accused, half amused.

“The hat wanted Slytherin, but I talked it out of it,” Harry pointed out, waving a vague hand around before letting it land loudly back on the floor.

Severus rolled his eyes at the pathetic picture in front of him. “Which just goes to prove you should have let it do its job. Perhaps it wouldn’t have taken as long to figure out what was wrong at your relatives.” He received a glare from under a raised corner of the towel before it was lowered again with a huff.  “However, your mother was a Gryffindor through and through and you have enough of her in you to overcompensate for me. Now, those other children will only be here for a few more months – you, on the other hand, will be here for the next three and a half years. I know you can rise above these petty juvenile accusations – you are no stranger to them and have handled them before with aplomb, what is different now?” he asked curiously.

A mumbled response came from the floor and Severus sighed.

“I don’t speak ‘towel’, Harry. Remove that thing at once from your face and speak to me intelligibly,” he insisted.

Harry sighed and rolled upright, letting the towel fall from his face. “I said I don’t know what is going on. It just infuriates me more this time around.” He shrugged, his long hair falling around his face – his exertions having torn most of it free from its usual confining queue.

Severus gazed down at his child, taking in the changes that Harry had gone through in the last few months.

“Puberty,” he said distinctly.

“Huh?” Harry said, looking up finally.

“You are going through the hormonal stage of puberty. It is why you are suddenly inflamed by an accusation that did not bother you so much the last time. Why you want to lash out and destroy things.” He pointed out the destruction of the room around them. Harry looked about as if seeing the state of the room for the first time. He blanched at the sight.

“Sorry, Dad; I’ll repair everything – I just had to do something and this was the safest place I could think of,” he explained.

“I understand, Son, really I do. Unfortunately we all have to go through this stage and some have it rougher than others. Just try to ignore Mr Krum for now, enjoy the holidays – if you have to spend the majority of the time in our flat, I won’t complain. But please, try to ease up on the destructive tendencies?”

“I’ll try... Shall I repair this?” Harry looked around sheepishly. Stupid hormones.

“You could use the practice – come back to the rooms when you are finished, I believe we shall dine in tonight.”

****

“The entire room? You destroyed the entire room?” Draco challenged his brother at dinner that night.

Harry sighed. Looking back on it, he didn’t know what had set him off – and he felt ridiculous for his reaction. “Well, at least I didn’t let go in the Great Hall,” he mumbled. “Which is where I really wanted to light into him. Prat.”

“True, although it probably would’ve been more satisfying. So, is it all repaired?”

“Yeah,” he twirled his fork in his pasta – back and forth before setting it down, not really interested in eating. He missed the concerned look his parent was giving him. “I just feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin – like the slightest thing is going to set me off. And my magic is itching as well; I can feel it running around, wanting to be used...” he complained pouting, while crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Severus took a sip of his wine as he contemplated the young men in front of him. “What you need is an outlet; something that will let you release all that pent up energy and frustration constructively. Perhaps we shouldn’t have suspended your training during the holidays – I thought to give you some deserved time off, but perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea. But I don’t want it to seem as if you are having lessons either... Give me until tomorrow – I think I have an idea, but I will need some help. In the meantime, let’s decorate the flat tonight, shall we? As we are at school, you can use your wands to help conjure and transfigure.” He looked at the two teens that had visibly perked up at his musings and offer. Harry slowly smiled and Snape knew he’d said the right thing. Merlin, how was he going to survive the next year or so as Harry moved toward adulthood? Draco had enough self-restraint most times, but Harry – well, hopefully his little plan would help for the next couple of weeks in more ways than one.

****

Severus had discovered that, with nearly all of the upper classmen staying behind for the holidays, as well as the foreign visitors; and without any classes to keep them occupied during the day, a breakout of high-jinks and mischief-making was becoming the hell that teachers worried about. So, after lunch the next day, all the common rooms and the Great Hall bulletin boards sported a new flyer.

Holiday Challenge

Come to the Great Hall Until Christmas Eve

To try your hand at

New and Amazing Magics

Or take part in the Snow Escapades on the Main Lawn:

Snow Forts

Snow sculptures

Snow games

Prizes to be offered in all endeavours

 

That definitely put the Kneazle amongst the owls and the students were all murmuring about the new things to do while on break.

After lunch, those students who went outside found themselves with Hagrid who set them the task of making snow forts in the wonderful packing snow that had fallen all month. The large teams soon got the task completed and were then told to make lots of snowballs. Getting the idea, the game commenced. Hagrid had broken them into two equal teams of mixed houses and years and for once there was no house rivalry or upper years picking on lower forms; just lots of kids having fun with snow.

Inside, the less adventurous students were learning how to make transfigured ornaments for the twelve trees that Hagrid had brought in earlier that morning, and Professor Flitwick showed them charms to make the baubles sparkle and shine with inner light.

Madame Maxime joined in with an especially useful spell that added fairy lights to the trees, as well as real, non-melting icicles; the Muggle Studies professor, Chastity Burbage, was in a corner teaching wizarding carols, and Snape had joined in with Moody to teach several of the upper years, and his sons, proper duelling technique – as the last attempt two years earlier had proven disastrous. They then set up practice dummies against the wall that the students could cast against. They had decided, for now, not to let the children duel each other – maybe at the end of the week, if they behaved.

In midweek, the teachers accompanied everyone to Hogsmeade for one last shopping trip before Yule. Everyone got a chance to see what the students outside had made as they passed through the grounds studded with snow and ice sculptures ranging from a standard snowman to an ice-sculpture that had representations of all four houses. Murmurs of appreciation and awe passed along the line as the students slowed to take in the magnificent sight. Harry and Draco had utilised their tried and true method of Owl Order and so went along primarily just to hang out in the village, until their father reminded them they needed to get a little memento for their dates, something small but memorable to mark the occasion.

Looking scared, they nearly ran into the nearest curiosities shop joining the line of many other boys who had the same idea. Harry had found a small silver bracelet and had a Dragon charm as well as a Pansy charm added to it. His brother approved, and he had found his own gift as well. Counting themselves lucky, they travelled on to Honeydukes to stock up on Chocolate and treats for the next term and then headed towards the Three Broomsticks where they were to meet their father.

“Well if it isn’t Potty-Snape and his traitorous brother; off on a little jaunt today, boys?” came the sneering voice of Harry’s own personal nemesis.

He slowly turned around, flexing his wrist to release his wand while pocketing his purchases and sealing shut his pocket with a wandless movement of his left hand.

“You’re being bold, Theo, to try something in the middle of the street where anyone could come upon us,” remarked Harry.

“Oh, nobody is going to interfere, Snapey,” the taller boy menaced, walking around the two smaller boys. “They all agree with me that you are really a dark Wizard. Speaking Parseltongue just sealed your fate.” He laughed cruelly, his thugs joining in.

Harry and Draco looked around, noticing everyone shooting them wary looks and hurrying to get out of range and knowledge of what was happening. Harry marked that Draco had also pocketed his purchases and had dropped his wand into his hand, and they unconsciously had fallen into a standard defensive posture guarding each others back. This was something they were used to – just not so many at once.

“Cowards...” he heard Draco mumble regarding the rest of the surrounding public as they scurried away.

“Can’t blame them,” Harry pointed out, sotto voce. He quickly conjured a shield with one hand when he noticed Nott finally making a move. Then he noticed Krum and several of the Durmstrang students hovering in the background, watching carefully.

“Harry...” Draco warned.

“I see him,” Harry growled. He flicked his wand to shoot out a stinging hex around his wandless shield while Draco sent a Tarantellegra curse at Goyle causing the large boy to flail about madly. That seemed to be the signal to the rest of the goons to let loose with the curses, jinxes and hexes forcing the brothers backwards into an abandoned alleyway that had a fieldstone wall closing off the far end of it.

Harry and Draco were fighting with all their worth, but it was against at least six other brutish students that they could see and they were quickly running out of room and options. Harry’s abilities to feel the magic signatures was being sorely tested and stretched to his limits. Slowly, but surely, they were being beaten; the other older and larger Wizards – trained in the dark arts – were too much for the two Snapes to handle for longer than a few minutes. Behind a hastily thrown protego they each came to the same conclusion and reached up as if to scratch their ears, disappearing from view amidst a barrage of colourful spells.

When the lights and spell residue cleared, the attack squad was left staring at a blank wall.

Crabbe looked around the alley, confusion written all over his face. “Where’d they go?” He scratched his head.

“A good question, Mr Crabbe – one I’m sure I’d love to answer when we return to the castle and discuss your detention schedule for the next term,” came the silky voice behind them.

The group of students turned en masse and saw their exit blocked by a bevy of teachers in dark cloaks. Snape, Moody and Hagrid stared at the boys in front of them. The Slytherins looked like their hand had been caught in the cookie jar, but the Durmstrang students looked defiant; ranged behind their leader who faced off against the teachers.

“You haf no jur-ees-deek-shon over me,” Viktor stated abrasively.

“Au contraire, Mr Krum. You agreed to abide by the rules of the school when you entered the competition. Duelling and attacks among students are forbidden unless strictly supervised by a qualified teacher under certain conditions. This applies,” he added when Krum had opened his mouth, “whether or not the students are technically on school grounds, or on a school sponsored outing – such as this. As such, you are all eligible for detentions,” Moody gleefully pointed out. “Multiple ones which I am sure Severus and I will delight in supervising!”

“Correct,” Severus agreed. “My students will wait for me in my office. Hagrid will accompany you there and supervise until I arrive.” Hagrid nodded, herding the three reluctant Slytherins out of the dark alley and hustled them down the street. “Professor Moody shall escort you three up to the Headmaster’s office where I will join you shortly. Now move!” he bellowed. The three burly boys flinched as if struck with a baton and quickly edged their way past the irate father, giving him as wide a berth as possible before meeting up with the grizzled Auror who led them away at wandpoint.

Severus Disapparated on the spot, reappearing outside the gates. He hurried up the snowy path to the main doors, quickly running to the dungeon entrance and letting the shadows swallow him as he descended the marble stairs. He rushed through the twisty corridors, allowing his feet to know the way to his quarters. The door had barely squeaked open before he was through it and down the hallway where he heard murmuring coming from the boys room.

Pushing open the door, he sighed in relied seeing them sitting crosslegged on Draco’s bed, a tumble of their purchases between them. They looked up relieved as well when he came in.

“You’re alright?” he asked, looking them over visually and magically as he passed his wand over them checking for residual spell traces.

“We’re fine, Dad. How’d you know something was up?”

“Miss Granger. She saw them surrounding you and hurried into the pub to let us know. We got there as quick as we could,” he explained, sitting across from them on the edge of Harry’s four-poster.

Harry smiled at Hermione’s quick thinking. “That was decent of her; no one else stopped and helped.” He frowned at the memory of everyone running the opposite direction. He didn’t remember if he had seen the bushy-haired girl or not.

“Actually, we kept being stopped by people telling us what was happening. It slowed us down. But I see you two managed to come out of it unscathed,”

“Thanks to your training, Dad,” Draco acknowledged. “We wouldn’t have lasted as long, otherwise.” Harry nodded his agreement.

“It’s what kept us focused enough to get the chance to Portkey home.” He picked at a piece of fuzz on Draco’s counterpane. “So did you catch them?”

“Hmm, yes. Hagrid is watching over Nott, Crabbe and Goyle and Moody is taking Krum and his lackeys up to Albus’ office. If you are both alright, I should lower the boom on my Slytherins.”

“We’re fine. Go give yourself a Christmas present and ream their ...” Harry squeaked when Draco clapped both of his hands over Harry’s mouth. Harry glared over his shoulder at his brother, but Draco was unrelenting, just smiling beatifically.

Severus chuckled darkly to himself as he gracefully rose to his feet and exited the bedroom. Yes, he believed he would have fun with this set of detentions. He had such a mass of fine ingredients that needed preparing for the next term.

 “C’mon, Draco, tell me!” Harry pleaded. Draco still hadn’t said who his date was, and while Harry was pretty convinced it was his best friend Hermione, his brother wouldn’t confirm.

“No,” Draco declined, smirking at the look of consternation on his brother’s face. “You’ll just have to wait twenty more minutes. Patience, little brother... You missed a spot...” he pointed out as Harry tried the depilation charm their father had taught them.

“Blimey...” Harry muttered as he leaned closer into the mirror passing his wand over his chin and upper lip a third time. “Maybe I’m not putting enough power into it.” He scrunched up his face every which way, looking for stray beard growth.

“Nah, it’s fine. I was just messing with you – ouch!” Draco laughed as his brother whacked him on the back of his head.

“Boys, you better be getting dressed – it’s a quarter of seven!” Severus called down the hallway. Harry and Draco took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down hair and checking to make sure everything looked good before heading back out to the bedroom to don their dress robes. Draco’s were black silk shot with iridescent green, and Harry’s were the same cut – but his had red silk running through it. He had chosen this evening to wear his long hair clubbed back with a red silk ribbon holding it in place.

Severus stood hidden in the shadows of the door for a moment, reminiscing on how much these two young men had grown in the last few years. Harry had been a frightened, beaten child but with a hidden strength that was apparent in his ability to jump in where angels feared to tread and survive. Draco had been the typical Death Eater progeny; expected to take on the family business and demeanour.  But Draco had a gentle, quiet soul that he covered up with bravado, and Severus was glad that under his care it was coming more to the fore.

He had been gratified that both of them had spent the holidays in his rooms. With all of the students staying behind this year to attend the ball, he had almost assumed they would want to stay in their dorms with their friends, but both had shown up on the first day of break, trunks in tow, and quietly moved into their shared room. They had then insisted he take them to the manor to harvest a tree from their property to put up in his sitting room.

The decorations had gone up quickly and, just as quickly, presents had begun gathering under the laden boughs.

This morning they had risen late – enjoying a lie in – and the family had leisurely opened presents while munching lazily on their breakfast; dressed in pyjamas, dressing gowns and soft leather slippers that warded off the cold dungeon floor. A merry fire had crackled in the fireplace and Runeskin had joined them, bringing their breakfast and gifts from the staff at the manor.

Now both boys were standing in their room, dressed like young gentlemen of breeding, ready to take their first dates to a ball. Such a change; it seemed only yesterday he had been teaching Harry how to use silverware correctly. He let a small smile grace his face while he smoothed out his own formal wear before he came in to inspect. He flicked some dust off of Harry’s shoulder, squeezing it in affection before moving on to Draco, tucking back an errant strand of hair and smiling on the young man who shyly returned the look. He stepped back and took in the complete package of the two from polished boots to tied cravats, to the emeralds sparkling from their earlobes. Definitely sons to be proud of.

“Do you have your wands? Gifts for your dates? Then let us be off. You two can enjoy yourselves; I, on the other hand, must be a chaperone.” He said the word as if it was anathema then turned quickly and let his robes billow behind him in typical Snape fashion. Granted, these were a high sheen silk, better than his average daily black wear and the buttons were silver serpents rather than black onyx – but the billow was the same, somehow even more intimidating, and the teens followed after their parent, hard soled shoes tapping quickly after.

They joined a gathering crowd of students, dressed in their absolute finest. A gaggle of Beauxbatons’ girls were gathered in one corner, tittering among themselves as they watched the Hogwarts girls descend or ascend the various staircases to join their dates.

Harry saw Ron hurrying down the stairs, his velvet robes looking much better than before, and he had managed to find a formal shirt in the second-hand store in Hogsmeade to wear under it. With his red hair glowing on top, he managed to look quite decent. He was nervously turning a small wrapped box over in his hand as he joined the brothers.

“Have they come up yet?” he whispered to Harry, running a finger under his collar in a vain attempt to loosen it. His friend just shook his head as he kept an eye on the Dungeon entrance. He had offered to escort Pansy from the Slytherin Common Room door, but she had insisted on meeting him in the Entrance Hall. Ron was a nervous wreck, breathing into his hand to check his breath and shining the tops of his shoes on his trousers.

“Are you sure this looks alright, Harry?” he asked, glancing around at the other male students resplendent in their dress robes. Harry turned to look him over and nodded his head.

“You’re fine Ron. Daphne won’t be embarrassed at all to be seen with you, as long as you act the gentleman. Now stop fidgeting – you’re making me nervous!”

“And annoying me!” Draco hissed at the redhead. Silicia added her two pence in as well, and Ron paled as he eyed the cobra peaking out from under Harry’s cuff, but did manage to settle down, although he couldn’t stop his nervous habit of darting his eyes around the room watching everyone and hoping to catch a sight of his date before she spotted him.

“Hey, what’s Bill doing here?” Ron said, his attention caught by his dashing brother entering the Main Doors, a beautiful Witch on his arms. Harry and Draco craned their heads over the crowd and Harry laughed.

“He’s escorting Fleur,” he announced to the stunned brother.

“He’s what? You’re kidding! She must have used her Veela wiles on him!” Ron complained.

“Just because she didn’t accept your blurted, ham-handed offer, Weasley...” Draco sniggered, earning a glare from Ron. Half the school had been witness to Ron’s fumble-mouthed attempt at asking Fleur to the dance before Hermione had come up with her brilliant plan for her two best friends.

“No, they’ve been interested in each other for a few weeks now,” Harry pointed out. “They look good together.” He nodded to the couple that had Bill leaning down towards Fleur who was looking at him with adoring eyes.

“Mum will have kittens,” Ron warned. His eyes nearly popped out of his head though as he noticed a girl making an entrance at the top of the stairs. “Blimey, is that...?” Harry and Draco turned quickly around to see who had caught Ron’s eye.

“Hermione!” Draco said, smiling and moving to wait at the bottom of the stairs, offering her his arm as she gracefully descended – a cloud of periwinkle tulle and silk flowing behind her. Somehow she had tamed her usual fluffy mane of hair to hang in elegant ringlets about her face, a pair of diamond earrings glittering in her ears. A touch of pink colour to her lips, and matching periwinkle shadow to her eyelids transformed the mousy Gryffindor into a lioness that made Draco want to stand up and roar.

Harry and Ron just stood there stupidly, mouths open as they watched the couple smirk at their friends and move to stand in line to enter the Great Hall. While they waited to be announced, Draco handed Hermione a small jewellery box that contained a diamond solitaire necklace and a silver clasp for her hair.

“I checked with your room mates as to what earrings you were wearing,” he clarified as she noted how well they matched. “The necklace is one that mother had given me many years ago for this purpose. I thought you might like to have it... The barrette I found at this shop in Hogsmeade and I thought you might like it.” He blushed a bit under her perfuse thanks and small peck on his cheek in reward after he fastened the necklace around her slender neck and placed the small hair jewel where she said she wanted it. The next thing they knew, they were announced at the doors and entered the Great Hall that was decorated like a winter wonderland, the fresh scent of snow covered pine from Hagrid’s twelve yule trees permeating the air.

“Hello, Harry,” came a soft voice behind him and he turned to behold Pansy in a pink and white satin dress that most definitely highlighted her best attributes, Daphne following behind her. Pansy’s brown hair had been sleeked up to a Grecian pile of curls, garnets twinkling from under the tresses. Harry smiled and offered her his arm as they moved to join Fleur and Bill, the Champions and their dates were to enter all together in order of their current ranking.

Ron looked shyly at Daphne then shoved the box he’d been mangling in his hands at her. “Umm, I got you this,” he offered lamely.

She smiled at his attempt and deftly removed the shredded ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal a small snowflake ornament.

“I saw your sculpture outside and I thought you would like this to remind you of it. You did a really great job...” he said, wiping his sweaty hands on his robes in a vain attempt to dry them off.

“Thank you, Ronald, this is sweet.” She leaned in to give him small kiss on his cheek and was granted a goofy look and a blush to rival his hair colour for her efforts.

Ron looked around, noticing the line was starting to move inside. “Shall we?” he asked, trying his best to sound gallant and offered his arm to his date.

“I’d love to,” she said and picking up a corner of her skirt, walked with him to where McGonagall was ticking off couples on her clipboard before announcing them to the room in general.

Harry nodded politely to Fleur who scowled a bit at him before turning her back on him, turning her attention to Bill who was giving her a history lesson on the stained glass windows in the hall.

“What’d you do to her, Harry?” Pansy asked quietly.

“Spoke Parseltongue to the Dragon and gained a tied for first place,” he said sourly.

“Ah. Yes, Theo has been ragging on that for the last month. I heard he ragged on you Thursday afternoon.”

Harry looked over at her, taking in her teasing mood. “You could say that. Didn’t succeed; and got caught for his efforts.” He smirked at the memory. He fished a small box out of his pocket that he held out to her. “Here, something to remember the night with.”

Pansy accepted the little gift and smiled at him in thanks before untying the ribbon and tucking it into her clutch. She opened the lid and gasped as she saw the silver links winking at her from their nest of white silk.

“Allow me,” Harry offered lifting the chain and fastening it around her wrist. She peered closely at the little charms.

“I love it, thank you! I’ll have to add charms for each of the tasks you complete,” she teased, fingering the little dragon. “But it really needs a lightning bolt, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely! Here...” He took a stray piece of string from the lining of his dress robes and, pointing his wand at it, turned it into a golden lightning bolt charm, complete with a little clasp that he promptly hooked onto the bracelet.

“And I’ll get you one after each task is completed,” he promised.

“I accept. Oh, is that Cho?” she exclaimed, peering around him. Harry turned and followed her line of sight to where Cho Chang had entered on Cedric’s arm. While Chang had captured his imagination at the start of the year, he had to admit that tonight Pansy was the better looking date. Not that Cho looked bad at all, but he felt that Pansy carried the look with more grace. They walked over to join the other two Champions and their dates and await Krum. The six made polite conversation, with Fleur steadfastly ignoring Harry until a boom sounded as the Grand Doors were opened with a resounding crash and Viktor stood in the centre of them, a petite Hannah Abbott on his arm. She almost looked frightened standing next to his imposing figure and, after waiting a long moment, he practically dragged her over to where the other Champions had gathered.

He didn’t release her at all as they waited for the Professor to line them up for the grand entrance, and she sent a pleading look at the other girls. Harry noticed her smudged lipstick, and could smell the distinctive odour of Alcohol wafting from Viktor - but what could he do? They had to make the walk into the hall and dance the first waltz. He leaned in to whisper to Pansy.

“We all have to do the dance, but do you think you can get her away from him after that? I don’t like the look on his face and her dress is rumpled in the back a bit,” he warned.

“You think he’s tried something already?” Pansy asked, steel in her voice.

“If he has, he didn’t get far – but he’ll try again. We need to get her away to a safe place. Think you can handle it?”

“Absolutely. The Abbotts are old friends of my mother’s family. Leave it to me – but what about Viktor?”

“I’ll warn dad. He was forced to allow Viktor to attend the ball despite participating in Nott’s little dust-up on Thursday. Notice they aren’t here? Everyone, except Viktor, was banned from attending. He would have been as well, In fact Dad lobbied for it – but the Minister intervened and said as a competing champion he had to attend. I’m sure Dad’ll be glad for an excuse to toss him out and Krum is drunk; a perfect reason – no Alcohol allowed, remember?”

Pansy got a distinct predatory gleam in her eye. “Oh, he hates a drunk! He takes the boys aside every year and has ‘THE TALK’ with them – all about how to treat a girl, how to handle their liquor, safe sexual practices and so on. He makes Madam Pomfrey have the same discussion with the girls. It’s mandatory in our house from fourth to seventh-year.” She gave a nod to Hannah to let her know that rescue was imminent and the grateful look was unmistakable. “But drunkenness he seriously frowns upon.”

Harry grinned. “It’s because of his own father,” he intimated. “Glad to know Draco and I weren’t the only ones to get that talk. I thought we got the special treatment due to being family! Do the other Heads have the same talk with their houses?”

They moved into line, Harry and Pansy behind Cho and Cedric as Pansy answered his question. “I have no idea; but the Professor always treats us as his own.”

That sounded like Snape to Harry, always concerned with the children of his house – taking his Head responsibilities to heart.

“Well, here we go!” Harry muttered as McGonagall moved along the line, straightening things here and there – paying especial attention to Hannah and shooting Krum a suspicious scowl before nodding to Filch to open the doors to the Great Hall.

Dumbledore stood at the top of the room, beatific and avuncular smile lighting his face and making his eyes twinkle, holding out his arms and welcoming the four main couples to the dance. The teachers and Tournament officials were ranged behind him, everyone in the room applauding as they took the centre of the room and began to dance to the opening waltz. After the first few strains, other couples were free to join in and the room was soon awhirl with black silk jackets and colourful satin dresses.

Harry held his own quite respectably and he noticed that Ron was managing to keep away from Daphne’s feet for the most part, counting under his breath and sneaking a peek down at his buffed boots to make sure.

Draco looked as if he was in his element, gliding an ecstatic Hermione around as if they danced on clouds. They were so good they kept adding extra twirls and turns and held a quiet conversation the entire time.

Harry was a bit jealous of Draco’s abilities. He was no slouch, having been under his father’s tutelage for quite awhile – he certainly did not need to count and look down like Ron - but he wasn’t as proficient as his brother, either.

He and his partner kept an eye on Hannah who was pretty much being yanked around the floor by her date. When they danced in range of Hermione, Pansy quickly let her know what their plan was and was rewarded with a flash of rage from the brunette’s eyes. The couples stayed together after that and made sure they were within striking distance of Krum and his date.

When the music ended, Hermione and Pansy descended on Hannah like colourful twittering birds stating they needed her help in the ladies room – a time honoured excuse that no man was going to intrude upon, no matter how much of a cad he was, while Harry made a beeline for his father, whom he had spotted near the refreshment table. Bill waylaid him though before he could reach him.

“Harry, I wanted to congratulate you on your handling of the Dragon task!” said the beaming Weasley. “And I want to apologise for Fleur. She’s taking your abilities a bit hard. But I explained to her it was just like her using some of her innate Veela abilities – you can’t help what you’re born with, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry agreed, trying to keep an eye on his dad. “Umm, Bill – I’d really love to stay and chat, and thanks for explaining things to Fleur – but I need to tell my father something. If you’d excuse me?”

“Oh, sure, Harry! I’ll talk to you later!” said Bill, affably, clapping a hand to Harry’s shoulder before stepping out of the way and taking off in search of his date again, two punch cups in hand, while Harry hurried over to his father.

“Dad, I need to tell you something... I think Viktor is drunk, and he may have done something inappropriate with Hannah. I could smell Alcohol on his breath and she really looked frightened. The girls have taken her off to the ladies room, but I thought you should handle Viktor,” he blurted out in a rush.

“Do you know for a fact he did something to Miss Abbott?” Severus asked, frowning at the news.

“No; although she was really relieved when Pansy and Hermione took her away. But I can confirm the Alcohol, I can smell it all over him.  And watch him, he’s walking around as if he’s drunk.”

“How can you tell?” Snape asked dryly. “His walk is always off.” He was not impressed with the Durmstrang champion, especially after having had him in Detention all day the day before. The boy had complained the entire time he was disembowelling frogs and extracting bubotuber puss. Severus had eventually had to place a silencing spell on the boy just to get some peace and quiet in the room.

“More so than usual, Dad,” Harry exclaimed. “And he’s stumbling around as well.  He never does that.”

“True. Oh, alright – I’ll go investigate.” Harry watched as his father moved across the floor like a menacing shadow. Silent and deadly. The man glided up to Krum, who was speaking to his Headmaster, causing the seeker to jump a mile in the air when Severus placed a hand on the Bulgarian’s shoulder and leaning in to take a sniff before fanning a hand to clear the air.

“Mr Krum, is that Liquor I detect? Flouting this institution’s rules again? And so soon after your last infraction; tsk, tsk,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the obvious tell-tale odour. “Igor, I thought Dumbledore gave you a full list of our rules and regulations that your students must abide by while here. One of them is ‘No Alcohol’. Especially at a school function where there are students younger than seventeen attending.” His imposing figure loomed over the two shorter Wizards and nearby Hogwarts students, recognising the danger signal, found other more interesting things to do far away from his vicinity.

“Now see here, Snape, Viktor is of age. If he wants a drink he can have one,” Igor blustered.

“Yes, on your ship – which is diplomatic ground - but not in this school. Accio hip-flask!” he incanted and a large silver flask flew from the inside of the Champion’s robes and smacked into Snape’s outstretched hand. He made a show of twisting off the cut crystal cap and sniffing the contents. “Ah, Ogden’s finest. Good choice, Viktor, but still contraband. As any student here can tell you, if you are found with a contraband item you are eligible for detention with Mr Filch, our Squib caretaker,” he said, looking pointedly at Karkarof. “Therefore, on top of your remaining detentions with me, I am now adding on a weeks worth of detentions with Mr Filch. Now, remove yourself from my presence and this dance.”

“Now really, Severus, don’t you think that is a little harsh,” Dumbledore said as he approached the little group.

“Not at all, Albus. This is his second offence in as many days, both of which were egregious flouting of the rules. If he wishes to continue on in this competition to the best of his abilities – and fairly – he needs to learn to follow the rules. ‘When in Rome’, Albus. You put me in charge of maintaining the rules during this event; please allow me to do so.” He ended his speech with a near growl, peering down his nose at his superior.

“Ah, yes.” Dumbledore seemed momentarily taken aback by Snape’s proclamation then regained his equilibrium looking apologetically at his colleague from Durmstrang. “I’m sorry, Igor, Severus is absolutely correct on all counts. I’m sorry to say but his ruling stands; Viktor will have more detentions added and I’m afraid he needs to return to the ship and take a sober-up potion.” He shrugged then gaily walked on past the group, nodded genially at the students as he passed by them.

“This isn’t over, Severus!” Karkarof warned before grabbing his student by the bicep and dragging him away.

“Now I know why Krum treated Hannah the way he did – he thinks that’s how you treat a person!” Harry remarked from Severus’ side.

“Perhaps. Now, off you go; I see your date approaching,” he observed and Harry turned to smile at the trio of beautiful girls who were headed in his direction.

Draco joined the group as they took over a table, furnishing glasses of punch for everyone. Ron and Daphne soon joined the group. Hannah looked better now that the girls had helped her repair her make-up and dress and she seemed much more relaxed as she had seen Krum being escorted back to the ship. Severus came over to enquire after her health.

“I’m fine, professor – he really wasn’t able to do much, just manhandled me a bit heavily and tried to take too many liberties with his kisses. But he was too drunk to do much else and the girls rescued me before it got any worse.”

Severus discretely handed her a small one ounce jar of his special recipe bruise cream. “For your arms,” he said for her ears only. “Put some on the next time you go to the powder room and you should have no need of glamours by nights end.”

She smiled up at her professor and secreted the jar into her clutch. “Thank you, Professor. And,” she smiled over at the handsome Gryffindor, “thanks, Harry, for noticing!”

“Don’t mention it, Hannah.  No one deserves to be treated that way. I could tell how uncomfortable you were with him. Now you can enjoy the rest of the night and, with Pansy’s permission, allow me to dance this next dance with you?” He glanced over at his date who gave him a soft smile in agreement, so he stood and offered his hand to Hannah.

“Thank you, Pansy,” Hannah said as she rose. “I’ll return him good as new!” She smiled as Harry led her off to the dance floor.

“Well done, Miss Parkinson,” Severus murmured.

“It’s just one dance – but I think I’ll go find her a proper date for the rest of the evening. I’m not going to share mine any longer than I have to! If you’ll excuse me, Professor?”

“Of course. I do believe there are some eligible gentlemen who came stag standing over by the punch table,” he suggested. She followed his line of sight and her eyes landed on several bright prospects.

“Thank you!” She headed straight over to the area and soon had a bevy of male students surrounding her. Severus chuckled to himself then went off to check on the gardens, knowing there were probably more infractions occurring out there.

Of course he was absolute correct; the gardens leant themselves to dark romantic corners where teenagers with raging hormones could hope to find some privacy for some heavy petting. As he blasted apart rosebushes and snuck up on unsuspecting couples, deducting points and assigning detentions, he almost felt happy. It had been awhile since he had been able to just stalk around the school like the Dungeon Bat reputation he had gained over the years. It was almost liberating!

But as he caught a fifth-year Hufflepuff with a seventh-year Ravenclaw, he realised he was very lucky that his own sons hadn’t gotten to this point yet in their maturing. He knew it was coming, and he wasn’t looking forward to it at all; he remembered his own angst filled years with Lily.

Caught up in memories, he was rudely brought to earth when the sounds of a girl gasping in shock forced him to move faster – visions of Krum returning to the dance and cornering Miss Abbott playing in his head. He was taken by surprise then when he came around a corner and caught one of his own House members getting a little too physical with one of the French students who was protesting loudly, then up and slapped his student hard across the face.

He calmly grabbed the boy by the collar of his robes and bodily lifted him away from the girl who was attempting to maintain her dignity, clutching her wrap around her shoulders trying to cover up where her date had shifted things around.

“You may return to the dance,” he directed to the girl. “Do you need to see the Matron?” She shook her no before she hastily got out of his way, dashing across the flagstones towards the castle entrance, never looking back, although he could hear her muttering imprecations in French the entire way. He forcibly turned the boy around to face him. “You, Mr Brandeis, will return to your dorm and prepare for a lengthy detention tomorrow – bright and early. I expect you in my classroom at eight. And that is twenty points from Slytherin!  Now march!”

Alex Brandeis knew not to complain and shuffled off towards the Dungeons casting one last longing look at the Great Hall.

“I mean it, Mr Brandeis – or do I need to make that fifty points? Excellent, glad to see your brain hasn’t totally dribbled down into your shorts,” he murmured to no one in particular, but wasn’t surprised when he heard MadEye chuckling behind him, melting out of the shadows, his kilt swirling around his knees.

“Come off it, Severus, I remember you were just as amorous at that age,” the Auror said watching the unfortunate Mr Brandeis quickly return to his dorm, his magic eye following the boy through the twists and turns of the Dungeon corridors.

“I was secretly engaged, I had a valid excuse,” Severus replied haughtily, but he softened his answer with a small uplift of his mouth after a moment.

“Uh, huh – and I would just love to have seen you give that excuse to a teacher in your seventh-year,” Alastor quipped back.

“Never had to, it was a secret – you dirty old man. You and your eye were the only ones that caught us, I’ll have you know.”

“Just you keep believin’ that, laddie. Don’t let me be the one to burst your bubble.” He grinned as they walked towards the Great Hall to check on the party. By the sound of the music, the orchestra had been replaced by the Wyrd Sisters, a popular band, and they could see the shadows of gyrating teenagers against the stained glass of the window panels flanking the Great Doors.

“And what do you mean by that? You, Potter, and Remus were the only ones that knew of our marriage,” Severus pointed out.

“Ah, you forgot a little Tabby cat that used to show up in your dark little hallways, didn’t you,” he laughingly pointed out.

The look on Severus’ face was priceless as he realised what Moody was inferring. “Why that little minx...” he declared. “Where is she...” He craned his neck around from his position at the door looking for the older witch in her distinctive green plaid robes and tall pointed hat. He spotted her along one of the back walls and ghosted over to her position, quietly standing next to her for a few minutes.

“So, Minerva, I hear you used to spy on Lily and I...” he whispered dangerously low in her ear.

She whipped her head around, a smirk on her face. “Just doing my duty, my boy. Had to make sure no one else caught you two. Drove off the first Mrs Norris many a-time. And since it never got very far, I didn’t do anything about it. If I’d known you two were already...”

“Engaged, Minerva. We didn’t marry until the day after leaving.” He smiled at the memory.

“One of these days I’ll get that whole story from you,” she warned. “You owe me!”

“But not today. How have the children behaved in here? I can tell you that too many escaped to the gardens to profess love amongst the enchanted roses.”

“Oh, Severus,” she sighed resignedly. “How many detentions and how many points were lost?”

“I’ll have a full classroom tomorrow,” he said cheerfully. “Should get lots of prep work done before classes start back up. And trust me; the points were pretty evenly distributed. Any problems with my lot?”

“None. Not after that kerfuffle with Krum at the beginning... he was really drunk?” She snorted to herself when he confirmed it. “Well, Hannah has been having a good evening after all. Miss Parkinson found her a very nice unattached boy to spend the evening with. Your two have been behaving themselves admirably, but the youngest Weasley boy unfortunately upturned a punch glass on his date after trouncing too many times on her toes. She left in a huff about an hour ago, nursing sore feet and he has been moping away watching the others. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t already returned to the dorm, I haven’t seen him in the last ten minutes.” She continued on, giving all the gossip of the evening to her colleague who was watching the room with an eagle eye while listening to the running commentary, picking out the participants as she discussed them.

“Well it sounds like you have everything well in hand, I’m going to make one last round of the gardens and hustle everyone back this way – don’t want anyone caught outside when I lock the doors.” He grinned maliciously. Actually he would love for that to happen if only to add to his detention attendees. “Are you wrapping this up in a half hour? Yes? Then I’ll be on my way – I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Not if I can help it, I intend to sleep in and then enjoy a relaxing breakfast by my fireside curled up with a book,” she declared. “And so help me, Severus, if you do anything to ruin that...” she warned, shaking a finger in his direction.

“I shall try my utmost to contain all the complaining children to my classroom,” he agreed, bowing slightly in her direction and backing away to begin his last sweep of the grounds.

She smiled indulgently after him, then gave the signal to the band leader that this was their last set. She had to stay until the last teenager was safely on their way back to their dorm and then the House-elves could take over returning the winter wonderland setting of the party to the dull, everyday visage of the wooden-beamed Great Hall complete with long wooden tables and benches. The Cinderella’s would have to return to their regular lives, packing away their fancy dresses, fine robes and stiletto heels.

Severus woke up bright and early on Boxing Day; he was expecting a full slate of students to be showing up in two hours at his classroom door. All of them would have cowered if they had seen the decidedly evil smirk that was on his face at that thought.

After making his steady and unhurried way through his morning ablutions, he donned a set of comfortable black robes and went across the hall to check on Harry and Draco.

Two tousled heads of hair met his sight, both with just their noses peeking out from the covers. Draco was sprawled under his covers, lightly snoring – although he would swear until he was blue in the face that he would never do so. Harry was curled up tightly into a small ball, only a very slight movement of a strand of hair near his nose betraying that he was still alive.

Severus sighed to himself as he gazed on his raven-haired son. Too many years cramped in that cupboard caused this guarded position at night – even to this day. He was fairly certain that no amount of time would heal something that deep in the boy’s psyche.

As he approached Harry’s bed, the boy opened his eyes and drew down the blanket just enough to look blearily up at his father.

“Wha’ time is it?” he yawned, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Seven. Go back to sleep; I’m heading upstairs to breakfast before I start detention.” He tucked Harry in as the boy unconsciously relaxed, stretching out his legs. Severus sat on the edge of the smoothed out covers, gently pushing the hair out of his son’s eyes. “What are your plans today?”

“We were going to get started on the homework, meeting up with the others in the library after lunch. How long are you going to be doing the detentions?” Harry whispered.

“Oh, all day.” Severus smirked and his son chuckled, cutting it off when he heard Draco snorting in his sleep. He stole a hasty glance toward the other side of the room and when he was sure his brother wasn’t waking, sighed in relief.

“Well, have fun then; I’m sure you have all sorts of disgusting things for them to do.”

“I do indeed. Don’t sleep in too late, and I will see you tonight at dinner. We will be Portkeying to the manor to have dinner with Narcissa. Please let Miss Granger know that she is invited as well and to wear a dinner frock.”

“Will do, Dad.” Harry sketched a military salute before turning over onto his side and drawing his knees up again – but not as tightly as when he was truly asleep. Severus smiled as he passed a loving hand over the messy locks of hair, then rose quietly to head upstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Walking through the wide open doors, Severus found the room back to its normal configuration, weak winter sunlight pouring through the tall cathedral windows, and flocks of owls winging in through the open slots above the enchanted ceiling, which showed clouds scudding through the sky.

The tables were sparsely populated with the students who had to be up early in order to attend the detentions they had earned the previous evening. All were dressed  appropriately, knowing what they would probably be doing: cleaning and dealing with messes.

Severus strode up to the head table, noting he was the only teacher in attendance this early in the morning. As he sat at his customary place, he garnered many indignant looks from the doomed students who had been forced to cut their festivities short the previous evening and he let them all slide off his back as he took the proffered copy of the Daily Prophet that the delivery owl presented him. They got themselves into this mess by misbehaving – they could bloody well just take the consequences.

Pouring himself a strong cup of tea, he then placed a hearty breakfast on his plate as he did not intend to eat lunch – preferring to save room for his House-elves cooking that evening.

Opening the paper, he was not surprised to see pictures of the opening of the ball, with the Champions dancing with their partners and a large photo of the Headmaster, arms open, starting the festivities. The accompanying article was full of fluff, although it did reveal Hagrid’s secret of being a half-giant. This would not be good. He resolved to go see Hagrid over lunch to make sure he was alright.

Now that he thought about it, he did not remember even seeing a reporter at the event last night, much less a photographer. Not even the Creevey brothers had been there with their ever present cameras. So, who had taken the pictures and how had Skeeter gained the information about Hagrid? Not that the teachers didn’t know about his parentage – it was quite obvious if you knew what to look for – but the general public and students tended to be ignorant, or pretended to be. That would not be the case now.

Losing his appetite, he finished off his tea and folded the paper up, tucking it under his arm as he left by the teacher’s entrance to the dais. The students in the hall panicked and rushed from the tables, hoping to beat their teacher to his classroom.

Viktor Krum was just entering the castle after eating down at his ship and his eyes grew wide as Theodore Nott grabbed his arm and dragged him with the horde of others clattering towards the dungeons entrance.

“Snape left breakfast early, we have to get down there now or we are toast!” the gruff Slytherin explained.

“’Ee doesn’t scare me!” Viktor declared, shaking off his companion’s grip.

“He should! Didn’t you figure that out the other day? He was not in a good mood when he left the table and we are all going to suffer for it. Now c’mon!” he urged, taking off at a run.

Thinking back to what the dour Potions master had made him do so far, Krum realised that the better part of valour might be to arrive before the man did and show himself ready for the days exertions so he began to jog to catch up.

The students were panting as they arrived, all thirty of them, in the cold dank corridor. An amplified voice told them to come in, already, and they opened the door to the classroom to find an unruffled professor sitting behind his desk; Argus Filch with a Mrs Norris wrapped around his shoulders giving the students a decidedly evil glare, standing next to him. Snape was writing on a short piece of parchment and as the students walked in to stand before the desk, he placed the quill in its stand, blotted the excess ink and handed the list to the caretaker.

He turned towards the waiting students. “Mr Filch has a list of those students who will be joining him today. Some of you earned detentions with both of us.” He sent a glare directly at Krum who stood his ground, staring straight ahead – his only show of guilt a quick bob of his Adams Apple. “When Mr Filch reads your name, please go join him. He will let you know how many days you will be with him. If you still have detentions after this week, you will be returning to my classroom each day next week after classes have resumed at seven p.m. sharp until your required detentions have been fulfilled. I expect you all to be quiet, courteous and non-complaining or I will add additional days and remove more points. Is that clear?”

A communal “Yes,Sir,” was heard and Filch began to read the names off his list. Krum resignedly joined the Squib’s group and marched out of the room with his head down.

“Now, the rest of you,” Severus intoned as he eyed the remaining students, glad he didn’t have to put up with Krum until the following week. “Third and Fourth years, start scrubbing the desks, floors and walls – your compatriots have been quite messy this term. I want the place shining for the start of term. No magic is to be used; only elbow grease – buckets, scrub brushes and sponges are down the hall to your left in the maintenance cupboard. Fifth years, you will be cleaning and writing up new labels for the potions storage cabinet. I want those vials sparkling and every last speck of dust removed. Again, no magic. Miss Jurgenson, I believe your hand is the neatest – you will be making out the new labels for those that are torn or faded. Supplies are in that drawer over there. Sixth years, you will be spending the week preparing specimens for the term and Seventh, you will be brewing base potions: supplies and instructions are at that station over there. Now get to work!” he barked.

The students scattered to their assignments and Severus sat back at his desk to oversee the busy little bees. He picked up his book he had started the other evening and began to read.

****

Harry and Draco slowly wound their way up from the dungeons to a late breakfast, book bags slung over their shoulders. They had awoken to Salazar practically giggling in his portrait as he relayed Severus’ detention plans to the younger Snapes. Grinning themselves, they prepared for the day and had headed upstairs to join their friends for a late brunch.

Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table, tears welling in her eyes as she gripped the morning paper with white knuckles. Pansy, of all people, was sitting next to her trying to calm the lioness down. She looked up as the brothers sat down, noting the rest of their group from the previous evening were all eating at the same table regardless of House affiliation.

“Hermione?” Harry asked quietly. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s that foul woman!” she hissed, slamming the paper down. “I didn’t even see her last night! How did she get in? Where was she? Maybe polyjuiced to look like a student?” She shook her head violently, scattering teardrops down her face, which she quickly scrubbed away before shoving the paper across the table towards her friends.

“Bottom of the page, eighth paragraph of the article on the ball. I swear...” she mumbled to herself as Pansy patted the girl’s back in a vain attempt to calm her down. Harry and Draco flipped the paper over, perusing the article until they hit upon the paragraph in question.

“A half-giant? I didn’t know giants still existed,” Harry said wonderingly.

“I just thought he had overdosed on an engorgement potion...” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of egg. Daphne glared at him from her place on the other side of Pansy. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trouncing all over her feet and ruining her robes the night before.

“They don’t!” Hermione exclaimed. “At least not in Britain. Hagrid’s mum was the last one to leave. They are all somewhere in the Ural mountains now, I think,” she explained pedantically. “But that’s beside the point. She’s painting him as some evil, dangerous, half-breed who is out to hurt us! He wouldn’t hurt a fly! And then she quotes Nott and that ridiculous story from last year with Buckbeak. Urgh! She’s just evil!” She pulled at her hair, making it stand out more than it usually did.

“But I don’t get it,” Draco wondered aloud. “I never saw Skeeter last night nor a photographer. And Nott wasn’t allowed at the dance, so how did she talk to him? Something is fishy here.” He gazed up at the head table where Dumbledore was serenely eating his breakfast while McGonagall was railing at him, albeit quietly – or under a muffling spell – so that the students couldn’t hear, while flourishing the offending piece of journalism under his nose.

“We need to go see Hagrid,” Harry declared. “We’ll have to do it at lunch – I doubt if he would want to see us just yet, but maybe in a few hours...” Draco reluctantly agreed, and the rest voiced their assent as well.

“We shouldn’t all go, though,” the blond stated. “It would be a bit overwhelming if we all showed up. Just let Harry and I go – we know him best of all of us.”

Hermione sniffed back some more tears, but agreed and they all left to head up to the library to begin their back-to-term essays that were all due the following Monday. She leaned gratefully into Draco’s one armed hug as he led her to the second floor, taking his handkerchief gratefully, and Harry followed talking quietly with Pansy. That left Ron to walk with Daphne who was reluctantly following the group, not really having anywhere else to go. Hannah was walking with Neville and Ginny who had attended the ball together. Ron had stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets while stealing red-faced glances to the right to see if he could gauge her reactions.

“Umm, I – uh – wanted to apologise for last night,” he finally blurted out.

“About time,” she mumbled. “Those robes cost me a shiny sickle, Ron Weasley! And now they are ruined! I can’t even hope to get that stain out... and my feet are still sore!” she complained.

“I said I was sorry! I even said it last night! I’m pants at dancing,” he muttered.

“Noooo, really?” she said sarcastically. He looked over at her from under his messy, red fringe and caught her smirking at him. He smiled back shyly in response.

“I really tried,” he insisted. “But McGonagall only taught us the waltz.”

“I have to admit you did passably well at that one.” She fingered the snowflake necklace she was still wearing. “And, I can even admit that you know how to pick out good gifts, so – I guess I’ll forgive you this time.”

He smiled broadly at this, relief evident in his face and they hurried to catch up with the rest. “I bet my mum will know how to get the stain out – want me to owl her this afternoon and see?”

****

“Hagrid,” Harry called out, knocking hard on the wooden plank door. “C’mon, I know you’re in there!”

“G’ ‘way!” came the husky pleading voice of the clearly inebriated half-giant.

“Hagrid, let us in – we don’t care what that Harpy wrote about you!” Draco yelled through the door cracks.

“’M a danger!” Hagrid cried out, a loud honking indicating he was blowing his nose. “She said so!”

“Bullocks!” Harry exclaimed. “Now let us in!” He pounded harder on the door. But there was no answering response.

“Harry, Draco, what’s the matter?” Severus said as he tromped through the snow up to the door of hut.

“Hagrid won’t let us in and he sounds drunk and weepy. He believes what she said in that nasty article,” Draco explained, Harry bobbing his head in agreement.

“Hmm, let me try.” He walked up the short flight of steps, the boys retreating down them to make way. Knocking loudly, he called out to his friend. “Hagrid, It’s Professor Snape – let us in, please.”

“Per’fes’r? Yeh should go ‘way. I’m a danger! Not fit to teach...”

Harry was about to cry out when Severus waved him to stay quiet. “That’s absolute nonsense and you know it, Hagrid. I wouldn’t let you watch the boys for me if I though that way. Now open up the door and let’s discuss this rationally!”

They waited a moment as they heard heavy furniture being moved – apparently away from the door, causing all three Snapes to raise their eyebrows in astonishment – and then a red-eyed Hagrid cracked the door open and reluctantly waved the family in.

“Did yeh really mean that, sair?” he asked, tears still evident in his voice as he went over to his chair and plopped down in it.

“Of course, Hagrid; I trust you with their lives – and there are very few people who have that privilege,” Severus assured him. “And the headmaster isn’t going to let you go over one inflammatory article, especially when he has known your parentage all along.”

“But the parents...”

“Bugger the parents,” Snape exclaimed, causing his boys to share astonished glances. Their father almost never swore! “They don’t make policy. Ignore it, Hagrid. We all know you are the gentlest of all people – anyone watching you with a newborn animal knows that straight off. Nott was just mouthing off to the press and I’m still investigating to find out how she got in without me being aware of it! And when I do, I’ll make her print a retraction!”

“But it’s true, Perfess’r. I am a half-giant, my mum was Fridwulfa. Her kin did help You-Know-Who...” He began crying great huge tears again and pulled a very large handkerchief from his pocket and buried his face in it, wailing loudly.

Severus walked over and stood next to the man, calmly patting his shoulders in sympathy until he calmed down again, casting a sobriety spell discretely. “That may all be true, but her accusations about your own nature are not. We are not our parents, Hagrid – you know that!”

The shaggy head nodded reluctantly. Harry and Draco walked closer then, as one, attacked the half-giant with huge hugs, climbing onto his lap like children half their age to get a better grip around his neck. He laughed in shock then his own ham like arms came up to embrace them as well.

Mopping his face again with his kerchief, he let the boys sit on his knees like a mountain man version of St Nick and Severus pulled up a wooden stool after procuring tea for everyone. They talked out the rest of the hour and the three Snapes left behind a more content grounds-keeper who promised not to let the journalist get to him and with promises from the boys that they would be down every afternoon to help him tend to his ‘pets’.

With the bright sun out, the snow sculptures were beginning to melt and turn into slushy messes on the ground, and the threesome had to cast warming and drying charms on their bottom halves when they entered the entry hall of the castle. Harry and Draco headed into the Great Hall to snatch a sandwich to tide them over until dinner, enjoying the sight of a scowling Krum washing the windows that faced out into the entry way, while Severus returned to the Dungeons to oversee the remainder of today’s detention duty.

Harry piled sandwich halves and crisps onto his plate before reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice. “So what are you getting Calista for her Birthday?” he asked his brother.

“I made her something – just a toy – but I designed it and dad helped me make it. What about you?”

“I ordered a fairy tale book. Hermione recommended it; it is a mixture of Wizard and Muggle fairy tales – and a stuffed unicorn I saw in a catalogue. I couldn’t resist it, it was so cute.” He smiled in remembrance. “I have no idea what Hermione got her, but I’m sure it’s fine, she has a knack for picking out gifts,” he remarked. He caught Draco’s blush out of the side of his eye and whipped around to confront him.

“You like her, don’t you!” he practically crowed in delight.

“I... uh...” Uncharacteristically, Draco sputtered then stopped, realising he sounded like a fool, and just nodded his head.

“I knew it!” Harry’s grin nearly split his face.

“Shush! Weasley is going to kill me... you mean you don’t mind?” Draco asked wonderingly.

“I think it’s brilliant! You two are the perfect match! Much better than Pansy – she was just never your type. I think she’s over you, by the way,” he said conspiratorially.

“Yeah, now she is all over you – the Tri-wizard tied for first place wunderkind.” Draco snorted his opinion.

“I don’t mind, really, I kind of like her. Not romantically, but just as a friend. I like hanging out with her.”

“She’s alright when she’s not after you for your last name,” his brother said darkly. “She is one of the few I miss from there – but as a friend, not as a promised wife. I don’t know what Lucius was thinking when he set that up. Glad I don’t have that around my neck anymore!” he said with a contented sigh.

“Hmm, I wonder if my parents would’ve done that...” Harry pondered.

“Doubt it; the Princes were notorious for going against arranged marriages. They were always proponents for love matches – said they lasted longer and were healthier. Probably were right when you think about it. Purebloods are a messed up bunch of people – and I can say that, I am one!” He threw a crisp in his mouth and crunched it to emphasise his point. “And Dad doesn’t believe in them either, I can tell you that. So, we don’t have to worry about dynastic leanings from him. Doesn’t mean to say there won’t be people who wouldn’t approach him about contracts between their daughters and us, I’m sure there has been and will be more as we approach legal age. But he will never enter us into one of those.”

“You think he’s already been approached?” Harry asked astounded.

“I would not be surprised. Ask him, if you are curious,” Draco suggested.

“I might do that.” He snorted in amusement. “Wonder what the going price is for one Boy-Who-Lived?”

“At least a few manor houses and several vaults at Gringotts,” Draco teased.

“Don’t forget the camels and sheep – all good marriage transactions must include those!” Harry laughed.

“But of course!” They continued laughing through lunch adding even more ridiculous requirements onto Harry’s brideprice. By the time they had headed back up to the Library to finish their essay draft, they were both in pretty good moods. Of course passing Filch supervising the clean-up crew just added to the hilarity.

They were sobered down immediately when Hermione looked him straight in the eye and asked whether he had solved the egg clue yet. Harry had to admit he hadn’t even thought about it since the weekend he’d rescued it.

“Well you better start figuring it out, Harry; you only have six weeks left!”

“More than enough time, Hermione – leave off,” he said irritably.

Hermione looked hurt at that, but he wasn’t in that forgiving of a mood. His friend had a tendency to nag about things and he just wouldn’t put up with it – no matter how right she was.

“I’m only trying to help!” she said. Draco laid a comforting hand on her arm, shooting a glare at his brother-with-a-big-mouth.

Harry gulped. “I know you are, ‘Mione. Six weeks is a long time – and we need to get this homework done before Monday morning; a much closer deadline, don’t you agree?” he pleaded, using his puppy-dog look that always worked on his dad.

“Well, yes, but...” she tottered.

“No ‘buts’, Hermione. This has to be done first – if we have time at the end of the week, I promise you can take a listen to the egg. You’re not going to like it – but I’ll let you listen.” Hermione chewed on her lower lip as she pondered the proposal until she sighed in resignation.

Harry smiled at her in understanding and thanks then cracked open his History text to begin taking notes.

A knock on the door sent Draco to answer it, grinning as he saw Hermione in a knee length dress and short matching pumps, carrying her wrap and gaily wrapped box. Her hair had been plaited in a French Braid, the tail tucked up with the jewelled clasp Draco had given her.

“You look perfect, Hermione,” he complimented, leading her over to the sitting area and offering her a choice of drink.

“Thank you, Draco! You look dapper, as always,” she returned, admiring his blazer and turtleneck combination, all in shades of charcoal grey, setting off his platinum looks. “Where’s Harry?” she asked, looking around.

“Getting ready – he should be here in a moment. So, what did you get your god-daughter?” he asked, smirking.

Hermione blushed; she had been pleasantly shocked when Narcissa had sent her a note that summer asking her to accept the honoured position. “I knitted her a little sweater set. I’ve been getting pretty good at the knitting and I can use the knitting charms at school... Mrs Weasley helped me pick out the yarn... Anyway, I hope it fits.” She fiddled with the bow on the gift box, alternately straightening and puffing it up in her nervousness.

“I’m sure it will,” Draco soothed, as Severus walked in – also wearing a Muggle blazer and turtleneck. His Blazer was black, however and the shirt was a deep emerald green. 

“Miss Granger, I’ve been wishing to speak to you about your House-elf campaign. I recently ran across Dobby who was wearing numerous knitted watch-caps. Care to explain?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

She immediately took the defensive. “Professor, it is criminal how the Wizarding world treats House-elves. They are unpaid slave labour! If I can free just one, I’ll be doing them a service!”

“Hermione, have you ever talked to a House-elf? Besides Dobby? He doesn’t count – he’s just nutters,” Draco dismissed. “They like what they do; it is in their nature to be bonded to a Wizard family.”

“Why in the world would anyone WANT to be a slave?” she retorted, her eyes flashing with passion.

“They are not slaves; they are bonded to a place or family. If they weren’t, their magic would destroy them. This way, they have purpose and someone to watch over them. There are still some clans – like Runeskin’s – that retain the old ways and for those elves, they serve under their own volition and are paid for their work – just like any other servant or worker. But most of the clans lost their way, the magic they held was too strong and it destroyed them. Bonding served as a way to control the runaway magic, guiding it towards a useful end. They really do prefer it this way,” Severus explained gently. “And they do not appreciate being tricked into being freed. As a result, no other elf has cleaned the Gryffindor rooms – only Dobby will perform the task.”

Hermione hung her head and Draco put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I didn’t know... I looked in the library, I really did – but there is not much information – this would be unheard of in the Muggle world,” she said despondently. “Dobby seemed so happy to be free, I just thought...”

“Dobby was happy because he was free from my sire, the sadistic bastard!” Draco explained. “Most bonded families are not that way with their House-elves. Really, you should go to the kitchens sometime and just talk with the other elves.”

She nodded reflectively, then straightened up as Harry came in, wearing his new Weasley jumper. He always loved the knitted gifts from Ron’s mum and tended to wear them until they fell apart or got too small. He could never understand why the rest of the boys didn’t do the same – the jumpers nearly radiated the love Mrs Weasley had for all of her children and adopted children. In her worldview, any friend of her children was now an adopted child of hers – and they all received a jumper every Yule. This year’s gift was a black jumper edged in emerald and scarlet with a small dragon outlined on the left breast. It was very soft and warm and Harry loved it. He had it pulled over a white shirt with his school tie and, with his hair queued back, emerald glinting in his ear and glasses sparkling in the firelight, he looked quite handsome.

“Are we all ready?” Severus asked, gathering them all in closer. He held out a piece of rope which they all grabbed a bit of, then gasped as one as the Portkey spell took effect.

This time they landed in the lobby of the manor house, Runeskin standing off to the side waiting for them to untangle themselves, as Harry had once again fallen bringing the other three down with him.

“I really need to teach you how to land,” Severus mumbled to his blushing son as he straightened up, brushing non-existent dust off of his jacket.

“Sorry,” Harry murmured back watching in amusement as Draco helped Hermione to her feet, making sure her dress was hanging correctly. She batted his hands away when they strayed too close to forbidden areas, hissing “I’m fine, Draco!”

Runeskin waited patiently as the family sorted themselves then led them to the parlour where Narcissa and Calista were waiting.

Narcissa Black-Malfoy stood graciously, holding a beautiful golden-haired girl in her arms as Severus and the teens approached. Severus walked over, taking the little girl into his arms and leaning over to land a tender kiss on Narcissa’s cheek. He then bestowed a similar buss on the giggling one-year old who threw her arms around her godfather returning his kiss quite wetly causing the entire room to start laughing.

“Well, happy late Birthday, my little princess,” Severus declared, sitting down in his favourite chair and setting the little one on his knee. “Were you a good girl for your mum? Did St Nick bring you lots of delightful presents? Good!” he said as she nodded her head quickly, setting the curls on her head bouncing.

She then slid backwards down off his lap and toddled over to her big brother, lifting her arms up and crying “Dwakie! Tiss!” she demanded. Draco complied, bending down to kiss the toddler on the top of her curls before she went off to steal more kisses from Hermione and Harry.

The evening progressed to dinner then present opening for Calista who squealed at every package she received. She eventually wound down around nine o’clock and Hermione said she would watch the little girl while Severus and Narcissa took a postprandial walk through the conservatory.

He led the aristocrat through the doors into the lush, glass–enclosed space, offering her his arm as they strolled through the warm greenery, the stark contrast of snow falling just on the other side of the glass creating a magical atmosphere.

“How have you been, Cissy – enjoying France?”

“I’ve been worse off – and Calista is a joy to have around. Lucius discovered where I was – stop that!” she threatened when he had stiffened at her news, eyes flashing in dangerous anger. “I didn’t tell you because we were perfectly safe. He can never get in, so don’t even worry. He just figured out where I was when the property disappeared from my accounting books. He can’t see it, all he knows is the general location and he periodically stands outside firing curses at the wards. He’s wasting energy – he can’t do anything,” she scoffed.

“Perhaps I should send you to Italy or Greece – I have relatives in both places, the ward magic is different there...” he suggested.

“Severus, stop it. I’m fine – Calista is fine. I forgot how quickly babies grow and develop...” she said wistfully.

Severus smiled down at his friend. “She has at that. Has it really been over a year?” He shook his head in shock. “How time flies...”

“And how is Harry doing in the tournament? I get the papers in my exile – Rita is up to her usual nastiness, I saw.” Her clipped tones betrayed her annoyance with the reporter. She would never dignify the woman by calling her a journalist.

“I never saw her at the ball, Cissy – I’d love to know how she managed to pull that off.”

“She does manage to be in the most opportune places. Anyway, Harry...?” she prompted.

“So far he is doing well. We still have not discovered how his name got placed in the goblet – I’m beginning to wonder if we ever will – but after the initial despair at being singled out again, he has been dealing with the added responsibility quite well. He has had some run-ins with the Durmstrang champion – a bigoted piece of work who Harry realised was abusing his date to the dance. He and his friends managed to rescue the poor girl, and I’ve had the pleasure of the boy’s company all week for detention for other infractions. This week he is with Filch and next week I get him again.” He smirked evilly and Narcissa laughed at the poor sods plight.

“What else did he do?”

“He was drunk,” he stated shortly. She nodded her head knowingly, leaning into her best friend’s side as they sat in the gazebo on a padded bench and watched the stars finally twinkling through the glass roof above them as the snow slowed down and the clouds pulled away from a gibbous moon.

“And Draco,” she asked after a moment.

“He is doing well also. He’s made many new friends – real friends – in Ravenclaw, and he hangs out with Harry’s contingent. Since the dance, they’ve added a few more to their group; Pansy, for one.”

She raised her eyebrow at this. “Really...”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Cissy. He burst that little bubble at the beginning of term. She actually attended the dance with Harry and they seem to be quite friendly. No, he seems to be casting an eye over Miss Granger.” He delighted in getting the mother to react, and she didn’t disappoint.

After sputtering a bit, she regained her equilibrium. “Well, I can’t disapprove – I did appoint her Calista Marie’s godmother, after all. I guess I just always assumed he would go for a pureblood...” she prevaricated.

“Because that is what he was taught? But he has been going against the norm for quite awhile, Cissy. This is no different. And, I must admit, she challenges him in a way that Pansy never did. Miss Granger does not see him as a rich catch or an advantageous marriage. She sees Draco, and she challenges him to keep up with her. That witch is going places – if she survives being Harry’s friend,” he added darkly. He was a realist and he knew that it was just a matter of time before the Dark Lord rose again, if he hadn’t already and was just biding his time. And anyone connected with his son would be a target.

Narcissa leaned against his side, hugging his arm tightly, lending comfort physically that words could not express adequately. After a moment he leaned down and kissed the crown of her head very gently allowing a little frisson of sentimentality leak through.

“We need to return,” he said quietly. She nodded and let him help her up, standing in the circle of his arms for a moment.

“Thank you, Severus,” she murmured against his chest.

“For what?”

“For letting us be safe, for loving my son and giving him a home and family, for letting me be in his life... for being you.” She lifted her head up, looking him in the eyes with sincerity.

“Cissy, you know if I could...” She silenced him with a finger against his lips.

“I know – and if you get the chance, you have my permission to take him out. He has forfeited any right to these children and to my love. If my father hadn’t constructed the marriage bans the way he had, I’d be able to be free of him and to do what my heart says it wants me to do – to be with you,” she said throatily.

He leaned down and let their lips touch in a bitter-sweet kiss, for just a moment, before releasing her. Sighing, he tucked her arm against his side and led her along the meandering gravel path that returned them to the entrance and a short walk later they arrived back in the Parlour to find the boys playing chess, and Hermione ensconced in a wingback chair, asleep with Calista curled up on her chest. A thumb was wetly tucked in the rosebud mouth and someone had tucked a rug around the pair of them.

“Were we gone that long?” Severus wondered out loud.

Draco snorted as he moved one of his men.

“Over an hour, dad,” Harry supplied the answer before he crowed with delight. “Gotcha! Check and mate!” Draco stared at the board while his queen shook her sceptre at him.

“I must really be tired...” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. He blinked up at his mother. “Have a nice walk?”

“Delightful,” she admitted, smiling back at him as she went to gather up her daughter and gently wake the sleeping godmother. “Come along, poppet, time to go home!” The little girl transferred her snuggling to her mother, closing her eyes again quickly. Severus helped Narcissa on with her cloak, handing a bag to Runeskin with all the shrunken gifts and escorted the pair over to the floo room. He stole one more tender kiss from his friend before throwing a handful of powder into the grate and whispering the name of her destination. He watched her step into the emerald flames and swirl out of sight before returning to the parlour to gather together his own children and return them all to the school.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harry was glad that classes had started again; it had been a good holiday for the most part, but he always liked the routine that a regular school schedule gave him. Of course Hermione was starting to subtly remind him that the second task was fast approaching and he still had no idea what kind of clue the egg was supposed to be giving him. As he wandered out one brisk January afternoon to sit on his favourite rock between the edge of the forest and the shoreline of the lake, he wondered if the rest of the Champions were having the same problem.

He huddled in his cloak, muffler wrapped warmly around his neck as he chucked pebbles that lay scattered on the top of the boulder into the rim-frosted water. His breath puffed around his face, periodically fogging his glasses as he stared out over the water, his interest captured by the Durmstrang students walking back to their ship after classes. The group had chosen not to stay in the castle for the year, preferring their own accommodations whereas the Beauxbatons group had eagerly accepted Dumbledore’s offer of beds and had been split up between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff for the duration.

Harry nearly jumped a foot when he heard a branch crack behind him, and he whirled around, his wand appearing in his hand simultaneously. He sighed in relief a moment later when Diggory raised his hands placatingly and walked slowly from the shadows of the trees. Harry snapped his wand back into its sheath and ran a calming hand over Silicia’s head as she peeked out to see what had startled her friend.

“Cedric! You nearly gave me heart failure,” Harry exclaimed. Cedric chuckled as he walked over to sit next to the smaller boy.

“Sorry about that – I was just about to hail you when I stepped on the branch. Scared me too! Glad you don’t hex first and ask questions later!”

“You never know – now if it had been Nott or Krum...”

“Understood, Snape.” He gazed around at the barren surroundings, shivering slightly in the breeze that was picking up as the sun slowly began it’s descent towards the horizon. “Do you come out here a lot?” he asked as Harry resumed his watch of the Durmstrang boat and tossing pebbles into the lake.

“Now and then,” the fourth-year replied. “Helps me think when I can get away from all the ruckus back there,” He pointed a thumb back over his shoulder before throwing the hand forward again to release another stone. They watched as it plunked down hard onto the thin ice and cracked it, lines radiating out from the impact point before it fell through into the black, icy waters. The two Champions grinned at each other for a moment.

“Have you figured out the second clue?” Diggory asked, grabbing a pebble from the pile himself and tried to skip it across the ice.

“Nope. You?” Harry asked, watching as the pebble skipped three times before falling off the edge of the rim-ice into the open water.

“Not a clue. Does yours screech like a dozen banshees?”

“Oh, yeah – Dad makes me cast quite a few room silencing charms before opening it. I still can’t make heads or tails out of it... Hey, what’s Krum doing?” he asked, grabbing his companions arm and watching as the Seeker walked out onto the deck of the ship in nothing but an old-fashioned striped bathing costume, towel slung over his shoulders.

Deciding to watch, but not wanting to be seen, the two scrambled quickly off their rock and headed back into the edge of the forest a little closer to the ship where they got a better view of the duck-footed Quidditch star.

“He’s carrying something...” Cedric whispered. “It’s – the egg!”

“What the hell...” Harry murmured as he watched the Champion hold the golden egg in his hands as he climbed onto the railing of the ship, leaving the large towel tossed onto the deck. “Is he... Merlin, he is going to...

“Jump!” they both hissed as they watched him spring feet first into the chilly black waters of the lake. They watched, breathless, as he bobbed back up to the surface, shaking the water from his face as he raised the egg partially out of the water, slapping his hand down on the top button that released the sides of it. A loud wailing was cut off as he shoved the egg back under the water, following it quickly after taking a deep breath. A watery melody could be heard as the sound travelled back towards the shore – greatly reduced in intensity. It almost sounded like a proper tune, now.

The frozen Hogwarts students watched closely as the Durmstrang competitor rose up three times to get air before plunging back under the water before seeming satisfied with what he had gleaned. He paddled over to the ship and began to climb the ladder up the side to reach the deck high above him. Harry and Diggory waited until they saw him go back into the bowels of the ship before slipping away back to the castle. They knew what they each had to do now: find a body of water deep enough to accommodate the egg and their body in order to properly hear the message. They parted inside the front entrance, with nods to each other – each bent on their mission at hand.

Harry headed back up to the Gryffindor tower where he sketched a quick hello to the students who were milling around in the Common Room before marching up the stairs to his dorm. No one was in the round tower room and he threw his bag onto his bed as he went to the trunk at the foot. Wandlessly, he unlocked the padlocks and lifted the lid, digging under the piles of clothes until his hand connected with the slick, metallic surface of the egg. He pulled it out and stuffed it into his bag, happy that there were expanding charms inside of it so that the bulge of the egg didn’t show.

He wrote a note to Ron saying he was going down to his dad’s quarters for the evening, then left quickly – not wanting to lose any time.

He moved through the castle in near ecstasy as he realised he was finally going to figure this out on his own. 

Giving the password to the portrait, he hurried inside his father’s rooms calling out for him as he entered.

“Harry?” came the echoing answer. “I’m in the lab, son, you may come in.”

Harry gratefully dumped his bag onto the divan as he crossed the room to the lab entrance. “Dad, can I borrow your tub?”

“Mine, why not just use yours?”Severus asked, his brow furrowed as he eyed his progeny from his place behind a cauldron. “For that matter, why not use one up in the tower? I happen to know you have perfectly good bathtubs up there.”

“Yes, but they aren’t deep enough and I’m not a prefect so I can’t use the huge one in the Prefect bath. You have a large Roman tub – I need one that I can stand up in... It’s the egg, Dad – I have to listen to the egg under water! Cedric and I happened upon Krum doing that this afternoon in the lake – and I’m not doing it there either!” he clarified.

“I don’t blame you,” his father murmured in half-amusement. “Fine,” he waved his hand in the air as if to shoo the boy along. “Go borrow my tub. But, you better leave it in mint condition when you are done! Don’t forget to cast the drying charms...”

“Yes, Dad; thanks, Dad,” Harry intoned as he backed out of the lab, mock salaaming his father in the process.

“Cheeky brat,” Severus grinned as he returned to his potion. Fairly soon he heard the water in the pipes beginning their steady flow as they filled up the ultra deep, luxurious tub.

****

Harry watched as the tub filled with steamy water – he saw no reason that the water had to be near freezing in temperature for this manoeuvre – a large fluffy towel wrapped around his waist and the egg sitting patiently on the edge of the wide marble lip that surrounded the lap-length tub. There were quite a number of taps that were around the edge that filled the depression so that it did not take long for the four foot deep area to fill up to the edge.

A wave of his hand and the faucets turned off and he was mounting the steps to the rim, removing the towel and slipping into the warm scented water, feeling the heat sink into his bones and feeling so good after his hour spent outside in the winter wind. He swam a few strokes just relishing the feeling before he floated back to the edge where the egg lay waiting for him, glinting in the refracted and reflected light from the sconces bouncing off the water.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged the egg under the water following it quickly and pressing the button on the top end, releasing the petals that folded back. A wave of eerie music floated back to him and he grinned as he realised he could understand what they were saying.

****

“Hermione, I need to talk to you after dinner,” Harry said as he slid onto the bench amongst his friends, long hair still gleaming wetly in the candlelight above the tables. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat and Hermione was curious as to why.

“Um, sure, Harry – what’s going on?” she asked idly.

“I’ll tell you in the library. The rest of you are welcome, too – I just didn’t want this to be talked about at dinner,” he said cagily.

“I have a regular study room I use,” she offered. “We can set up silencing spells so no one can overhear us.”

He grinned over at her. “That would be great, ‘Mione, thanks.”

The others looked at him curiously, but knew he would reveal whatever was making him happy in time. They didn’t catch the look that passed between him and Diggory as the Hufflepuff Captain entered the Great Hall. He decided to take the long way around to his table and as he passed by Harry’s section of the Gryffindor table he stopped a moment.

“Alright there, Snape?”

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed with a nod as the other boy winked at him before continuing on.

****

Harry sat on the corner of the table that had been scooted to the back wall of the study cubicle to make room for his group of friends. He waited until Draco signalled him from the back that everyone was in before setting the silencing charms. He dragged the egg out of his book bag and held it in his lap as he gazed happily at his mates.

“I finally solved it. Well, at least as to how to listen to it. Now I need to figure out the clue.” He waited patiently while everyone jabbered at him, exclaiming their surprise and trepidations.

“So, it’s actually a song that can only be heard under water. Cedric and I saw Krum jump into the lake with his egg this afternoon and we could just barely hear music coming across the water from his egg. So when we got back to the castle, Cedric probably headed to the prefect bath,” he said, amused as Hermione bobbed her head in agreement. “And I headed down to Dad’s rooms where he has a four foot deep roman lap tub.” Draco snorted, but quickly shut up when Hermione elbowed him. “Yeah, I know,” Harry agreed. He and his brother would constantly wheedle their dad to let them take a bath in the big black tub, and it was a rare opportunity when he would allow them to do so.

“So what does it say?” Hermione asked.

“Here, I wrote it down.” Harry handed out several sheets of parchment with a poem written on it. Hermione’s eyes glazed over as she read the clue.

“This does not sound good, Harry,” she stated after studying the clue for a few minutes.

“I know. What lives in the black lake?” he asked the knowledgeable witch.

“Hang on,” she said slipping out the door and returning a moment later with a thin volume that she was perusing as she walked up where he still sat on the table edge. “Here,” she said holding the book open to a page with a list of the lakes inhabitants.

Besides various types of fish both magical and non, there were Grindylows, the giant squid, Mermaids, a cousin of the Loch Ness monster and various other denizens of the deep.

“Mermaids...” Harry murmured. “Definitely not good.”

“No, nor is the time limit. Harry, can you swim?” she asked with a worried tone in her voice.

He shook his head. “Not very well. Dad tried to teach me this summer, but we didn’t get much further than floating and really basic strokes. I can swim in his tub – but that’s only four feet deep.”

“Well this lake is over a hundred metres in depth in several places,” she informed him. “And according to this clue you have to retrieve something from its depths – most probably in the Mermaid colony. You can’t hold your breath that long.” He gave her a look which she interpreted as ‘Well, duh!’ “Sorry, of course you know that. So, we need to find some way of letting you breathe underwater...”

“And I need to study up on these species to find out how to get by each of them,” he added.

“And we need to worry about this...” Draco looked down at his copy of the poem “Taken what you’ll sorely miss” he quoted. “I wonder what that’s all about?”

“Well it’s obvious,” Pansy stated. “He has to have some reason to go into the lake and retrieve something – it has to be something that the Champions would never want to be without – something precious, otherwise where’s the motivation? And they have to time it somehow so they have some way of rewarding points. Seems simple enough to me.” She crossed her arms and stared down at the blond.

“Right,” Harry said, trying to break the tension. “We have three weeks until the second task, I’d best get to work. If anyone has any good ideas as to how to survive an hour in the lake, let me know. I think I’ll just set up shop in here,” he said looking around the cubicle. His friends started to leave and Draco and Ron helped him reset the room while Hermione went out into the stacks, returning several minutes later with a huge stack of books that Draco halved for her before she dropped the entire load. Harry sighed, but sat down and removed a stack of parchment, quill and ink bottle from his bag before reaching for the top book and flipping back to the index to see if anything caught his eye.

****

A week later, Harry had amassed a large stack of notes that he now had scattered on his dad’s parlour floor. He was dividing it up into smaller stacks of types of methods to reach his goal – namely surviving underwater.

He had transfiguration, charms, spellwork and herbology. The last had been one entry given to him by Neville, of all people, when the boy had heard what was going on one night in the dorm. He had handed Harry a book and pointed to a page that showed a picture of what looked like a tangled pile of gummy worms, but were in fact an herb called gillyweed. Harry had added it to the pile of notes, not sure if he would be able to eat something that squirmed around like that.

Severus walked in carrying a large stack of midterms that he piled on his home desk and came to stand over his son who was stretched out on the rug, legs waving in the air and head propped up on one hand, staring at the four stacks of parchment with a glazed look in his eyes.

“What is all this?” he asked, reaching out a hand to stop the legs before they hit him somewhere disastrous. Harry turned his head to gaze up at his father.

“Ways to breathe underwater for at least an hour.”

“The second task? You know this for sure?”

Harry reached forward and snagged a smaller bit of parchment that had been off to the side, holding it up for his father to take it.

Severus sat down in his chair and began to read.

“Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you’re searching, ponder this:

We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,

An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour – the prospect’s black,

Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”[i]

He stared down at his son for a moment, then grunted in amazement.

“Yeah, that was my opinion as well,” Harry agreed. “Anyways, Hermione and Draco – and well, just about all of my friends, helped me find books with ways to survive in the water. It’s just that some of these spells are really advanced – way past where we are at. I thought about using Accio and summoning breathing gear – you know, like what Muggles use when snorkelling? But Hermione talked me out of that one. Said it would look strange for a big tank to go flying around the countryside. I guess I can see her point.” He shuffled some papers around. “We then thought about human transfiguration – but I don’t have time to become an Animagus and the other spells are just too complicated for me, yet. So, we thought of charms and we found some good ones – this one here seems to be the best,” He had sat up and was now leaning against his father’s chair and leg and he grabbed the top sheet off of the second pile, handing it up to Severus.

“Ah, yes, the bubblehead charm. This is also advanced, but well within your talents, Harry. The trick will be getting it to last long enough. I use this quite a lot when I’m dealing with noxious fumes in the lab. It takes concentration. What else do you have?” he asked setting the slip of parchment on top of the poem.

“Well, we looked for transfiguring potions, but couldn’t find any that weren’t illegal or didn’t include class IV ingredients,” he began.

“And polyjuice is not recommended for use with Human to animal transformations. Next?”

Harry handed up the lone slip of paper from Neville’s contribution.

“Ah, gillyweed. Of course; Longbottom – smart lad when it comes to Herbology.” Harry nearly choked when he heard his dad praising Neville. “Don’t be too surprised, Harry. The boy is an absolute genius in the greenhouses. Pity, that knowledge isn’t transferred to when those plants are used. However, he has yet to explode a cauldron this term, so things are improving with his tutoring. I do have one specimen of gillyweed in the storeroom, but let’s use that as a last alternative. There is a lot of discussion as to whether the effects last as long in fresh water as they do in salt water – and you don’t want the gills to disappear half-way back up to the surface.” He tapped the previous sheet with his finger.

“I think the charm would be your best choice. We shall start teaching it to you this weekend. Now, I’m starving, have you had anything yet? No? I believe they’ve stopped serving upstairs, so we shall dine in this evening and then I’ll walk you up to your dorm.” He ruffled the teen’s hair where it was leaning against his knee.

“Good work, Harry. I’m proud of you.” Harry beamed up at him then reached over to gather together his notes and put them away.

****

Harry wandered into dinner a few days later, looking a bit worse for wear; robes mussed, tie nearly undone, hair wet and a snarled mess. He plonked his pile of books down on the bench and sat next to them, burying his head in his folded arms.

“Just let me die here and now...” he mumbled to no one in particular.

“What if we gave you a great pick-me-up...” one twin started.

“...the kind that will keep you laughing for a long while?” the other finished. Harry just waved his hand in the air to let them know they should continue.

“Well, we have been working on our joke products this year...” Harry knew this, having witnessed their several marketing attempts in the common room.

“And we have decided that we need a much wider audience,” George continued.

“Correct, brother mine. To that end we have devised a demonstration of sorts. At everyone’s seat tonight will be a toffee crème that we’ve invented. Well, actually...” Fred hedged.

“At every Slytherin’s seat. Everyone else gets a regular toffee,” explained George.

Harry actually perked up at this, willing to raise his head up and look at the two pranksters. “And what will it do?”

“Not quite sure – depends on who gets what.”

“Yes, we gave the elves an assortment...”

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking like his father for a scary moment. “Don’t let Hermione know that; she’ll bust you for including them in on one of your pranks,” he warned them.

“Never fear... they won’t tell on us.” George grinned widely. “Oy, here comes the food now. Budge up there, mate – you need your nutrition if you’re going to win this thing. Although, I have to tell you, your odds spread is eighteen to one.”

“To win?”

“’Fraid so. You’re the smallest one – and word has gotten out you can’t swim. Sorry, mate,” Fred sympathised.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll be doing good just to get down there and back. So, when will these toffee’s show up?” Harry asked, dishing himself some roast beef and jacket potatoes, smothering it all in a rich, brown gravy. It was one of his favourite meals the elves made and he dug in with relish.

“For afters, so eat up. So what happened to you that you’re such a mess?” Fred enquired.

“Dad and Moody. I’m starting to learn a Bubblehead charm – and they are spelling things around it to see how sturdy it is. Water is the hardest,” he explained between bites.

“Eh, you’ll get it, don’t worry,” George predicted.

“From your mouth to Merlin’s ears,” Harry prayed. They continued on in the small chat as more and more of their group wandered in. Hermione took pity on her friend and spelled his hair dry and brushed. Harry always thought that was the weirdest sensation: having an invisible brush go through your hair. But he was grateful for the help, he wasn’t the best when it came to domestic charms, his forte was defensive spellwork.

The word slowly spread down the table to watch the Slytherin table when pudding was served and when the little toffees showed up at everyone’s place, the Gryffindors and their friends chewed contentedly as they glanced at the green and silver house.

They were soon rewarded with a squawk as Theodore Nott suddenly turned into a giant yellow canary, reminiscent of Big Bird from the Muggle children’s show, causing all the Muggle-born and Half-bloods in the room to start laughing uproariously. By the time he had moulted, it was too late and the other Slytherins were experiencing various other effects. Crabbe and Goyle’s tongues suddenly enlarged and elongated, rolling onto the ground like large, pink rat tails. Everyone there had something weird happen to them, from drooping and dripping body parts, to complete transformations that lasted several minutes before returning the partaker back to their original form. All except for Crabbe and Goyle who ended up having to have help rolling their tongues back up and carrying them upstairs to the hospital wing.

“Hmm, a little too much fenugreek on that one, George.”

“I agree, Fred. Have to work on the timing ingredients... Otherwise, it was a good show.” George jotted down his observations in a little notebook before hiding it as McGonagall came barrelling down the aisle.

“You two. Now. My Office,” she said, eyes flashing as the twins sighed heavily and got to their feet as a small wave of applause began to swell through the room. They stood still for a moment, basking in the admiration and taking a few bows, ignoring their Head of House’s tapping foot. Harry saluted them before McGonagall got tired of waiting and grabbed them by their ear-lobes and marched them from the room; a comical sight as she was nearly a foot shorter than the redheads and they protested the entire way.

“Well, I feel better now!” Harry declared and he grabbed his books to head back upstairs to study.

 

 

 

 

 

---

[i] Goblet of Fire, Chapter Twenty-Five

Harry spluttered once again as his Bubblehead charm failed against the barrage of water pressure at the fifteen minute mark.

“Not good enough, Snape!” Moody snarled at him, pacing around the teen through the puddles like a demented pirate – peg leg emphasising each word. “FOCUS!” he yelled, causing Harry to jump.

“I am, Sir! I don’t know why I can’t hold it any longer!” Harry sniped back, frustration overtaking good sense.

“Perhaps,” drawled his father from the doorway, “You need a more practical demonstration. Come with me, you two.”

Moody and Harry shared a look before hurrying after Severus as he led them back up through the castle to the third floor. Turning down a little used corridor, Severus aimed for a well-worn door guarded by a severe looking gentleman.

“Lord Lookinglass; are there any prefects currently using the facilities?” he asked.

“No, Professor. I have kept it clear as you’ve asked,” the portrait responded.

“Excellent. Pine Fresh,” Snape intoned and the door unlocked with muffled click. Severus pushed it open and ushered in the other two. Harry took the opportunity to gaze around the fabled Prefect Bathroom. It was more than had been rumoured. The bath was nearly half an Olympic sized pool with a fountain of spigots rising from the centre, looking like a dream machine from some steampunk fiction story. A wave of Severus’ wand and the pool began to quickly fill itself with scented bubbles. Moody took one sniff and growled to himself as he stalked around the room, checking that there was no one else there.

Benches lined one wall with loo stalls – large, lined with marble with individual sinks inside each stall – along another. A third wall held matching shower stalls with attached changing areas and the fourth was a floor to ceiling stained glass window showing a scene of the black lake, including a realistic mermaid basking on a rock. She eyed the men, flipping her tail idly. While none could see into the bath from outside, the colours of the glass shone like jewels as the sunlight flowed through them, bouncing colour off of every surface. Harry had the impression of being inside a magical kaleidoscope.

Snape tossed a pair of swimming briefs to his son, effectively breaking him out of his reverie, indicating with a wave that he should change. Harry hurried to a loo stall and quickly stripped, hauling on the trunks in short order. Setting Silicia to watch his clothes, he shivered as the cold air hit his skin, and he hurried over to the edge of the pool and slid into the warm water gratefully. This one was much deeper than his father’s roman tub – exceeding six feet at one end.

“Alright, Harry, cast the charm and dive under the water – going as deep as you can – and see how long you can stay under,” his father instructed.

Harry pulled his wand, saying “Ebullocapitis”. An inverted fish bowl appeared around his head; impervious to water and noxious fumes, but letting in oxygen. He slowly let himself sink to the bottom of the pool, trying not to let the sensation of the water pressing in around him break his concentration. When he felt comfortable, he gave a thumbs up to his instructors and began to attempt swimming while under the water.

****

Severus watched as his son frog kicked under water, unfortunately not going anywhere fast. He passed a hand wearily over his face, glancing at his companion. “We have a problem.”

Moody looked at him, eyebrow raised. “And what makes you think that, Snape? The fact that you neglected to inform me that your boy can’t swim and we have less than a week before the next task to teach him?” He reached a weathered hand up to scratch his cheek as he contemplated the scene below him.

Severus sighed and looked back down into the water, watching Harry as he pathetically tried to swim. “Well, on a brighter note, he’s lasting longer than fifteen min...” he began just as Harry panicked and the bowl around his head imploded and he shot to the surface, gurgling in frustration.

“What were you saying?” Moody asked under his breath.

“Never mind,” Snape grumbled. “Try it again, Harry; you went for twenty that time. And when you are swimming, time your arm movements with your legs: together, up, out and down. Practice out here first... yes, that’s correct. Straighter... and cup your hands; scoop the water away from you – gives you more momentum. Very good. Now try again...” He watched as his son dived down for a second time. “Merlin, he is doomed. We may have to resort to Gillyweed – I just don’t like the freshwater trials with it; too unpredictable.” He began pacing and Moody kept an eye on Harry, grimacing whenever the teen’s movements became uncoordinated enough to stall his progress through the depths of the pool.

“What he needs is a two pronged solution: something that will ensure his air for at least an hour, and impart a swimming ability,” Mad-eye muttered as Severus passed him. The potions professor stopped and turned slowly to look at the battle-scarred Auror, then turned his gaze towards the window, raising his eyebrow in question.

“Do you really think it would work,” Moody asked in wonder, catching on quickly.

“I believe so, yes. And the fourth years have been working on the beginning stages of it for the last three weeks, so I wouldn’t be giving him the potion – he’s been making it all along. And I have the final ingredient already in my stores.”

“What final ingredient?” came the wet voice from behind them. “Because, there has to be a better solution than this!”

“Mermaid hair – or rather, Merman,” Severus suggested.

****

“Harry, are you certain about this?” Hermione asked as she accompanied him down to the water’s edge. “I’ve read all about Polyjuice – it isn’t recommended with human to animal transformations. You could be stuck for weeks in this form instead of for just an hour!” she fretted.

“That’s the beauty of it, Hermione, Merpeople are mostly human. They are an ancient experiment gone wrong and chose to remain underwater, forming their own society and language as the condition was passed along in their genes. Dad explained it to me the other night. Because of that, the transformation should last just as long as it does with a human, or a little longer. Long enough for me to complete the task; and, as an added bonus, I’ll be able to automatically swim like a Merman.” He grinned widely at that prospect before looking around the gathering crowd. “Hey, have you seen your boyfriend anywhere?” he asked worriedly.

“No. I haven’t seen him since last night. We were studying runes - really, we were,” she verified when he turned to her with a knowing smirk on his face.  “When Luna came by and said that Dumbledore was looking for him.” She began searching the gathering crowd as well for the tell-tale mane of white-blonde hair. Ever since the Yule ball, the two of them were quite the power couple in the school. Hermione had blossomed under Draco’s attention and was the envy of many of her peers. Harry wished them well, but with Voldemort gaining strength he just didn’t want to put anyone in the target range from being romantically associated with him. Pansy seemed to understand and seemed satisfied with being a friend.

“Huh...” Harry said, fingering the prepared vial of Polyjuice in his pocket. “Wonder what that was all about.” They kept silent the rest of the walk to the lakeside where they met up with the twins, still taking bets.

“What’s the spread now?” Harry asked, curious in a morbid sort of way.

“For you, my friend, twenty to one,” George stated. “They all figure you’re going to snuff it.”

“That’s awful!” said an indignant Hermione.

“Care to wager, Granger?” Fred asked, quill poised over his ledger book.

“Absolutely not – that’s atrocious! Good luck, Harry!” She gave Harry a hug before huffing past them and went to stand with Ron and the others of their study group.

Dumbledore and the rest of the school Heads marched along the beach, pulling Harry into the group and depositing him in line with the other three Champions. It was a cool, brisk morning that the warming charms cast on the beach area were not dispelling. Harry stripped down to his swimming trunks and undershirt, checking the placement of his wand holster on his forearm. The cold Scottish air was causing gooseflesh to pop up all over his arms and his teeth began chattering as he waited for the task to start. He juggled the vial of potion in his hands, warming it up – his father saying that it tended to go down better when warm. He had his doubts about that claim, but was willing to believe anything at that point as long as it worked. The Merman hair had imparted a shimmery aqua sheen to the potion, along with a slightly fishy odour.

Cedric stood near him, stoically looking out over the water, calm and collected. Fleur looked nervous and for once did not give him an evil eye when their gazes met. Instead she shyly smiled at him before resuming her own little bit of pacing.

Krum looked bored; arms crossed and a sleepy look on his face, as if he knew he could be in a better place than this, with better use of his time. Harry wondered why the arrogant toe-rag had even entered the competition in the first place, although he guessed the prize money might have a little something to do with it. That, and eternal glory – as Dumbledore had succinctly put it.

Mad-eye paced along the line of Champions, his wooden leg sinking into the sand making him look unbalanced as his mechanical eye looked for anything out of the ordinary.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and used a sonorous charm to gather everyone’s attention.

“The four champions are here this morning to complete the second task of the tournament. Overnight, something that they cherish was taken to the depths of the black lake. The competitors will have one hour to retrieve that item and return it, intact, to the surface. Champions, are you ready? Begin now!” he cried.

Fleur immediately cast the Bubblehead charm around her head and rushed out into the water, giving a little scream as the cold water hit her. But she didn’t let it stop her and she continued to wade out until she could dive down below the surface.

Cedric followed suit, nearly as quickly while Krum used his wand to transfigure his head into a replica of a shark, roaring to the crowd along the beach before beginning his descent.

Harry waded out to where he had to tread water, lifting the vial and popping the cork – hesitating only a moment before drinking down the fishy-tasting brew. He had a hard time keeping it down but managed long enough to feel the transformation take shape.

It started at his torso and worked downwards as his legs snapped together and seemed to fuse to each other, his feet spreading and toes lengthening to form a wedge shape that was soon covered in glittering sea-foam green scales. His legs no longer bent, so much as undulated. The small webs between his fingers increased in length and a curious itching feeling attacked either side of his neck. When he moved a hand up there to scratch, he felt the flutters of gills.

An overwhelming need to get under the water came over him and he gave into the desire, diving like a pro under the small wavelets, letting his strong tail manoeuvre him further and further along. His momentum through the water pushed the water over and under his gills and his lungs took in the filtered oxygen naturally. A tingling along his head prompted him to reach his hands up to feel his scalp. He still had some long hair up there, and in the murky water it was hard to tell its colour, but the rest of it had fused along his spine into a fin that continued down along the back of his tail, disappearing somewhere around where his knees used to be. After a bit of experimentation, he discovered that it helped him steer through the lake waters.

He swam deeper and deeper, the weak light from the surface struggling to make it into the depths far below. He floated through acres of seaweed that hid many different creatures, their eyes gleaming in the dark. They were strange and wonderful, denizens he had never seen before in his books and he wished he had more time to stay and study them. But he had a job to do and the time was ticking away. He checked his waterproofed watch – Hermione had cast the charm as a parting gift. He was startled to realise he had been there for nearly twenty minutes already, and he had no clue as to where he needed to go! He felt though that he had been heading in the right direction and he pumped his tail some more, trying to gain some height over the forest of weed. He was startled several times by Grindylows making grabs for his tail from their hiding places amongst the vegetation, or a peek at something dark and sinister looking that passed overhead, dismissing him as below its notice. Periodically, he passed ruins, ancient and covered in greenish moss that swayed in the current.

He saw Fleur at a distance grappling with the giant squid. He would have gone to her aid, except that he was stopped by an armed Merman who popped up from below, trident in hand, and refused to let him pass.

He reluctantly continued on his downward journey, spying a Merperson ahead of him and turning to follow it discretely. As he suspected, it led him directly to the Mer-village at the bottom of the lake. A check of his watch showed he had used up nearly forty minutes in getting here.

A strong fluke of his tail propelled him over the top of the settlement and he gazed down into the water-dwelling specie’s domain. As he gazed down at them, the residents looked up at him; mothers gathering their babies to them in a protective gesture, older children swimming with him, keeping pace and calling to each other in laughing tones. The village was quite peaceful looking; colourful shells and sands decorating the exteriors of the dwellings, and careful plots of varieties of seaweed and other vegetation grew behind each home, lovingly tended by young women who paused in their chores to watch float overhead. Harry smiled down at them, but didn’t stop in his search for the task area.

Harry soon espied a central area where several armed guards stood – or floated – watch over their prizes: Human prizes.

One for each Champion, as promised; and each a precious possession. Harry spotted Draco’s fair hair immediately – it stood out like a beacon in the inky darkness of the black water. Cedric’s prize was Cho Chang; Fleur’s seemed to be a young relative – her sister or cousin, perhaps. Krum’s was - oddly - Hannah. Harry bet there would be words about that choice when this was over. If all four were still here, that meant that he was the first to arrive. He checked his watch again – only ten minutes until the hour was up, where was everyone?

He decided to get Draco free first, and he made quick work of the tether of seaweed rope that held his brother down. As he untied the last knot, a form swam over him and down to where Cho drifted in the current. Cedric looked over at Harry and seeing that the younger boy was fine, severed the seaweed and yanked on her arm, pointing to his watch as he passed by the two Snapes. Harry nodded that he understood, but decided he still had a little time left. He was rewarded a moment later when Krum swum by, nearly bowling the Gryffindor over as his teeth snagged Hannah around the middle and dragged her towards the surface with nary a glance behind him. With his enhanced sense of smell due to his transformed state, Harry could detect the drift of blood on the water where Hannah had been grazed by her ardent admirer.

That just left the little French girl. Harry looked around but saw no sign of Fleur. The rhyme played over and over in his head and he just could not take the chance that if the girl did not make it to the surface in the next eight minutes, she would drown. A tournament wasn’t worth that heartache.

Making his decision, he dragged Draco over to where she drifted, used his wand to sever the rope and began using his strong tail to propel them to the surface.

It was difficult swimming upwards with two teens dragging on his arms. They were both still in an enchanted sleep, bubbles periodically escaping from their mouths and noses. It was slowing him down and he knew that it would be a miracle if he made it anywhere near to the hour time limit. He was pretty sure he was past that point already. In fact, Draco was starting to show signs of life and they still had twenty metres to go.

Harry was not sure how long the Polyjuice would last, with fish genes potentially adding some small bit of time to the usual hour. He had only brought along one vial and was regretting that decision. At fifteen metres, the little girl began to squirm and a swarm of Grindylows rose from the forest of seaweed below them, reaching with their tiny clawed hands for the tender flesh of the humans.

Seeing that Draco was awake, Harry passed his brother the little girl, quickly and wandlessly encased their heads in Bubblehead charms, pushing them as hard as he could towards the surface. Snatching his wand out of its holder, he tried sending Stupefy at the creatures with little success. To add to his problems, he could feel the beginnings of the Polyjuice wearing off.

Clapping a hand to his neck, the fibrillating gills stilled and melded back into his skin. He had full lungs, but that wasn’t going to last long. Sending stinging hexes and and immobulus’ seemed to work better, and Harry used the relief to pump his retreating tail as hard as he could to rapidly ascend to the surface of the water.

His head broke through and he gasped for air just as his legs pulled apart and he could kick them independently. He started a slow crawl towards the shoreline, arms and body aching with the pull of the tide against him. His brother pulled far ahead of him, supporting the little girl along his body. Fleur rushed down to the waterline to meet them, Bill joining her to lift the child out of the water and wrap her in thick towels. He offered a hand to Draco who let the red-haired Weasley pull him upright. Fleur bestowed a kiss on her distant cousin’s cheek in gratitude for helping her sister.

Draco turned and waited for Harry to make it to the shore, their father joining him with a set of warm robes and towels hanging on his arm. Hermione came over, draping more terrycloth around her boyfriend, rubbing up and down to restore his circulation. Snape suddenly dropped his burden and rushed out into the water, splashing through the freezing waves to where he reached for his son’s flailing hands and drew the pale boy to his side, striking him on the back to force him to cough up the water he had swallowed when he became too tired to continue.

Harry knelt in the shallows, bent over and expelling the lake water from his lungs, his father rubbing calming hands along his back. Draco and Hermione hovered nearby, having picked up the robes and towels. Severus spoke lowly to his son and Harry nodded his head, letting his dad help him upright. When he stood up, the crowd let out a sigh of a relief and spontaneous applause greeted him as he stumbled up the beach to where Madam Pomfrey was holding court near the judges’ stand, spell-warmed robes and towels wrapped around him.

The matron clucked her tongue, spelling him dry and checking him over for any residual traces of potion or scratches from his travels. Fleur hovered in the background then swooped in to thank Harry effusively for rescuing her sister, kissing him on both reddening cheeks before Bill drew her away, thanking Harry himself.

“Looks like her tune has changed,” Draco remarked in a whisper.

“Apparently,” his brother agreed. They focused their attention on the other side of the room where a loud slap could be heard. Hannah, still dripping, had apparently had enough of Krum and was letting him know it. Why she had agreed to be his hostage was anyone’s guess – especially after the disaster at Yule – but his choice as to how to rescue her was the issue now as she loudly berated him for the tooth slices all over her body and clothes, some of which still needed healing. Pomfrey was doing her best while Hannah turned into a human whirlwind sending Viktor scrambling to get as far away her as was possible. 

“I see Mr Krum is still exuding his usual charm,” Severus commented dryly as he brought over several potions bottles to dose Harry with. His son eyed the collection with resignation. “I don’t need you coming down with pneumonia, or some dire disease, from ingesting the lake water, Harry. Open up,” he commanded. Harry complied and received doses ranging from Pepper-up to Lung-dry and some vile tasting potion that was supposed to kill intestinal parasites.

Steam still pouring from his ears, he joined the other Champions as they waited near the judges for the final awarding of points.

“For a full fifty points, showing a masterful use of the Bubblehead Charm, Cedric Diggory!” Dumbledore announced and the Hogwarts faction screamed their approval, banging on noisemakers and clapping their hands.

“For thirty points, with an incomplete transformation charm and causing harm to his hostage: Viktor Krum!” Hannah glared at Viktor while Dumbledore spoke.

“For fifteen points for use of the Bubblehead Charm, but unable to rescue her Hostage: Fleur Delacour.” Polite applause greeted her as she stepped forward to accept his handshake.

“And arriving after the hour, but with his hostage, we award Harry Potter-Snape thirty points. However,” the Headmaster’s voice rose to recapture everyone’s attention, “In discussions with the chief of the Merpeople, it was discovered that Mr Potter-Snape arrived first and waited to make sure all the hostages were rescued; in fact rescuing an additional hostage along with his own. For that, and for excellent use of the Polyjuice potion, we are awarding him an additional fifteen points placing him in second place.”

“Yes!” Draco yelled, pounding his brother on his back in his enthusiasm. Harry dazedly let Dumbledore shake his hand and watched as the judges walked back towards the castle. He accepted congratulations from Cedric and Fleur and turned quickly when a discrete cough sounded behind him announcing Pansy’s arrival.

“Well done, Harry,” she told him.

“Thanks, Pansy – oh! I promised you something, didn’t I,” he remembered. He walked down to the edge of the water and plucked a leaf from some stray seaweed. Touching it with his wand, it transformed into a small golden version, complete with an etching of a Merman on one side and the date. He presented it to her. “For your bracelet,” he reminded her.

“Thank you, Harry.” She accepted the token and immediately attached it to the links gleaming on her wrist, twisting it so she could hear the music the baubles made. “Just one more for a complete set,” she commented.

“Yes, well they are all one of a kind...”

“As are you...” She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before hurrying off, leaving behind a stunned Gryffindor.

“Come along, Mr Unique,” said his father in an amused voice. “Let’s get you back to quarters and into some dry clothes. Then you may go celebrate with your friends.” Harry let him lead the way, the rest of his impromptu family following behind rehashing the morning’s events.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harry hurried up the steps to the owlery intent upon spending some quality time with Hedwig. A brisk March wind blew through the open stonework to his right as he ascended the circular staircase along the outer ramparts of the tower.

Clouds scudded through the sky, a hint of rain in their scent, and as Harry gazed out over the Forbidden forest, there were touches of green shoots on the trees where the sun was able to penetrate and warm up the wood. He spotted the giant squid basking in the shallows of the Black Lake, arms waving to and fro, apparently enjoying the warm-up in the weather.

Even early spring flowers were starting to peek through the rich Scottish loam – yellow and white jonquils interspersed with multicoloured crocuses and primroses added a touch of warmth and colour to the bleak grey and white of winter.

Harry zipped his jacket higher, burying his bare hands in his pockets. The wind periodically whistling along the steps was a tad chilly this day. He continued climbing the long staircase until it spilled him out onto the landing in front of the open entrance to the owlery itself.

He squinted, peering into the darker room, searching out his all-white companion. He whistled for her when he spotted her about halfway up the opposite wall in a larger niche. At the sound of her master’s voice, she swivelled her head around and blinked tiredly at her friend. Eventually she woke up enough to realise who had come to see her and she fluttered down to the stone plinth where Harry met her and gave her a well-deserved owl treat. He stroked her feathers along her back and did his weekly inspection of her wings and flight feathers, making sure everything was in order. When he had first received her from Hagrid, there had been a Ministry pamphlet on how to care for your post-owl which Hagrid had scoffed at, instead giving Harry a list of things to watch out for and pointers on what Harry should do with his familiar every week. When Harry had gained Silicia, he had returned to his friend for advice on how to care for her – trusting in Hagrid’s abundant knowledge of magical and non-magical creatures. The man hadn’t steered him wrong yet and both animals were thriving under Harry’s care.

Satisfied that she was in good health, he took her up on his arm and walked over to one of the landing casements, hoisting himself up into its embrasure and letting Hedwig rest on his upraised knee.

“Well, girl, the year is two-thirds done and I’ve managed to survive so far. Just one more task to complete... can’t imagine what it will be. If it is any more dangerous than the last two, I’m afraid Dad will end up having kittens,” he confided to his familiar.

Hedwig closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of her master’s hand on her back, soothing her to sleep – but she kept one ear trained on him to let him know she was still listening.

“The rest of the Champions seem to be handling the wait pretty well; Cedric has been taking the time to show me some pretty cool spells. He showed me one, yesterday, that let’s you point in the right direction. See, watch...” He placed his wand in the flat of his left hand and passing his right over it, said “Point me Hedwig!” The wand spun in his hand until the tip pointed straight at his owl. She hooted at him, fairly impressed. He grinned. “Neat, isn’t it?” He stuck his wand back in its holster and gazed out over the drizzly grounds before sighing deeply.

“I got a letter from Padfoot and Moonie on Monday,” he confided, still keeping his eyes on the Scottish hills. “They are doing something for the Headmaster – but they wouldn’t say what, just that they were proud of my performance so far and good luck on the last task. That was nice of them, wasn’t it?” He turned to look at his companion and she gave him a slight nod. His mouth turned up and he continued his monologue. “I wonder what they could be doing, must be important. I’m glad Sirius is getting along with Dad – you know they were rivals in school? But he’s calmed down – at least he doesn’t insult Dad as much as he used to, that has to count for something. I think he knows it upsets me. I mean, Dad’s been brilliant! Especially this year; with training me in the advanced magics and all. If it wasn’t for him and Professor Moody... Well, I’d probably be dead at the bottom of the lake. Speaking of which, I better get going – training session this afternoon. I just wanted to see you and make sure you were alright.” He stroked her back again then watched as she launched herself back into the air and flew to her cubby, hooting softly at him before she closed her eyes and fell back asleep.

Harry reluctantly left the stonework and trudged down the steps to return to the main school buildings, huddling in his hoodie against the cold rain now coming down.

****

Staying to the shadows as his father and Professor Moody were attempting to teach him, Harry slipped past many unaware students on his way down to the dungeons. His father insisted he needed to learn this skill in case he should ever find himself in enemy territory and need to extricate himself without anyone knowing he was there. As his father rightly pointed out, he may not always have his cloak with him.

Moody had taught him several chameleon spells that caused him to blend in with his surroundings – as long as he didn’t move when someone was looking in his direction. Harry was still having trouble with these. While he could understand the reason for stealth, his brain had a problem with the “hiding in plain sight” aspect.  It was just something he had to overcome. But he was allowed to practice after classes and before curfew – and Merlin forbid if his father or Moody ever caught him using it for “Gryffindor brazenness”, as his father put it. So he would use it to do what he was doing now – trying to make it unseen from one part of the castle to the other, when there were lots of people around.

He’d had lots of help in the beginning – his brother and friends had made a game of it at first. Harry would have to make it past them without them seeing him; if they did spot him, they were allowed to tag him – much like a Wizard version of paint-balls. Early on, in January, he had been covered in colourful dots where his friends had tagged him with the spell the twins had devised. Each student had chosen their own colour and this way Harry and his trainers could tell if he was improving, or not. Nowadays, he could get through nearly untouched.

He’d stopped next to a suit of armour, waiting for the entrance hall to clear out so he could make his way over to the dungeon entrance. Unfortunately, Mrs Norris was sniffing along the baseboards and she was coming closer and closer to his position. Silicia squirmed against his arm; she hated the Kneazle with a passion. He whispered to her in Parseltongue to settle down, but she couldn’t resist tasting the air with her tongue and hissing back her displeasure.

Mrs Norris, her ears honed from years of hunting down wayward students, heard the near silent whisperings and swivelled her head unerringly towards their hiding place. She began to pace over, swinging her head to and fro, trying to catch the scent.

Harry kept as still as possible and in his panic, tried to wandlessly, and silently, incant the version of the concealment spell that masked scent, praying it would work. Especially praying hard when Mr Filch appeared from around the corner – Harry swore they were linked telepathically – and keyed in on his familiar immediately.

“Have you found something, my pretty?” the old man asked, creeping up on his cat and looking around.

Pretty? He honestly thought that mangy, flea ridden, walking burglar alarm was pretty? Harry closed his eyes, wishing the old man’s eyes to slide right over him. Granted it was school hours, he wasn’t doing anything wrong; he had every right to be in the entrance hall at this time of day. But it was the principal of the thing – he really wanted to pass this self-imposed test. Because that is what it felt like – it felt like he was in the midst of a practical final exam. If he could fool Mrs Norris and Mr Filch, he could fool anyone.

Of course he also felt like a toddler, closing his eyes as if that would conceal him from the caretaker. ‘If I can’t see you, you can’t see me!’ He had learned at a very early age that didn’t work; Dudley still always found him, no matter how hard he tried to hide from his cousin.

But against all the odds, it worked.

Harry mentally sighed in relief, allowing himself to crack open his eyes as he heard Filch gather up his cat and walk away, muttering to his furry companion. Harry waited a few more minutes before gathering his courage to move again, sliding from one shadow grouping to the next as he moved across the entrance hall.

He nearly skipped down the steps in happiness and was brought up short at the bottom when he emerged from the stairwell only to be collared by his Defence instructor.

****

Alastor had been down in the dungeons, talking with Severus and setting up the week’s training schedule for Harry. For the most part, he was proud and impressed with the young Gryffindor. He had been obviously scared when his name had been called on Hallowe’en weekend, Mad-eye had detected the physiological signs that had accompanied that announcement and had been satisfied that the boy had absolutely nothing to do with it. And the boy had surprised everyone with his quick ability to learn new spells and fighting techniques; techniques that a lot of his Auror trainees had a hard time mastering. Harry relished in learning these things; it was obvious that defence was his strong-suit.

But, sometimes he got a bit cocky. Like now, when he came skipping down the spiral staircase, so sure he was in the clear. Alastor waited at the bottom, a smirk on his face, stating his assessment as he halted Potter-Snape in mid-step.

“Almost, Snape – but not quite. I could hear your footsteps down the stairs. You descend stairs very distinctively; you need to work on that.” He released his student with a cuff to the back of the head then walked down the corridor – obviously expecting Harry to follow.

Harry shook his head ruefully, jogging to keep up as they headed for the training room. He’d just learned a valuable lesson: The sneaking isn’t done until you reach the final objective. You never know who might be waiting around that final corner.

****

A few weeks later found all four champions following Hagrid, along with their respective Headmasters, to the edge of the Quidditch field. The stands that normally stood to the west of the field had been opened up to form a U shape, and the field now expanded out into the field area behind the pitch. Low growing box hedges were laid out in a seemingly never-ending maze that stretched as far as they could see.

Hagrid chuckled at the alarmed look on Harry and Cedric’s faces. “Don’ worry none, yer pitch will be back as good as new next term. These ‘ere are magical hedges; fast growin’, like.”

Krum stood with his arms crossed and huffed in the cool air. “Ve haf to walk a maze for the final challenge?”

“Not just any maze, Mr Krum,” Dumbledore spoke up. “This one will have all sorts of challenges hidden within it, and the path could change at any time.” His eyes twinkled as they landed momentarily on Harry. A shiver went down Harry’s back as he felt that gaze favour him. A pressure began building in his head and he pushed back, sending his internal guardians to hover over the invader, pushing him back and out. He caught a look of surprise from the Headmaster before the man quickly schooled it, hiding his reaction while popping a sweet into his mouth.

Deciding that he’d had enough, he had seen what they needed to see for the time being, Harry began walking back to the castle, intent on ferreting out his brother and father. He could feel a major headache beginning just behind his scar, and he began to rub at it as he headed into Slytherin territory.

“Dad!” he called out as he entered the Snape quarters. “Draco!” he also called out for his brother. Silicia was hissing away in irritation on his arm, picking up on her master’s agitation.

Severus came out of the lab door, wiping his hands on a shop rag, concern etched in his face. Draco came pounding down the hallway to slide to a halt in front of his brother.

“What’s up?” the blond asked.

“Dumbledore!” was Harry’s spitting reply. He dropped into a kitchen chair in a huff. “He tried to legilimise me.”

Both boys looked stunned as Snape cursed out loud. He tossed the rag back into the lab before coming over to kneel in front of his son.

“What happened?”

“Remember they requested we meet out at the pitch this afternoon? Well, Hagrid has been turning it into some sort of giant maze that we will have to manoeuvre like rats as the final challenge. Krum scoffed at this and the Headmaster explained that there would be challenges within the maze that we will have to complete and he implied that the maze could somehow change its shape.” He took a deep breath as he stared his father in the eyes. “Then he got on of those looks in his eyes and the next thing I knew I could feel him trying to enter my mind. I managed to toss him out, which seemed to surprise him, but now I have a blasted headache!” He threw his glasses onto the table in frustration before pressing the heels of his hands against his temples. Silicia had slithered to the table and was coiled up behind him, crooning to her favourite human.

“Draco...” Severus began, but his second child had already headed to the household potion’s cabinet and was walking back with an extra-strength headache potion; one Severus had begun developing for Harry’s attacks. Gracing Draco with a thankful smile, Severus got Harry to down a large portion and in moments his child was letting out a relieved sigh.

“Better?” Severus asked while checking Harry over before standing up and heading into the kitchen to fix the boys a snack.

“Thanks, Dad. Yes, I’m better. What do you think he was after? All I remember is feeling really pissed that he was even attempting something like that.”

Severus returned with a tea tray and shooed his family over to the more comfortable sitting area. “I have no idea, but it is worrisome. I will check your defences later tonight. I can’t emphasise enough how important your training is at this point, Harry. We still have no idea who placed your name in the tournament to begin with, and your challenges have both been deadly – I expect no less from this contest.” He handed out the cups of tea he’d poured, settling back with his own.

“What kind of things will you be facing in the maze?” Draco asked, curious in spite of himself.

“No idea,” Harry stated, shaking his head. “I just know the maze is huge. They opened up the west end of the stands and extended the pitch into the field beyond. The hedge goes out the entire way. I’m glad Cedric taught me that “Point-me” spell – it’s going to come in handy.”

“Well, whatever they throw at you, I feel confident you will tackle them competently,” Severus commented.

“Competently?” Harry snorted. “At this rate, I’ll settle for ‘coming out of it with my skin intact’.” He nibbled on a biscuit for a moment, staring into the fire. “Every time I go out there I feel more and more out of my league. After today, the way he was looking at me and testing my shields, I think the Headmaster may know more than he’s letting on,” he mused.

Draco’s eyebrows hit high mast. “You think he’s been behind this all along? No, he couldn’t be – I bet he was just checking to make sure you were mentally ready to face this last challenge, right, Dad?” Draco looked over at his father for confirmation.

Severus steepled his hands as he looked at his sons. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But it wouldn’t hurt to avoid his gaze for the time-being, Harry. He is a master Legilimens, boys. While both of you have been working on your shields – and they are quite strong – you aren’t quite up to his level, yet. Keep your gaze down and your shields up at all times. I’m sure your defence instructor has drilled his catch phrase into your heads by now, so use it,” he demanded.

With that warning, the rest of the evening was much more pleasant. Draco took advantage of the warmer weather to take Hermione out for a stroll during twilight after dinner, and Harry watched – a bit enviously – as his brother snaked an arm around her waist as he led her out the Great Doors. They weren’t the only couple taking advantage of the mild temperatures; he saw many of his year-mates and older students pairing off for the evening. He thought about seeking out Pansy, but decided he wasn’t in the mood and instead headed back to the Dungeons for the weekend.

****

Severus watched as his sons headed up to dinner, waiting until the door had closed behind them before throwing up his wards and began storming around his quarters. He really wanted to hurt something. How dare he attempt to legilimise Harry – what was the old man thinking? What was he hoping to gain by doing that? Especially when it had resulted in nothing but a headache for the boy, and creating even more distrust?

Severus wanted to hear things break... he needed to hear things crunch. Tearing down his wards, he exited his rooms and walked down the corridor to the training room where he copied his son’s coping mechanism of creating dummies and blasting them to pieces. It was quite therapeutic and gave him a chance to think while blowing things up. He always thought better when in the midst of chaos, anyways.

****

“All is in readiness, my lord,” said Wormtail, fawning over the monstrous form of his master propped up in the chair. “Your servant is in place and claims to be able to make sure Potter wins the cup.”

“Excellent...” the figure hissed, reaching out a small clawed hand to stroke the head of a massive snake lounging draped over the armrest. “All the required pieces for the ceremony have been obtained; it just needs the brat’s blood to activate it.”

“My lord, why wait? It only specifies an enemy – we could have you back tonight...”

Red eyes flashed in the servant’s direction. “No, Wormtail – it must be my greatest enemy, the one who caused all that chaos fourteen years ago. It must be him, no one else. Do you understand? My greatest power lies in using his blood and his blood only. I have waited this long, I can be patient a little longer – so should you!”

Pettigrew scampered back from his lord, stammering an apology.

“Wormtail, I grow tired of your pettiness. Are you not content serving me?”

“No, my Lor...” he caught himself. “I mean, yes, my Lord – I am honoured to be serving you, that is all I’ve ever wanted to do!” he rushed to assure the creature.

“Liar!” the monster squeaked. “But no matter. No one else would deal with you now. Even your former friends want to kill you,” he reflected. He listened intently as the large snake hissed into his malformed ear. “Nagini needs to be milked, see to it!”

“Yes, my Lord!” Pettigrew couldn’t help but shiver as his lord and master laughed maniacally at his discomfort.

****

Harry woke with a start, his head aching once again. He was getting tired of the frequency of these headaches. He tried desperately to remember his dream, but as he woke further the details flew away like dandelion fluff on the wind. He was sure it was important, though. He drew his legs up and pressed his forehead into his knees, hoping the pressure would banish the increasing pain. This was worse that when Dumbledore had legilimised him earlier. His father had reassured him that his defences were intact; that the Headmaster had not gained entrance past the edge of his inner jungle. He groaned before remembering to be quiet, which caused him to moan even loader when his brother tossed off his comforter and padded over to check on Harry.

“Bad one?” Draco asked. Harry could only grimace and nod, hugging his knees harder. Draco rummaged in Harry’s nightstand, but came up with empty vials. “Aren’t you supposed to be giving these to Dad to replenish?” he complained, but at Harry’s annoyed glance he shut up. “Never mind, I’ll be right back.” He glanced over at his brother again. “Not that I think you’re going to be able to go anywhere...” He slipped out the bedroom door, while Harry snarled “Prat!”, and knocked on their father’s bedroom door.

It took a few moments, but Severus was soon following Draco back into the shared bedroom carrying a new bottle of the headache draught.

By this time, Harry was white with pain and hunched over, eyes squeezed shut to block out the weak candlelight. Severus managed to force the bottle between Harry’s lips and the boy gratefully gulped down the potion, relief soon becoming apparent. When he was ready, Severus questioned him.

“I had some sort of dream – and no, I don’t remember it. But it woke me up and then the pain started, centred on my scar,” Harry explained. “Thanks for getting Dad, Draco,” he tossed at his brother who was sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed, his father mirroring his stance on the opposite corner.

“No problem.” He yawned, causing Harry to laugh and Severus to smirk. “Git!” he shot back at Harry. “I’m going back to bed; see you both in the morning.” He followed word with deed and dived back under the warm duvet, quickly falling into quiet snoring.

Severus smiled fondly at Draco’s form then turned his attention back to Harry.

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

“I...” Harry stopped, aware that now that the pain was gone, he was starting to remember bits and pieces. “There was something about a potion... Voldemort needs my blood for some ceremonial potion... The snake was there, and Peter, and Voldemort... it was that same horrible body he had when I had my dream last summer. Peter asked him... asked him if they could use any enemy and He insisted it had to be me. They are waiting for the last task... What can they do? I don’t understand? How can my blood bring him back?”

“I don’t kn... what did you say?” Severus snapped, causing Harry to rear back a bit. “What does he want your blood for?”

“He said it was needed in a ceremony to bring him back,” Harry clarified. The dream was becoming clearer and clearer, and it looked as if it had been very important indeed. “He needed the blood of his greatest enemy. For some reason he thinks that it’s me instead of Dumbledore.”

“I have no idea what ceremony he must be using – but I don’t like the implications. Unfortunately, we can’t withdraw you, you must compete in the last task – or the magic will kill you.”

“It sounds like if I compete then he will find some way to obtain my blood, and then I’ll be dead from him!”

“No, I don’t think so. If he just needed your dead body, he could have accomplished that in any number of ways; no, he needs only your blood. The Dark Lord is nothing, if not observant of the old ways. Everything must be done according to the pure-blood code of honour. He would want to battle you on a face-to-face basis: to prove that he was the best, if nothing else. We will just have to make sure that you are prepared as much as possible for anything happening.”

He reached out a hand, laying it atop his sons as it rested in his lap. “You will be prepared, Harry,” he promised. Harry just nodded, sure in his father’s love and protective nature.

Severus patted the hand then let his gaze wander over to the nightstand,raising an eyebrow at the collection of empty vials littering the tabletop.

“I meant to bring them to you...”

“Just for that, guess what you will be revising tomorrow morning,” his father warned.

Harry sighed as he crawled back under his own covers. “Extra strength Headache draught.”

“Five points to Gryffindor. You will wash these before-hand, as well. So, back to sleep with you – you’ve got an early day of it, tomorrow. I expect you in the lab, your hands immersed in soapy water by eight, young man. Maybe next time you’ll remember to bring me your empties in a timely manner.” They both scowled toward the other bed when a chuckle was heard erupting from under the covers. “Watch it, Draco – or you may join him!” A snore was immediately heard and the Snapes rolled their eyes in tandem. “Just so. Goodnight, boys!”

Dual ‘Goodnight, Dad,’s echoed in the room as he slipped out the door to retire back to his own bedchamber for the remainder of the night. 

****

Cornelius Fudge looked up as he heard a knock at his office door. “Ah, Lucius, thank you for coming. Please be seated,” he began to rise from his leather chair, motioning that Lucius Malfoy should seat himself in one of the matching chairs sitting in front of his massive desk.

“How may I serve you, Minister?” Lucius drawled, the picture of patrician nobility deigning to acquiesce to a government request.

“Yes, well, Barty has taken ill and does not think he will be able to attend the final challenge at Hogwarts. You are on the board there, I was wondering if...”

“If I would take his place and officiate? I’d be delighted to, Minister.” Fudge mistook the smirk on Malfoy’s face as a smile, and nodded gratefully in return.

“Splendid. Then you can be there Saturday? Excellent. Here is a list of your duties for Saturday afternoon; I’m sure you’ll perform them to the best of your ability. I really appreciate this, Lucius. If you ever need a favour...?”

“I will certainly let you know, Minister. Thank you.” He glanced at the agenda for the day of the final task before putting it away. “I’ll take my leave; I have many things to get ready beforehand.” He patted the breast pocket where he’d secreted the paper and Fudge nodded in understanding.

 

Harry fingered the black t-shirt he was wearing that had the Hogwarts crest embroidered over the left breast. It was thin cotton, very soft and comfortable and perfect for the balmy early evening air. As they stood outside the entrance to the modified Quidditch arena he felt his father fiddle with his earlobe and gasped, realising he was removing the personal Portkey; the one he’d been told to never remove.

“Dumbledore insists,” his father whispered in explanation. “He doesn’t want you to have an unfair advantage.” Harry felt his father palm his jeans pocket. “However, I never believe in leaving things to chance. It’s in your watch-pocket. I’ll be showing the Headmaster Draco’s,” his father murmured quickly. Harry flicked his eyes over to his father to show he understood and the lead weight that had landed in his stomach when he’d woken up this morning, lightened just a little. Even the momentary thought of being without his Portkey, had nearly caused him to panic. What was Dumbledore playing at? He knew Harry was being made a target in this tournament; a way out of trouble was necessary!

His father squeezed his shoulder as they entered the arena, walking over to stand next to the black-flagged entrance to the maze. Draco moved down from the stands where he’d been talking to Hermione and Ron, to stand with his family, lending Harry more moral support, and the Gryffindor contingent screamed and applauded when they spotted Harry’s entrance. There was well earned polite applause from the other houses as well and Harry blushed at the approbation.  Dumbledore came over to them and Severus showed him the earring; but Dumbledore noted that both boys weren’t wearing them and gave Severus a disappointed look over his half moon glasses.

“The other one too, Severus,” he said, doggedly.

“Headmaster, I must protest. He can not be without protection,” he asserted once again. A long drawn-out argument had occurred in the Headmaster’s office that morning and Severus was still stinging from it as he’d actually lost the argument – or so Albus thought. Severus had to keep him thinking that way, just like he did with the Defence position every year. So, he continued to push the point.

“We’ve been over this, my boy; Harry must not be seen having anything more magical on him than the spells he knows and his wand. His only danger will be that which the other champions face as well.”

Harry squirmed a bit; did Silicia count as a magical item? He didn’t think so, but he decided to keep mum about the cobra hidden under his sleeve a secret. Besides, she was currently asleep. Not even his father knew she was there.

“Which has nearly gotten him killed twice this year!” Severus was continuing in stating his case. “I’ve protested this since the beginning, Albus. Now you are making me break my word to him.”

Albus sighed, running his hand through his long beard as if he was thinking about what his Potion’s master was saying. “There is nothing in there that he can’t overcome, Severus,” he finally answered. “Now, the other earring, if you please.” He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers momentarily.

Harry’d had his finger in the tiny pocket for a moment now and looking up at his father, sighed as the man finally nodded his head, acquiescing to the Headmaster’s request, and pulled out an earring - an exact match to the one that his father was showing Dumbledore. He placed it in his father’s hand, sending a glare in his headmaster’s direction.

“Splendid. Now, I shall take those into custody...” Dumbledore started, but stopped as Severus curled his hand around the small pieces of jewellery. “Severus...”

“I created these, Dumbledore. They stay with me – no one else, other than me or my sons, is allowed to touch them. That includes you, old man. Don’t push it. You have their removal, don’t try for more. Now, I believe the other champions are arriving, time to be the consummate host, don’t you think?” He stared down the Headmaster, daring him to make a scene – or more of one than he’d already done.

Dumbledore let his icy stare pin his Potion’s master one last moment before his gaze warmed up as he turned to welcome Cedric Diggory and his parents, showing them to his staging area around a yellow banner – his own t-shirt the same colour.

Harry gazed up the hedges that now towered above them, easily twelve feet in the air. He looked inside his entrance and saw only a green pathway that faded away in the distance. Not heartening at all. He turned his head back to the open arena area when he heard Draco curse under his breath.

“Did you know he was going to be here, officiating?” Draco hissed to their father. Severus followed his son’s pointing gaze and his sight was immediately drawn to the brilliant white blond hair of Lucius Malfoy. The aristocrat was making the rounds, shaking hands, speaking to the rest of the governors as they sat in their own box and generally eeling his way around the gathering. On his arm was his current mistress, a simpering wisp of a witch who looked like she was about to faint from being around so many famous people at once.

“No, I didn’t. Calm down, Dragon; don’t let him affect you – you are above any insults he may throw at you. He wants you to react, don’t give in to the temptation,” Severus wisely advised as Lucius began greeting the Champions, being introduced to their families who were standing with them. The Snapes watched as he slowly made his way over to their little area.

Lucius politely nodded in their direction, not offering his hand as he had to the other Champions. “Severus, children, may I introduce Miss Elladora Pilliwickle, an acquaintance of mine from work.” He at least had the grace to visibly flinch his eyebrows when she giggled.

“Oh my, I get to meet the famous Harry Potter!” she squealed, too excited to notice when Draco and Harry both corrected her with a heated “It’s Harry Potter-SNAPE!” “I didn’t realise you were so young! But so handsome! I bet you’ve broken all the girls’ hearts with those good looks. I can’t believe all the interesting people Lucy knows; why it is simply mind-blowing...” she babbled. Draco and Harry had a hard time keeping their faces immobilized at the cute little sobriquet and, in fact, Harry ended up covering a snigger with a cough. Lucius glared down at the teens before turning to his companion and shutting her up mid-stream.

“That’s enough Ella; why don’t you go warm up our seats in the box? I’ll be along shortly,” Lucius suggested.

“Oh, alright!” she said brightly, blowing him a kiss from her bright red lips before picking her way across the grass to the Judges box where she was assisted to her seat by a solicitous Percy Weasley.

“Shut it, Snape,” Lucius warned as Severus looked at him with an amused eye. “She has her uses.”

“I’m sure she does,” Severus drawled. “Now why are you officiating this task? Where is Crouch?”

“I’m afraid Barty came down with a terminal case of dementia this week. So sad. He shall be discovered soon enough. In the meantime, Fudge owes me several favours and this is just a little payback, shall we say.” He leaned on his cane, scanning the other competitors before letting his eyes rest on Harry, raising an eyebrow as he took in Harry’s smaller stature and obvious youth. “Good luck, Potter. I’m certain you will need all that you can get before this is over.” He sauntered off back towards the gaggle of Judges that were hovering around Dumbledore.

“Did he just admit to killing someone?” Harry quietly asked his father.

“Five points to Gryffindor for paying attention,” Moody interjected as he moved up to them. “We’d never be able to prove it, though. Are you ready, Snape?” he asked gruffly.

Harry swallowed hard, but nodded his head. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Moody let his wonky eye rove all over Harry, as if any unreadiness might be detected by the magical orb. It rested momentarily at where Harry’s finger was still worrying at the little pocket in his jeans, and where Silicia still curled up asleep around his bicep, but moved on quickly. Moody reached out and roughly grasped Harry’s forearm. “Good luck, boy. I’m part of the team that will be monitoring you from outside the hedges. If you run into trouble, just send up sparks with your wand and we’ll come get you. Don’t try to be a damned hero, Snape. Just use your brain and you’ll get through it fine.”

“Families, please take your seats; Champions to the centre, please!” Dumbledore’s sonorous charm cut through the air like a bullhorn. Harry let Draco give him a quick hug then turned to face his father who lifted a hand to let it rest alongside Harry’s cheek.

“I’m proud of you son, and I know your mum is too. Just do your best, alright?”

Harry could nod once. The lead in his stomach had become an overwhelming weight again and if he tried to talk, he was afraid he would sick-up. So he leaned in for an embrace from his father then reluctantly let him go so that he could walk to the middle of the open area.

With Dumbledore there stood several officials, obviously those directly involved in this task. Harry stood between Fleur and Diggory, glaring at the Durmstrang champion across the way. Krum had learned his lesson over the holidays and hadn’t attacked Harry any further during term, but they kept the rivalry to a bare simmer by simply managing to avoid each other as much as possible. At times like this, where they were forced to interact, both of their hot tempers flared. With the officials around though, they settled for pointed glares.

“Champions, your objective is to find the Tri-Wizard cup. It has been placed somewhere in the maze by one of the officials. When you have obtained it, it will transport you back here,” Dumbledore explained. “While you are in the maze, you not only have to navigate its interior, you also will come across obstacles that must be overcome in order to penetrate further in. Do you understand?”

All the champions nodded to show their understanding, although none spoke aloud.

“Excellent. Mr Malfoy is here in Mr Crouches stead; he will explain the rest of your instructions.” He turned to Lucius, offering him the floor.

“I am here to offer up the Ministry’s congratulations on persevering in these challenges this year and reaching this point in the competition. The points stand with Mr Diggory and Mr Potter-Snape sharing the first position followed by Mr Krum and Miss Delacour respectively. There will be a three minute delay between each of the positions. If you will stand next to your flags, we can begin momentarily.” His voice was quiet and steady, imparting needed information without any flourishes. Harry actually appreciated this as he doubted he could stomach any flowery speeches at this point. He parted ways with his competitors who each stood next to their flags in front of their individual entrances. Along the banks of the stands, signs lit up showing quadrupled divided screens so that the audience could see what was happening inside the maze.

While waiting for the signal to start, Harry looked around at the stands, taking in the students, teachers and officials as well as sundry folk from the surrounding area and, of course, the journalists who were mumbling to their dicta-Quills while their photographers were snapping photos right and left. Harry spotted the Gryffindor contingent pretty quickly and raised a tentative hand to wave at his friends. Fred and George cheered him on while still taking bets and Fred flashed him fingers that said his odds had risen to five to one. Much better than before! That was encouraging. He had to laugh when he spotted Draco’s friend, Luna, sporting a Lion’s head that roared periodically, apparently annoying Hermione who had edged away from the girl putting her conveniently closer to Draco.

He nodded at his brother, flashing him a confident grin then peered over at the teacher’s box where his father was sitting between his head of house and Hagrid. Harry stood a little straighter under their gazes and let his wand drop into his hand as he heard the bell that signalled that it was time for him and Cedric to enter the maze.

He looked one last time over to where the Hufflepuff stood – catching the others gaze - and, as one, they entered the maze.

Harry had once read a book in his primary school library that had said that the traditional way to solve a maze was to trail a hand along one wall, leaving it there and turning when the wall turned. The only problem: this was not a traditional maze. The walls could move and change the direction of the Maze. Harry began walking along his first corridor, the tall hedges looming darkly over him. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the entrance close up as the enchanted branches meshed to block the entrance. The only way out was forward.

When he reached the first junction he laid his wand in his hand and incanted “Point me Tri-Wizard cup.”

The wand spun once in his hand, causing a tickling sensation and nearly making him clench his fingers in an automatic reaction. But he’d been practicing this spell for a while and he knew how it worked, so he gritted his teeth and rode out the desire, watching as the wand pointed a bit to his right. Right it was, then.

He took off, more confident, and began to work his way towards what he assumed was the centre of the maze. A far off bong sounded and he realised that three minutes had already passed and Krum had just now entered the maze. Several more turns, encountering nothing more than yards upon yards of box hedges and Harry was beginning to wonder if Dumbledore had been pulling their leg about there being other obstacles in the maze.

A final tone sounded from the school bell, and Harry knew that all his competitors were now racing through the structure, trying to find the cup that would give them the win. He and Cedric had a six minute lead on Fleur – was it enough?

As he kept walking, he was getting more and more confused. Hadn’t he walked by that particular urn before? He remembered the cracked handle – he was sure he’d seen it – but no, there was another one in a niche further along... They were identical. Bloody hell.

He tried the point me spell again and saw that the direction for the cup was now more to the left. He adjusted his turns and kept going – but he was getting nowhere fast. Spying a wooden bench, he threw some detection spells at it – one can never be too cautious – and when it came up clean, he sat down to resettle his mind.

****

Hermione let out a frustrated sound, pounding the wooden seat beneath her. “What is he doing? Now is not the time to sit and ponder!” She ignored the amused glance her boyfriend gave her, keeping her eyes on the screen closest to them. She watched as Fleur and Krum advanced into the corridors, cautiously making their way forward. Cedric had already dispatched with a Fire Crab Hybrid, getting scorched a bit – but otherwise unharmed – and was cheered loudly by the Hufflepuffs.

Draco nudged her shoulder. “Just watch,” he whispered. “In a moment Harry will realise what to do.”

She looked at him incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“Just watch,” he repeated confidently.

****

Harry closed his eyes, entering that state of mind where he could visualise the magic around him. This was why he was confused, why he was getting lost; there was too much - he could feel the magic all around him, pressing in from all sides. He needed to separate them out – choose only that which would allow him to obtain the prize. He had this ability – he’d been honing it all year. Slowly, as his breathing slowed, he reached with his magic and felt the energy around him.

He searched for the brightest source of that energy, assuming that it should be the cup. Opening his eyes, he could see the faint line of magic leading from him, urging him on. The spectators could not see what he did; all they could see was him standing up with a sense of confidence and determination as he set off.

Following that faint line, Harry kept his senses stretched and thus was warned to step aside when a body came hurtling through the hedge to land at his feet. He dropped to his knees and rolled away catching a glimpse of Krum through the hole in the shrubbery.

Harry was chilled to the bone when he saw Krum’s eyes – fixed and staring straight ahead, a robotic gait carrying him off. Harry had seen that look often enough in Moody’s class this year; the man insisted that everyone had to know what it felt like to have the lesser of the three evils cast upon them. Krum had been Imperiused.

And Fleur had been his first target.

Making sure that Krum had departed, Harry scrambled over to the unconscious girl. She was obviously out of the competition. Krum had cast a strong enough hex that had knocked her out while blowing her straight through the foliage. Covered in scratches and bits of twigs and leaves, it didn’t look as if anything was broken. She was breathing freely and nothing was bleeding profusely. Nodding, satisfied with his assessment, he took her wand and cast the sparks with it, marking her spot. Then, confident that an official would Apparate to her quickly, he continued on following his glowing string.

****

“Did you see that?” Hermione gasped. Draco was sure he would eventually regain the feeling in his right arm from where she clutched at it. “And what is with the officials? They are all just sitting there! That couldn’t have been legal – did you see his eyes?”

Draco had seen Krum’s eyes; they had the clear look of an imperiused person. He glanced at the Judges box, noting that his sire sat there in his chair, legs crossed and hands resting on his cane head. The picture of supreme confidence. Dumbledore was seemingly unconcerned as well and this bothered Draco a lot; more than he cared to admit at this point.

Letting his eyes wander to where his father was sitting amongst the teachers, Draco could see that the man was worried but he was restraining McGonagall from rising up and protesting.

“Dad wants this to play out,” he murmured to his girlfriend.

“What? I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“I think he wants to see who this draws up, hoping to catch whoever is behind all this,” he explained.

Hermione bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling; whether from anger or fear, she wasn’t sure.

****

 Harry had come across his first obstacle: a section of wall that, instead of being made of the regular hedge material, was made of Devils Snare. Harry had nearly been choked by it before he remembered that it hated bright light and managed to wordlessly light his wand with a bright Lumos spell that caused the vines to slither back into the underbrush, shying away from his brandished wand. He rubbed ruefully at his neck where it felt like there were rope burns on his skin, but continued on, not wanting to get stuck in that section longer than necessary.

****

Draco was convinced that it would be a week before the circulation was restored in his arm. He didn’t dare shake Hermione off, though. He reached over and gently released her lower lip from under her teeth before she punctured holes in it. She looked at him, worry clearly written in her eyes.

“He could’ve died!” she blurted out.

“But he didn’t, he remembered and used the appropriate spell. He’s doing fine, ‘Mione,” he assured the witch. “Look, Cedric is facing a Dementor!”

She gave a squeak and hid her face in her hands and his jacket, not wanting to look.

****

Harry was jogging now; he’d cast a tempus charm and realised he’d been in the maze nearly forty minutes and didn’t seem any closer to the centre. The sky overhead was pitch black, and the light from the waning gibbous moon was weak inside the shadowed corridors. Every ten metres there had popped up flaming torches, but their pools of light were small and did not reach all the way to the next torch.

Harry kept his magical and human senses at full alert, and he was still following the faint trail that connected him to his goal: the cup.

He turned a corner and came upon an open area that housed a large creature who was lounging in front of the exit, eyeing his entrance as if prey had come into their lair. A rattle of leaves behind him caused him to turn around and see that the entrance was now grown over. The only way out was past this beast. He sighed.

“Welcome, young traveller. Do you know what I am?” The voice was heavily accented, but he could understand her.

Harry nodded. He had seen pictures in Muggle primary school of the statues in Egypt, and he’d read his magical creatures books. Part Lion, part beautiful woman. Fond of riddles and quite deadly to those who were unable to answer correctly.

“You’re a Sphinx,” he answered.

“Very good,” she approved.

“And I have to answer a riddle to get past you?” he guessed. She inclined her head, keeping her eyes on him.

“Can I choose not to answer the riddle?” he decided to ask – might as well make sure of all exit routes.

“You could, but then your goal would be as far away as if you’d just begun your quest.” Great, a forty minute penalty.

“Alright then, give me your riddle,” he acceded.

Nodding her head, she straightened up, assuming a pose that had been immortalised in many statues from around the world. And in a sing-song voice she pronounced:

“This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down”

Harry stared at her incredulously.

****

Hermione moaned. “This isn’t his strong suit; oh, Harry, just think. It is simple if you just think!”

Draco knew the answer, but he used to play this game with his mother and if he answered correctly he’d get extra time with his pony, or get to choose which lesson to skip, or maybe just get an extra desert after dinner.

He glanced to his left at Luna who was also sitting there, a non-worried expression on her face. She looked up at him.

“Harry Snape will figure it out; he is quite intelligent for a Gryffindor.” If Hermione had heard that, she gave no indication as she was still mumbling to herself on his other side. He looked past her to where Weasley sat, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Stumped there, Weasley?” he drawled, amusedly. Ron just shot him an annoyed glare.

“I don’t see the point in it? Why ask a riddle?”

“Why not? It’s quite dangerous – oh, not the riddle – but if he does not answer it correctly, Sphinxes traditionally eat the losers.”

Hermione whimpered at that and Ron looked alarmed.

****

“Severus, does Harry know what will happen if he doesn’t answer correctly?” McGonagall asked the worried father.

“He knows. Remember, they covered Sphinxes last year – but he’s never been in front of one before and I have no idea if he ever studied riddles. And Diggory fighting off the Dementor... What is Albus thinking, allowing these creatures here.”

“And Krum...” she added.

“Yes, he is a loose cannon in there. He’s been imperiused. I don’t know when, and I don’t know by whom. Minerva, I’m going to go talk to Moody – maybe he’s seen something. He just got back from bringing in Delacour.”

Taking his leave of the nervous transfiguration professor, Severus melted into the shadows of the box and made his way down to the Healer’s tent where the Delacour girl was being revived by Madam Pomfrey. Mad-Eye was standing close by, watching the proceedings. Severus took the spot next to him, adopting a similar stance.

“What did you see?” he asked his colleague, never actually looking at the man.

“I saw the curse come in, but could not see who cast it – too many bodies around. It was done just as he entered the maze.”

“Do we leave him in there?”

“He’s three minutes behind the rest, I would say he’s no longer a threat – but I’d rather see what his ultimate instructions are. If they were to get at Snape, then why not take the opportunity when it presented itself? He was right there and yet Krum continued on.”

“Remove Harry’s competition?” Severus ventured.

“Possibly... To what end? Just so that it is down to Harry and Krum?”

“Maybe...”

They watched in silence, trying to puzzle out the riddle of Krum while Harry struggled with his posed Riddle.

****

Harry turned the riddle over and over in his head, but he could not see what could cause all the variables. Water almost covered all of them, but not quite.

He began pacing around... the riddle going round and round in his brain.

“Are you giving up?” she asked, an eager tone in her voice as a dribble of drool slid down from one side of her mouth in her anticipation of a tasty morsel.

“No, no, I just need more...” He slapped himself in his forehead and turned to face her. Yes, that had to be the answer – it fit all the variables. He tested them in his head once more, just to make sure, then confronted the ferocious beast.

“Time. Time is the answer,” he declared.

Visibly deflating, she pouted. “Yes, yes... that was too easy, obviously. Best two out of three?” She sounded hopeful.

“Erm, no thank you. One per customer, I believe, and I’m really low on time myself – must go,” he said, easing himself past the golden lion’s swishing tail. “It was nice meeting you!” he told her, sprinting for the opening in the hedge.

He popped through it only to be met by freezing cold, and the greatest despair ever began to descend upon him.

“And I complained early on of there not being any obstacles... Bloody Merlin...” He’d broken out into a cold sweat, but took himself back to his lessons the previous term with Professor Lupin. He knew he could do this – he just needed to enter the right frame of mind, and quickly. He could feel the depression taking over with each passing second.

As the decaying collection of bones and robes swayed down the corridor towards him, he raised his inner shields, protecting his thoughts and extracted a happy one: an evening at the Manor this past summer, sitting in the parlour with Draco and his father, playing chess. The warmth and love from the memory suffused his system and he brandished his wand with confidence shouting: “Expecto Patronum”

A large antlered buck emerged from his wand, stepping in front of the boy and facing down the Dementor. The creature backed away at the fearsome light that slowly paced its way forward. Harry followed, wand out and directing the stag Patronus until he was able to move past the cold spectre into another corridor. Prongs then paced up to Harry and bowed his head to the child, letting Harry reach a hand out to touch the semi-solid piece of plasma energy.

Warmth permeated his soul and he smiled in spite of himself, finally letting the Patronus fade away before recapturing the pathway with a sigh. He loved seeing his Patronus, watching his father’s animagus form ride again. It was his way of keeping a piece of his step-father with him at all times.

Following his glowing string, he managed to make several more turns before he threw himself to the ground just as Cedric told him to duck. Spells ricocheted around him as Krum attacked Cedric and Diggory responded back, finally taking down the Durmstrang champion with a well-placed Knee-Reversing hex causing Krum to fall flat on his back as his legs buckled in the wrong direction.

Cedric quickly bound the other champion, kicking away his wand after casting the red sparks with it. He was about to cast an even stronger curse when Harry grabbed his wand arm, forcing it down.

“Don’t, Cedric – he’s been imperiused. Didn’t you notice his eyes?”

“I was paying more attention to the fact that he was trying to kill me! Those weren’t innocent hexes and jinxes he was throwing, Snape!”

“I know – trust me! He’s already taken out Fleur! I was there. Look, you’ve marked his position for the Auror squad, let’s just leave him for them, they’ll figure out what happened,” he pleaded. Diggory looked like he was about to cave and Harry took a breath to continue the argument when the tell-tale rustling signalled a change in the shrubbery.

They both turned and watched as a long corridor was revealed and glimmering at the end was the Tri-Wizard Cup.

They both looked at it, then at each other before setting off at a dead-run.

Evenly matched in speed despite their difference in sizes, they raced neck and neck down the green tunnel, one goal in mind – reach the cup.

****

The crowd was going wild. Everyone was jumping up and down in the stands causing them to creak groan in protest.

Noise makers were whirling through the air, screaming in high pitched whistles while their owners screamed down below watching as the screens – now showing only one picture – captured the race to the finish.

Hermione had finally let go of Draco’s arm – for which he was infinitely grateful – only to capture his hand instead, crushing it in her own in her excitement. He had no clue how such a delicate little thing like Hermione Granger could have a grip as strong as a Dragon’s mouth, and he wasn’t about to risk his life by asking her. He watched as the two Hogwarts champions ran towards the shining trophy.

Beside him, Luna’s lion hat was roaring to beat the band and she wore a happy smile on her face as her eyes were glued to the run between Harry and Diggory.

****

The two Hogwarts champions burst into the clearing at the same time, pulling up before the short piece of statuary that the cup sat upon, glowing in all its glory. Both of their hands were reached out towards it before they dropped simultaneously to their sides.

“We got here at the same time...” Cedric began.

“It would be a victory for Hogwarts either way...” Harry continued, catching on.

“On three then?” Diggory concluded.

“On three. One...” They both stepped to one side of the cup, each facing a handle.

“Two...” They each raised a hand to hover near their handle.

“Three!” They both grabbed their handle at the same time and felt the expected pull of the Portkey spell grab them behind the navel and yank them out of the maze.

****

The screams of triumph died on the lips of the spectators when the expected trio of cup and two Hogwarts Champions did not appear on the lawn in front of the Judges stand.

Moody stumped to the middle of the lawn and cast his eye upon the maze, everyone quieting down as they watched him. Slowly his gaze travelled over and through the hedgerows before he turned and made his grave announcement.

“They are not anywhere in there. Someone changed the spell on the cup.”

 

Harry and Cedric landed with a thump on the turf, each rolling a bit after releasing the cup. Harry stood up, brushing off his jeans before looking around expecting to see the staging area where they had originally begun this task. Instead of cheering crowds standing in the bleachers, another – quieter – sight met his eyes instead.

“Erm, Cedric?”

“Yeah?” said the other boy.

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore...” Harry mumbled, gazing at decrepit stone edifices marching off into the distance, yew trees dotting the rolling landscape here and there. On a hill, high above, a Victorian manse stood in all its eerie glory, the moon behind it highlighting its ragged edges. It looked familiar, but Harry couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before.

“What?” Cedric had obviously never read or seen ‘The Wizard of Oz’. “Harry where are we? Aren’t we supposed to be at the starting point?” Cedric’s wand was out, a sense of foreboding coming over him, and Harry had quickly followed suit.

Harry turned around and stared at the tall grave stone behind him; a family marker that spanned several graves – a large avenging angel casting its shadow over all that dared approach. Harry cautiously moved forward to read the mossy inscription: Mary Riddle (1883 - 1943); Mathias Riddle (1880 – 1943); and Tom Riddle (1905 - 1943).

Harry backed away, panic seizing him. “Cedric, take the cup – get back to the maze...” His voice shook, but he put as much emphasis as he could in his request. “Please Cedric, just go! Now... before something happens!” His scar began pulsing, beating a tattoo of doom in his head and he slammed the heel of his hand against it, grimacing in pain.

Cedric hesitated, looking at the younger teen as if he was crazy. Harry could see a figure approaching from the shadows nearby, a large round object floating behind it, sloshing sounds carrying across the wind and he whirled around to face his friend. “Trust me, go now!” In desperation he used a wandless charm to push the other boy towards the discarded trophy that twinkled innocently on the ground.  From the corner of his eye he spotted Pettigrew raising his arm about to brandish his wand. He was holding a bundle in his other arm.

“Harry... who is that man...” Cedric asked, taking a step towards his friend.

“Cedric, no time – go back, warn my father, please!” Harry pleaded. He was too far away to make a dive for the cup, but Cedric was standing right next to it. With one more push, Cedric stumbled and landed on top of the cup, winking away just as a green curse smacked the ground where he’d just been.

Harry whirled in place to face the fallen marauder, wand up.

“How very Gryffindor of you, Harry,” came the childish, evil voice from his dreams. Pain again blossomed across his forehead as his scar burst open and blood dripped down his face. He raised his left arm to wipe away the liquid, never letting his eyes waver from the threat in front of him. “But he wasn’t needed anyway; I only need you – well, and your blood of course.” The cackling laugh raised the hackles at the back of Harry’s neck and he backed away from the approaching duo. As they came out of the shadows Harry could see that Pettigrew was carrying a small figure in his arms, wrapped in black material like a baby bunting. He could not see under the folds, and he suspected he really did not want to see what the creature looked like.

Peter leered at him before flicking his wand at Harry, throwing him back against the Riddle headstone. Before Harry could spring away, the arms had come down and trapped him and Pettigrew had plucked his wand out of his hand – dropping it to the ground.

“Do it!” the voice commanded from deep within the wrappings. Peter levitated the gigantic cauldron that had followed them into the area, to a clear space in front of the grave stone; large enough to boil a man alive, Harry decided. A magical fire was kindled underneath and the liquid within was soon roiling away, throwing off sparks every now and then.

Peter gently laid the bundle on the ground, unwrapping it reverently. Harry, fascinated in spite of himself, looked down and nearly vomited right then. The creature was hideously deformed – a mere shadow of a human form and seemed almost – snake-like – in its miniature features. With red eyes and no nose to speak of - merely slits in the skull - it was grotesque. The form consisted of a head sorts and a trunk, but the arms and legs were tiny, vestigial – almost like afterthoughts. A large monstrous python followed them into the clearing and curled up next to the figure on the ground, tongue flicking out and caressing the body. Silicia squirmed on Harry’s arm, hearing the other snake, but she stilled again.

Wormtail obviously found it distasteful to touch this version of his master, his mouth frowning as he reached down to pick up the thing. But it urged him on, and he complied, eventually dropping it into the cauldron where it sank to the bottom of the glistening potion with a gentle plop.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, praying the thing would drown, but they shot back open as Peter began to recite an incantation.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given...” As Harry watched, a crack opened in the grave below him and a long bone came floating out, shrouding still trailing behind it. It hovered in the air for a moment before falling into the brew. The colours floating on the surface changed from lavender to red as it was absorbed.

Peter walked over to the cauldron and after pocketing his wand, brandished a small scythe over his wrist. Harry couldn’t believe what he saw happen next.

“Flesh of the servant, willingly given...” A flash of silver in the moonlight and a scream from the little man’s throat signalled the loss of the hand, willingly severed and offered in sacrifice to the resurrection of his master.

Clumsily using his wand in his off hand, Wormtail cauterised his wound as best as he was able - although it still seeped blood - and stifling his whimpers, took up the scythe again and approached Harry.

Harry writhed against his restraints, but they were stone; they weren’t going to let him go. He tried in vain to keep Peter from getting to him, but the man was relentless and kept coming forward, a mad glint in his eye.

“Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken...” Harry screamed as the tip of the knife sliced into his forearm, crossing the scar left behind by the Basilisk fang from his second year. He clamped his mouth shut in order to watch as Pettigrew gathered up his blood on the edge of the blade that was pouring down his arm and carried it over to the bubbling mixture which was now a deep blue in colour. As the drops landed on the surface, the potion began turning darker and darker until, with the third and last drop, the potion turned as black as midnight and as still as a piece of glass; but only for a second.

In an instant the potion exploded upward in a billowing pillar of black smoke and as it settled out, Harry could detect the figure of a man standing where the cauldron used to be; Wormtail cowering and cringing at its feet.

“Robe me, Wormtail,” came the commanding voice.

“Y-yes, my lord,” Peter genuflected to his superior. He drew from an inner pocket a set of black robes, standing to drape them around his master’s new formidable form.

“My wand,” was the next command and Pettigrew reluctantly handed over the wand he’d been using for the last thirteen years. Voldemort caressed it like a long lost lover, smiling as he felt the power surge from his core through the yew wood. Yes, just like a lover coming home after a long time away.

He finally took notice of his sole minion in the graveyard and commanded him to come nearer. “Your arm, Wormtail.”

Thinking that his lord was going to fix his handless appendage, he held out his stump only to have it slapped away.

“Your other arm, you imbecile!” Peter slowly raised his left arm, cringing as his master pushed his sleeve up roughly exposing his pulsing and angry looking dark mark.

Stabbing the centre of it with his wand tip, the mark exploded with pain and Peter could feel the call go out to all living Death Eaters; their master was alive and was calling them home.

****

Officials were pacing in the Judges box while Aurors quartered the staging area. Spectators were gathering in clumps in the stands to whisper loudly about what was – and wasn’t – happening with the end of the tournament. Only the teachers, Aurors and judges were allowed on the field. All others were being kept in the stands.

Draco was frustrated; he wanted to go down and speak with his father – where was his brother and Diggory? The Weasley twins were discussing whether to set up a new wager on Harry’s chances of returning when their sister, Ginny, threatened them with her famous Bat Bogey hex if they even tried. Ron was looking thunderous and Daphne was trying to calm him down, without any success, and Hermione was biting her lower lip again. It was a mark of how upset she was that she didn’t even bat an eye when Pansy came over to speak with them.

“What do you think,” the Slytherin asked quietly.

“You don’t want to know what I think, Parkinson,” Draco replied. “I think there is a traitor in this school and Harry and Diggory have been kidnapped and taken to Him...”

Hermione whimpered as he spoke aloud her fears and Neville, behind him, hid his face in his hands.

“You can’t be serious,” Pansy stated.

“Dead serious. My sire managed to worm his way into officiating this final task, Pansy; you tell me,” he challenged, raising an eyebrow in emphasis. Their families had been allied under the previous regime of the Dark Lord, which was why they had been promised to each other since they were toddlers. Pansy knew where Lucius’ true allegiances lay just as well as Draco.

“You think he’s back?” she asked, clearly frightened. The blond just nodded sadly, putting an arm around Hermione and hugging her close to his side in comfort. Pansy turned away and gazed contemplatively across the field watching, always watching.

Severus was talking quietly with Moody when a snap in the air caused them to turn and watch as Cedric Diggory tumbled onto the lawn, a bent cup underneath his body. A cry arose from the stands as he jumped up, pushing off his congratulatory father who was clearly under the impression Cedric had somehow won through all on his own through some last unseen challenge.

“He won! Cedric won! Over Harry Potter – my boy won!” pronounced the proud father, ignoring his son’s protests. Finally, Cedric just had to grab the man by both upper arms and shake him until he stopped talking and actually listened to his son.

“Dad, DAD! I didn’t win – I swear I didn’t – Dad! I have to get to Professor Snape!” He dropped his father’s arms and turned around only to run face first into his teacher’s buttoned waist coat. Looking up into the taller man’s face, Cedric could see the anger brewing in those dark eyes.

“Diggory – where is my son?” The voice was icy cold and Cedric shivered under its blast but held his ground to deliver his news. He wasn’t a firstie any longer, to get intimidated by the demanding teacher.

“Sir, Harry forced me to leave – just in time, too, as someone tried to kill me just as I Ported out,” he explained, whey faced.

“Where were you taken?” Moody asked, his wonky eye roving everywhere but straight at Cedric.

“Some graveyard...” Cedric gulped in some air – he was still a bit winded after his sprint and the sudden Porting. Now that he was home safely, his adrenaline rush was subsiding, leaving him shaking. “Harry was reading one of the stones when he literally pushed me onto the cup and it brought me back here. There was some short guy approaching with his wand held out. I tried to stay, I did, sir...” The emotions of the day were catching up to the lad and Severus could see the Hufflepuff was nearing his breaking point, breath coming in gasps and starts as he tried to hold back threatening sobs. He was a good lad, a true scion of his house, and Severus could tell it had hurt him to leave Harry behind. His eyes softened as he let a comforting hand fall on the teen’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. Go with your father, Diggory. Let Pomfrey give you a calming potion. Thank you for bringing us this information,” Severus said, guiding the young man back to his father’s side.

“Sir, who was it? Why did Harry push me away?” Cedric asked, standing his ground.

“I’m afraid to say, Diggory. Someone dangerous, that’s for sure.” Oh, he knew – there was only one culprit in this game; one culprit with many minions, but he didn’t want to make the boy worry more than he already was.

“He saved my life, sir, I don’t want...”

“Let’s just hope he returns safely.” Cedric nodded, although he didn’t really think his young friend would return alive. He finally allowed his father to lead him to the healer’s area.

Severus walked over to stand next to Moody as the old Auror examined the flattened cup, wand scanning the metal trophy as the warrior read the results.

“Someone’s definitely tampered with this cup, Snape. Who put it into the maze?”

“Good question; one I think Albus should answer. Do you see him?” The two men looked around, not seeing the distinctive white beard immediately. Instead, Snape spotted Lucius and Karkarof both easing themselves away from the crowds and in different directions. Igor looked frightened and Severus dismissed him as of no matter, the man was a coward – let him run; but Lucius looked like someone being calculating, and failing to get rid of the female leech that was trying to drag him back to the box.

Severus headed in his direction but was nearly brought to his knees as a wave of burning pain rushed up his arm. He locked eyes with Malfoy and knew the man was feeling the same thing. A sneer creeped its way across Lucius’ face and he was finally able to wrench his arm out of his companion’s grip and saunter away with nary a glance back at Snape. A nearby clap of air signalled Igor’s sudden escape.

Severus shook off the pain - he’d forgotten how debilitating it was – and let his wand fall into his grip, hurrying after his former friend.

He cornered the man under the stands, throwing up anti-apparition and anti-portkeying wards before calling out the man’s name.

“Lucius, you can’t go anywhere – so turn and tell me what you’ve done, for I know it has to be you.” Severus held the man at wand point, a duelling circle of fire surrounding them, penning them in. Lucius slowly turned to face his opponent, drawing his wand out of the end of his walking stick and tossing the lower part to the ground. He stood in the traditional dueller’s stance while Severus slowly walked the inner perimeter.

“What I’ve done, Severus? What I’ve always done. Ensured that the right people are in position for the right places of power. In this case, I ensured that your son was in place for the cup to take him to his destiny – facing the Dark Lord in the flesh. Something our lord has wanted to have happen for a long time now.”

“Your lord maybe, Lucius, but not mine – never mine,” Snape declared.

“So you say, but the mark burns on your arm the same as mine, Severus. Feel his call? He’s waiting for us to answer – and it will only burn hotter and deeper if he is kept waiting.”

Severus knew this to be true, he’d seen the remains of those who had thought they could avoid the summons. He did not intend to ever end up like them, like Reg... “Where is he, Lucius?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know; but I don’t think I will divulge. No, I think I’ll let you wait. The Dark Lord will kill your precious son – now that there is no longer blood protection. Oh, yes. Didn’t think he knew about that, did you?” he taunted, throwing out random hexes almost playfully, which Severus was forced to bat aside like stinging gnats.

“I can kill you, Lucius, and then what precious use will you be?” Severus tried.

“He’d kill me if I told, so either way I’d be dead – wouldn’t I? I think I’ll hold on to my secret, thank you very much.” He danced back on one foot as Snape let fly with a blood whip curse, barely getting out of reach of the crackling end of the spell-whip. “Temper, temper...” he taunted.

“As you wish... Lucy,” Severus snarked, smiling as the pet-name hit home, raising the other wizard’s ire to the boiling point. The spells flew fast and heavy and the two men were soon drenched in sweat as they kept to the edge of the spell-ring. The dispelled energy from their magics lit up the night under the bleachers. Both accustomed to hiding their emotions, no matter what the circumstance, found this fight was breaking through those barriers and both men were grunting with exertion, their faces etched in exhaustion and pain. Moody had somehow found them and was standing outside watching silently, like a ravaged gargoyle, stone-faced as the evenly matched duellers fought.

Malfoy’s shiny new Hippogriff hide boots were his undoing as they were still relatively unscuffed on the soles. One misstep on the slick grass and he was down in a thrice with Severus’ patented hex boring down on him and slicing him in a hundred deep tissue scores. He slipped some more in his own gore, feeling his life-force quickly draining from him. Severus knelt in the dirt near his head, plucking his wand from his hand and handing it up to the waiting Auror.

“Where is he, Lucius?” Severus gently asked.

“I only wanted to regain our status, take what is rightfully ours...” the proud patriarch gasped, blood running from the corner of his mouth, breath bubbling in his throat.

“I know. Look into my eyes, Lucius...” Snape tried again, all the compulsion he could put in his words forcing Lucius to turn his head and stare into the deep, black pools that were Severus’ enigmatic orbs. As he took his last breath, Snape sighed with him, closing his former friend’s eyes and laying the man back down onto the bloody grass.

“Well?” Moody asked, a bit harshly, but Severus overlooked it. He had other things on his mind.

“Riddle Manor; the town graveyard in Little Hangleton; we must hurry.” He rose from the dead man’s side and let two of Moody’s trainees take over the handling of the body while Moody gave the location to several other Aurors who had hurried over during the fight. Dispelling the wards he’d placed on the area to prevent Lucius from leaving, he grabbed Alastor by the elbow, touched his wand to his own Dark Mark and answered the call one last time.

****

Harry watched as black, silver masked shadows oozed out of the darkness to stand silently in a circle around their master. But the circle was not complete; there were empty areas where Harry assumed there should be someone, but they either were not alive, were in prison or could not respond for some other reason.

Voldemort paced around the inside of the circle, surveying his remaining minions – all bowing their heads as he passed. Pettigrew was the lone unmasked follower, whimpering in his place as he cradled his maimed arm.

“So, here are my devoted Death Eaters – those who were able to stay out of prison. Sadly, I see several of our number are missing. The LeStranges and the Carrows are still in Azkaban, willing to go to prison for their beliefs. One I fear is lost forever, having made his priorities known recently by revealing himself as the true sire of their saviour. No matter, I will kill him just as readily as I will kill his son.” He sent a decided smirk in Harry’s direction and several of the Death Eaters chuckled for a moment, sharing in their lord’s mirth. Harry glared daggers back, unable to do much more. He’d tried using his wandless capabilities, but something about the statue was dampening his access to his magic.

Peter grovelled again as his lord walked by. “I-I found you my lord, and cared for you until you could rise again,” he helpfully pointed out.

Riddle halted and looked down on the cowering buffoon. “So you did, Wormtail. But was it out of loyalty to me, or just because I was a better option than your former friends – who wanted your head on a platter, hmmm?” Several others surrounding the pair chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling across the grass. Peter squirmed under the scrutiny.

“For you, my lord. I’ve always been devoted to you... I found you and brought you that ministry worker who knew what was happening this year... and I milked Nagini so you could get stronger...”

“So you did, my little cretin. And for that you should be rewarded.” He raised his wand, pointing it at Wormtail who suddenly looked apprehensive. A spell flowed from his lord’s wand, silvery and shining, and it attached itself to Peter’s new stump, fitting like a glove. In a moment he was wearing a brand new silver hand that he flexed and turned, admiring its perfection. Picking up a large rock that was nearby, he squeezed it with his new superior appendage and grinned as it exploded into dust.

“Thank you, my Lord, oh thank you!” he said effusively.

Voldemort nodded, then continued in his pacing and pontificating  – obviously enjoying the feel of the earth against his feet once more as his toes caressed the turf. “To return to those who are missing before I was rudely interrupted; one has turned coward and has run this night, I feel him trying to get away even now. I will find him, never fear, and he will understand why you can never escape my wrath. One is plotting even still, buried deep in the old fool’s school, but one is missing... my agent in the Ministry...” He turned to Wormtail. “Where is Lucius, Peter? Why isn’t he here?”

Peter, jerked from caressing his new hand, shook under Voldemort’s attention. “I-I don’t know, my Lord; he was to place the cup and then Apparate with the others when you called.  P-perhaps he was delayed?”

“Perhaps... Well, I shall know soon enough.” He turned in place before walking over to stand next to Harry, the masks following his every move.

“As you’ve noticed, we have a guest tonight at our rebirth party. And truly, without his assistance, we would not be here. Of course, without his assistance thirteen years ago, I wouldn’t need a rebirth! I give you Harry Potter – Snape –“ Growls were heard coming from under the masks as the Dark Lord spat the final name, the name of the traitor to their cause. “The Boy-Who-Lived. Say hallo, Harry!” he commanded, an Imperius clear in his vocal demand.

Harry easily shook off the command – something he’d discovered in Moody’s class. Apparently he was pretty immune to the Imperius. The first time in class he’d nearly broken his legs as he’d been given the command to hop off a desk and he’d tried to fight the compulsion. Moody had been impressed – not easily done, the students had discovered – and had drilled Harry during their private sessions until the strongest command either he or Severus could muster slid right off Harry’s brain.

Harry hawked up the largest wad he could and spat it at Voldemort’s feet, realising right afterwards that may not have been the wisest thing to do. He could just hear his dad decrying his Gryffindor tendencies, and see Draco shaking his head side to side in despair at his brother’s stupidity to taunt one of the world’s most powerful sorcerers.

Voldemort stared at the phlegm that had landed inches away from his bare toes for a moment before a look of rage came over his face.

“You dare? You dare to defy me?” He approached the teen and Harry stood his ground. “Do you know where you stand? You are standing on the grave of my father – my Muggle father!” He whispered into Harry’s ear. “The man who denied I even existed. I killed him, you know – I delighted in it, just as I will delight in killing you, you pathetic little boy.” He stepped back a pace and gazed at Harry, a calculating look entering his reddened eyes.

“Yesssss... We shall duel, you and I – a proper duel so that my followers can see who is the greatest wizard. You see, my friends, my  - setback – thirteen years ago was simply due to an ancient piece of magic, set into motion by poor Lily Potter’s – or should I say, Lilly Snape’s – “ He sneered at Harry, “sacrifice for her son. Yes, an ancient binding – one that has been negated today by my using his blood in my resurrection ritual. Now that protection lies in both of us and I can now - touch him.” Matching word to deed, he stroked a blackened talon along Harry’s cheek before letting it land on Harry’s scar causing excruciating pain in his head. Harry screamed, and his pain seemed to please the other man. “Yessss – so different from the last time we met; eh, Harry? Your mother’s sacrifice saved you then – to Quirrel’s demise, but no more. Now we shall stand on equal ground – wizard to wizard.”

Cackling madly, Voldemort stepped back from his prey and, waving his wand, released Harry from the Angel’s arms. Harry stumbled and fell, returning circulation knifing through his legs.

“We shall duel, Harry. Pick up your wand and face me like a man! Pick it up!” He commanded, clearly impatient.

Grunting with effort, Harry reached over to his wand and felt returning warmth as it fit snugly in his hand. He levered himself to his feet and turned to face his nemesis.

“No one shall interfere,” Voldemort commanded. “This death is mine, and mine alone to deliver; and it shall be done honouring the proper protocols!” Murmurs rose from the circle that sounded like people agreeing to the conditions. Riddle turned back around to face his opponent.

“Now, remember your lessons, Harry – we bow to each other, taking each other’s measure like so.” He bowed – his wand raised in front of his face and Harry matched him move for move. “Excellent, Dumbledore did teach you properly.”

“Not Dumbledore,” Harry said coldly, addressing the older wizard for the first time since the man had risen from the ashes of the cauldron. “My father.”

They began slowly circling each other, eyes never wavering.

“I see. Well let us see how well you learned your lessons – Confringo!”

“Protego!” Harry cried, bringing up his shield just in time to reflect the blasting curse so that it exploded on the ground between them, sending up clods of turf and dirt. “Impedimenta!” he shot back which Voldemort batted aside with a small flick of his wand.

A few more exchanges like that and Harry was panting, realising that he was in over his head. Voldemort was able to parry everything Harry sent him and Harry was barely keeping the other’s curses at bay. He decided to switch to non-verbal spells, trying to gain some time until his father could find him. He had to believe that the man would try to rescue him, although he didn’t know how that could be accomplished.

A non-verbal Incarcerous actually managed to start binding the Dark Lord before he finited the spell with a growl, sending an Expulso headed straight at Harry. Seeing himself close to a grave marker, Harry jumped behind it, letting the granite take the brunt of the spell, showering him with broken bits. Raising his head slightly to see where the man was, Harry sent off “Locomotor Mortis”, imagining Voldemort’s legs locking together. But the man was able to block it at the last second and Harry was forced to duck again as another blasting curse took off the top half of the grave stone.

“Come out, Harry – you are not playing fairly. You are supposed to face me like a wizard,” Voldemort taunted. “Not cower behind stones.”

Harry was tired and he didn’t know how much longer he could last. His magical reserves were feeling the strain of this duel. He finally remembered Draco’s Portkey in his pocket, having duplicated the earring before handing over the copy to his father at Dumbledore’s behest. He’d gotten very good at transfiguring things into jewellery. Reaching a finger into the tiny pocket, he touched the earring, whispering the trigger phrase.

He felt a yank, but something blocked him moving and he realised that Voldemort or Pettigrew must have raised wards around the area after Cedric had ported out. They wouldn’t have affected Dark Marks, as those were advanced summoning charms built into the evil tattoo. Sighing in frustration, he pictured in his mind his family and friends, thankful he’d been able to get Cedric out of harms way. Diggory hadn’t signed up for this when he’d entered the tournament; but Harry had somehow known from the beginning that this would most likely be the outcome of this contest. Somehow he’d be facing Voldemort once again. Thinking of his father and Draco and the love he had for them and all his friends, he squared his shoulders to meet his destiny full on. Fine, if this is what everyone wanted, this was what they would get.

Slowly he raised himself up from behind the stone, keeping his eyes on Voldemort and his wand, his own holly and phoenix feather wand pointed before him. Harry walked around to place himself squarely in line with the older wizard, ignoring the rest of the Death Eaters. And he ignored the near silent crack of Apparition off to the side, but Voldemort let his gaze shift and a smile came over his face as he refocused on Harry.

“This night shall end with Death, Harry. Yours – as it was written in the stars. Avada Kedavra!” His eyes shone with red delight as he pronounced the death sentence.

But Harry was already there with one of the first spells he’d ever learned to duel with, “Expelliarmus!”

Both of them gasped as the spells left their wands at the same time and met in mid-air, causing an arc of energy to vibrate between their two wands.

****

Severus and Moody arrived in the graveyard just in time to see Harry stand up and face Riddle. The Dark Lord saw them, but spared them only a glance – obviously delighted in the timing of their arrival just in time to see him kill Severus’ son.

They were as stunned as everyone else when the wands connected and a soaring tone of Phoenix song suffused the night, lifting the hearts of all who heard it. A barrier sprung up around the two, encasing them in a bubble of energy that pulsated with the colours of the rainbow as it lifted them in the air and carried them to an open field.

The Death Eater’s followed, silently shadowed by the ex-Auror and the Potion’s master. No one, other than Voldemort, had noticed their arrival and Voldemort was vain enough to think that it didn’t matter. He would bring Severus down simply by destroying Harry while the man was forced to watch, impotent to do anything to help.

As they all gathered around the spell circle to watch, the two wizards seemed to be having a stare-off as they each held onto their wands with both hands, eyeing a bead of light that sat where the two beams of spell-light met. The little bead was moving slowly towards Harry’s wand and Severus could see his boy mustering all his strength to push mentally at the light, turning it away from his end of the arc.

****

Voldemort growled in frustration as Harry pushed and pushed the light back towards Riddle’s side of the circle, screaming when the bead finally reached its destination – the end of his wand.

Suddenly, the end of the yew wand exploded with colour and light, and a wisp of smoke seemed to float from the end, getting bigger as it floated towards Harry, gaining consistency as it neared him. Harry nearly lost his concentration when he realised he was seeing an apparition that looked like an old man – the man from his dreams this past summer.

“Hold tight, boy – that man is evil. Killed me without a by-your-leave. You have the power in you, I can feel it!” He floated off to one side as a green light exploded with sparks from the end of the wand, Harry holding his determination to keep that bead where it was. Another vague ethereal form spoke to Harry, this time a middle-aged woman.

“I thought I was being taken to see my sister, but he only wanted information – information on when the tournament was happening and then he discovered out about Mr Crouch, my boss... when you get back, look for Barty Crouch... junior...  Hold tight, Harry...” And she drifted to the other side of the circle, across from the old man.

Another green spell residue erupted and then a form appeared that nearly had Harry dropping his wand, but he held on with both hands, grimacing in the exertion.

“Harry, darling,” Lily spoke. “You are so precious to me and your father. He is here now; hold fast for a little longer... and here is your little friend to help you...I love you, son.” Harry gulped in relief when he heard that Severus was present but he began to worry when he felt Silicia slither up his arm and down his back and leg. She’d been quiet during the whole tournament, letting him handle things on his own. But he couldn’t even spare her a glance; he had to hold his attention on the spell-beam. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her move through the un-mown grass, her passage silent.

A pulse from the bead, another green light show, and a fourth ghostly figure – this time James Potter.

“Harry; I was always proud to call you my son. You have done everyone proud. You just need to hold on a little longer. When we tell you, break the beam and go to your father. We will buy you enough time to escape...” He joined the other spectres now spinning along the inside of the dome, taunting Voldemort and moving ever closer and closer. Harry had tears streaming down his face from seeing his mom and step-dad, and the strain of holding this spell was taking its toll.

A thrashing sound came from his right and soon after his familiar was wending her way up his body again. “I shall tell you when we get back...” she promised him. The ghosts were twirling madly now and his mother’s shade suddenly cried out “Now, Harry, now!”

He tore his arms to the side, ripping the streams apart in a spectacular show of light and screams as the dome collapsed, the ghosts converging on Voldemort.

The Death Eaters were caught unawares, as Harry cried out his father’s name. He felt a yank as a spell dragged him off to the southwest edge of the area into his father’s waiting arms as Moody shot off spell after spell giving them time to duck down under the cover of a monument.

****

Severus looked on as the ghostly reminders of Voldemort’s victims began to show up inside the domed duelling sphere. Those on the outside could not hear what was being said as the shades whispered in Harry’s ear, but the boy seemed to gain strength every time one spoke to him.

And then his wife appeared.

Moody had thrown an arm in his path as he’d cried out her name, blocking him from storming into the circle – which surely would have meant his death. Those circles were meant to keep others out as well as keeping deadly spellwork confined within the circle itself.

“Get a hold of yourself!” The old man growled.

Lily spared a look for him, her smile gracing her face for one moment before she concentrated on their son. He didn’t even begrudge Potter a moment with Harry.

Then Silicia decided to head off on her own mission and Severus was seriously contemplating using her for potion’s ingredients when he realised what she was doing. Surprised, but grateful, he watched as she wove her way back to her master. She was back on her master’s arm quickly and Severus and Moody began to cautiously move forward.

When the barrier came down, Harry’s cry of “Dad!” galvanised him into action and he Accioed Harry into his arms, throwing both of them behind a huge stone marker before the Death Eaters realised what had happened.

“Thank Merlin you’re alright. Do you have your Portkey with you?” Severus asked as soon as he could let himself release the boy. Harry nodded.

“I gave you the duplicate I made. The original is still in my watch-pocket. I just could never reach it, and the one time I was able to, he still had the wards up...”

“Well, they are down now. That explosion of the dome took them all down. Use it now – we won’t be long behind you. And stay where you land! Don’t go anywhere!” Harry nodded again before reaching a finger into his tiny jeans’ pocket and, whispering “home”, was ported to safety.

Severus turned and fired off several curses, cutting through the battling ranks of remaining Death Eaters who’d been alerted to their presence when Harry had been spirited away, while the murdered ghosts still swarmed around Riddle.

“Damn it, they are like golems!” Moody complained, setting his back against his friend’s. “Where are the rest of my Aurors – what are they waiting for, an engraved invitation from the Minister of Magic?” They didn’t have any time to reach for, and activate, the remaining Portkey, which needed to touch both of them and no opportunities to Apparate, either. The spells were coming fast and heavy while Voldemort screamed his frustration. The wraiths could only last so long before dissipating on the wind. Eventually, they lost energy and drifted off – Lily floating towards Severus.

As she passed through him, he felt her whisper “I love you, Sev – take care of Harry...” He shuddered as the cold wind skelped him, then turned and fired off a slicing hex towards an anonymous Death Eater who’d sent one at Moody.

“Merlin, we need to get out of here! There are too many of them!” groused Mad-Eye. He spotted a large, ancient family Mausoleum and shot an Alohomora at the gate, releasing the lock. The gate creaked open on its rusty hinges, and Severus caught on to the plan – letting the remaining enemy herd them towards the massive structure.

Voldemort had joined the crowd, but from the rear, urging his followers on and shooting off his own spells periodically. Wormtail marched forward, new hand outstretched, a maniacal gleam in his eye as he spotted the quarry.

They had battled their way to the Mausoleum entrance, Severus opening the metal doors behind the wrought iron gate while Moody covered him. The Death Eaters, sensing a possible problem, redoubled their efforts to get the men before they disappeared behind protective stone. Belatedly, they finally heard distant pops as the relief troops arrived, but they were too little, too late. Just as Severus pushed open the huge metal doors, Moody’s body slammed into him from behind, propelling him through the opening. They landed in a huddle on the floor, but Severus quickly closed and locked the doors with a shouted “Colloportus!” before shoving the Auror off of him. A squelching sound, and orange flare around the edge of the double doors, signalled a successful casting of the spell.

In the dark, he couldn’t tell Mad-eye’s condition and he didn’t have time before the combined magics congregating on the other side of that door, broke through his spell. He could already hear a metallic hammering and could just imagine Peter’s metallic hand beating the door down. Holstering his wand he reached into his pocket and withdrew both earrings. Unable to determine which was which, he slapped both of them down on Moody’s chest, whispering “Home”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harry bounced a few times as the Portkey released him, landing on Draco’s bed; the impact making him winded for a moment. He lay there for a few minutes getting his equilibrium back, breathing deeply. His emotions were on a roller coaster and he felt on the verge of breaking out into sobs. Images kept flashing behind his eyelids: Voldemort rising from the cauldron, Pettigrew chopping off his own hand, scores of Death Eaters in black robes and silver masks, the duel, the ghosts of Voldemort’s victims speaking to him, his father and Professor Moody... As that thought flickered, his sobs broke out and he turned over to bury his face in his brother’s pillow; curling up on the silver and green duvet. He hoped they arrived soon and were safe.

The sound of someone moving around in the sitting room shut him up faster than a spell, and he was up and at the door, wand at the ready, dashing the tears from his eyes. He slowly eased the door open just far enough to peer through. What he saw confused him: Dumbledore was searching through the potions cabinet in the hallway. Harry opened the door further and stepped out, wand down at his side.

“Sir? Can I help you?” he asked politely, but with a confused tilt to his head.

The twinkle was absent, and instead a hardness had come to the headmaster’s voice; one that scared Harry as he took a step away from him as he spoke. “Harry, my boy... Erm, Madame Pomfrey ran out of some potions ... How did you get back here? I thought you were...”

“You thought what, Albus? That Harry was dead?” Severus stated from the doorway behind Harry. “Harry, step away from him...” he ordered, reaching out a beckoning hand towards his son.

“Dad? What?” Harry turned to look at Severus but squeaked indignantly as the Headmaster snaked an arm around him, drawing him up against his body. A mild bubbling sound caught Harry’s ear and he looked down horrified as the skin of his Professor’s arm began roiling and the man began grunting behind him, as if in the throes of a seizure. He couldn’t help it – it was the last straw in a day full of bizarre occurrences and his mind finally began to gibber: Harry screamed and began clawing at the arm that was changing right under his nose.

“Let him go!” Snape growled, wand held up and taking aim.

“No,” the man gasped, clutching Harry tighter while his skin and body changed. Harry had a wild look in his eyes as he tried to wrench himself away. “He’s my ticket out of here!” He began inching towards the door, but Severus threw a sealing spell at the oak door, causing it to blend into the wall, followed by another spell that bricked up the Floo, rendering it useless as well before returning to his original stance.

“You can’t go anywhere. Who are you?”

“Just wait thirty seconds, Snape, and we shall find out. Clever, hiding as the Headmaster...” wheezed Moody as he moved out of the shadows. “Two against one and nowhere to go... let the boy go, he can’t help you.”

Another spasm tore through the man and Harry finally managed to tear himself loose, running across the room to slip in behind his father, panting in fear.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked, not taking his eyes off of the Polyjuiced imposter, waiting for the transformation to end.

“I’m fine, now... you?” Harry asked, noting ripped and dirty robes and minor cuts on both men.

“We’ll live. Mad-eye here took one that knocked him out for a bit, but he’s like a cockroach – he’ll survive anything short of a nuclear strike,” he scoffed. Harry grinned at the reference, though Moody looked a trifle bit confused.

“Let’s see if we can get some answers, gentlemen.” He summoned one of Severus’ dining chairs, sending it to knock into the back of the faux Headmaster’s knees, causing him to abruptly sit down; Severus binding him quickly with an Incarcerus and summoning a bottle of Veritaserum from his lab. The transformation was almost finished, the long, grey hair disappearing only to be replaced with short, dark hair, and the lines in the face had smoothed out into the face of man in his late twenties, early thirties with eyes wild and darting, taking in everything around him, searching in vain for an exit. The three wizards stepped cautiously nearer, taking a closer look.

“Look familiar, Snape?” Moody asked.

Severus nodded and Harry gasped causing his father to glance at him sharply.

“Harry?”

“My dream last summer – he was in it, I just now remembered. He was there with Wormtail – but in the background, he didn’t say anything so I didn’t really notice him. Who is he?”

Snape returned his gaze to the wizard in front of him, Dumbledore’s robes hanging loosely on his wiry frame. “Barty Crouch, Junior. One of Voldemort’s most devoted zealots. But he was sent to Azkaban when Karkarof gave his name up as one of the Death Eater’s responsible for the torture of Longbottom’s parents. He was supposed to have died several years ago,” he said accusingly. “I think it’s time to get some answers.” He uncorked the tiny vial of powerful truth potion and poured the contents down their captive’s throat, causing him to sputter for a moment.

Barty began laughing crazily soon after, picking up the story where Snape had left off. “Yes, my poor mother took my place – she couldn’t bear seeing me in there and she was dying already, a wasting disease. The Dementor’s don’t care who is in their cells, you see, as long as there is someone there. We switched using Polyjuice. Then my father kept me at home under an Imperious to keep me pliant and quiet, our House-elf keeping watch.”

“Winky...” Harry guessed, remembering the cowering elf that Crouch had sacked at the Quidditch match.

“What happened?” Moody asked.

“One of my father’s secretaries came over to deliver some papers and he wasn’t home. She heard Winky talking to me in the kitchen and figured it out. Father came in and panicked, Obliviating her. And it held until last summer when she went to Albania to visit with her sister. Pettigrew discovered her and in the process of interrogating her, broke through father’s block and found me.” A maddening glee entered his eyes, lighting them up in his remembrance.

Mad-eye took up the tale. “So, they found you, released you, Imperiused your father and eventually killed him.”

“So Malfoy told me... Good riddance.” He spat on the floor.

“Where is Dumbledore?” Severus demanded. The only response he got was Crouch giggling. A gag quickly found its way around the cackling mouth. Apparently even Veritaserum had its limits when dealing with insane individuals.

“Useless,” Severus commented wryly. “And we’ve been under his direction all year! Why we didn’t spot him...” he mentally castigated himself for missing the switch.

“Albus was always a bit mad, what was a little more? We all just thought age was catching up with him,” Moody pointed out.

“Was he the one who put my name in the cup?” Harry asked, looking first at his father and then at Barty.

Raising an eyebrow, Snape removed the gag. “Well? Was it you?”

Barty had reached a chatty phase and the words spilled out, his tongue fairly tripping over itself in its eagerness to impart information. “Actually, no – that was Dumbledore himself. I didn’t switch places with him until November when I caught him in Hogsmeade. But it fit our plans perfectly, don’t you agree? Then Malfoy changed the spell on the cup when he placed it in the maze and he and I managed to keep the worst of the challenges in the maze away from Harry... even Imperiused Krum to take out the competition!” He began laughing again, the sound grating on their ears so, with a wave of his hand, Severus gagged him again.

“I’m going to go summon the Auror’s and Minerva, Severus. Then I’m going to go search Albus’ rooms. He had to keep Albus nearby as a source for the potion, I’m sure he’s up there.” His artificial eye swung upwards as if peering through the nearly ten storeys of hewn rock to the headmaster’s quarters. For all Harry knew, Moody really could see up there!

Severus nodded, releasing the spell on the door causing it to reappear. Moody left and in a few moments, Aurors were pouring through the door, taking over the custody of Barty. He gave them directions to a holding cell down a few corridors from his office and they floated the prisoner in front of them. As they left, Minerva rushed into the room followed by Draco and the other students who immediately went to check on Harry. Minerva spared her lion a check to make sure he was all right before focusing on Severus.

“Who was that and why was he wearing Albus’ robes?” she demanded, hat askew and arms crossed.

“Crouch, Junior. He’s been impersonating Albus using Polyjuice since November. I know, I’m already beating myself up about not noticing it,” he told her when she sputtered in indignation. “Moody has gone up to the Headmaster’s office to find out where he is. Minerva...” he pulled her off to the side so the children wouldn’t overhear him. “Voldemort is back in a full body. That’s what this was all about. He used an old obscure ritual that required Harry’s blood, forcibly taken, to restore him. They duelled – and Harry won! I still haven’t processed everything I saw...”

“Is anyone safe, now?” she asked, voice trembling with raw emotion; too many things had happened today and she was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

He looked at this venerable woman who had fought in many wars, Muggle and wizard, and had seen things over the years that would have curled any sane woman’s hair. That she was worried now was telling. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “Right now, I think that you should get Pomfrey and head up to Albus’ office. Before you leave, what have they done with Lucius’ body?” he whispered.

“They took it up to the Infirmary, into a private room. Two Aurors are guarding it,” she supplied before turning on her heel and leaving.

Severus surveyed his sitting room, overflowing with teenagers nattering away. Draco had managed to snag the seat next to Harry who was sitting quietly while the others were speculating amongst themselves. Making a decision, Severus clapped his hands together once, creating the loudest CRACK anyone had ever heard. Ron even put his hands over his ears. But it got their attention quickly, which was its intention.

“Anyone not related to me, leave now. There has been enough excitement for today and we still don’t have all the answers. I believe the House-elves are setting up dinner in the common rooms. Come along,” he said, herding the group towards the door. There were token protests, and all the girls insisted on giving Harry hugs, but he eventually was able to close the door and lock it. He strode over to the Floo and unblocked it, expecting to hear from Alastor momentarily.

While waiting, he summoned a tea tray from the kitchens, recognising that his boys probably did not have much of an appetite. While waiting for it to arrive he Accio-ed his healing kit and took a look at Harry’s arm. Harry had totally forgotten about the wound that Pettigrew had made with his knife, but his dad had noticed the raw looking wound and wanted it taken care of before it festered. He sluiced water and antiseptic over it, cleaning it gently. Harry winced as the green liquid entered the open cut, but he sat there stoically letting his father place a pad of gauze soaked with mertlap and dittany over it, then murmured a sticking charm over it so it wouldn’t come loose.

“I want you to see Madame Pomfrey to make sure there is nothing else wrong,” he said while repacking his healing bag. “We’ll have her check you out in a little while.”

Harry nodded as he dug into his pocket and withdrew the emerald stud, handing it to Draco. “I duplicated it and gave the duplicated one to dad. This saved my life, Draco,” he said sincerely. Then he frowned. “It was wrong to make me give it up, don’t ever let anyone do that again! Hide it if you have to,” he said forcibly. Draco nodded, looking at the tiny gold and emerald earring. Reverently, he reattached it in his earlobe. Severus walked over and touched the tip of his black wand to the ornament. A moment later the earring disappeared from view.

“Now no one will know it is there,” Snape stated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the two he’d had on him. Weighing each in a separate hand, he could feel the Portkey magic emanating from the one in his right hand and he handed that to Harry. “This one saved Professor Moody and me,” he said simply. Harry looked at it for a moment before curling his hand around it and throwing himself into his father’s arms.

“I almost lost you,” he murmured into the black robes. “I was so frightened... especially when we were duelling. I knew I couldn’t win against him, I was prepared to die at that moment...” He didn’t see Draco’s eyes getting bigger and bigger and his face draining of colour behind him. “And then our wands connected... I don’t understand why...”

“I may have the answer to that, Harry.” Albus stepped out of the Floo, his hair shorn short and his beard raggedy. He appeared to have lost quite a bit of weight and was leaning heavily on Alastor and Minerva as they guided him over to a Wing-backed chair. Severus released Harry to check on his employer, summoning several vials of potions that marched towards him in a line from his lab as if eager to do his bidding.

Harry took the moment to fasten his own earring back in and curled up on the sofa, knees drawn in tight to his chest. Draco sighed at his brother’s protective stance, but looked back towards the grouping of the adults.

“Yes, yes, Severus – I’m fine now, Poppy has checked me over thoroughly. Draco, could you pour me a cup of that fine tea, please? Thank you, my boy.” He accepted the cup and saucer, directing the blonde as to how many lumps of sugar to add.

“One never realises how satisfying a cup of tea is, how civilising it is, until you haven’t had it for seven months!” He took a sip, tipping his head back in sheer bliss. “Perfect!” he pronounced. He brought his head back down and levelled his gaze on Harry.

“Do you remember, Harry, what Olivander said to you when you bought your wand?”

Harry thought back to that first day in the Wizarding world and the strange little man in the wand store. Harry had been taken aback by the man’s declaration that the brother of Harry’s wand had given him his scar.

“He said that our wands shared the same core – a Phoenix feather from the same Phoenix.”

A bit of Dumbledore’s old twinkle came back to his eyes. “Correct! And can you guess which Phoenix gave those two feathers? The only two he has ever given, by the way. Very good, Draco,” he said in response to a whispered answer from the Ravenclaw. “Yes, it was Fawkes. Fascinating subject, wand-lore; in this instance, brother wands can not harm each other. When your wands connected, they essentially cancelled each other out. Tell me, did you see anything?”

Harry remembered the terrible duel and the ghosts of spells and people being regurgitated by Voldemort’s yew wand. He relayed that to his Headmaster.

“I’m sure if you had held that spell any longer you would have seen even more ghosts appear. Voldemort has done much evil with that wand since it chose him when he was eleven, and you had barely scratched the surface of the spell residue it contained. You were becoming the master of the wand, Harry. Oh, the process was not complete – you broke it off, wisely. But that is what was happening.” He took another sip of his tea before letting his eyes rest on the young boy once more.

“My mum told me to break it off; her and James...” Harry said quietly.

“A wise woman, your mother,” Albus commented. He took off his spectacles and used a bit of the cuff of his robe to wipe the lenses clean. Harry suspected the man was using it as a diversion, a means to bring his emotions under control. “I owe you and your father an apology, Harry,” he eventually said, perching the glasses back on his nose and looking over them at the nearly fifteen-year old Wizard.

“Sir?” Harry asked while his father grunted above him.

Albus glanced up at his formidable Professor of Potions. “Yes, an apology. My thought was only to test you and your abilities by placing your name in the Goblet. I needed to see if you were up to the challenge... it was arrogant of me,” he admitted.

“Arrogant?” Severus exploded. “It was unconscionable! I’ve told you time and again not to believe in Prophecy’s and you decide to test for yourself by placing my boy in mortal danger not once, but three times this term? Albus, I should bring you up on charges before the Governors!” he ranted. “You can’t continue to play God with children’s lives; it is not “For the Greater Good”.” He quoted his mentor’s favourite phrase that he loved to throw out at the members of the Order.

Dumbledore winced at the direct hit. “I am trying to apologise, Severus.”

“Not sincerely enough, Albus. I’m going to have to seriously reconsider whether or not to bring the boys back next term, much less return myself.” He glared down at the Headmaster who seemed to shrink on himself in the presence of such ire.

“What would you have me do, Severus? Harry is the key to everything...”

“He is a boy!” Minerva exploded, hanging back quietly until now. “I’m appalled at you, Albus. Deliberately putting his name in the cup, having him compete against Wizards who had three years experience on him? I don’t care how much extra training Severus has been giving him, that did not qualify him to compete against those older than him!”

“But he did survive, Minerva; he did duel against Voldemort and won! He has managed to perform brilliantly at every task set before him...”

“By sheer dumb luck, from how I hear tell of it!” She stopped as Severus raised a hand to quiet her.

“Did I just hear you correctly, Albus? What other tasks, besides the three this year, have you set Harry?” Snape’s eyes were like black beetles, waiting to burrow into Dumbledore.

“Oh, various and sundry things... Just little things, my boy,” Albus smiled, a beatific smile that usually assured Albus of cooperation by the people he bestowed it upon. In Severus’ case it never worked. He should have remembered.

“One of those wouldn’t happen to be a certain gauntlet of traps and puzzles leading to a Mirror that one young boy was already enamoured of, would it? Especially after giving this curious youngster an invisibility cloak?  Or perhaps sending said little boy into the forest for a detention? The Forbidden Forest? On a night when you knew something was attacking Unicorns and killing them for their blood. You knew what Hagrid and I thought it could be; we had warned you numerous times that week. I could name other instances over the last four years...” he halted and stared his mentor in the face. “You did, didn’t you; you’ve been deliberately placing him in situations all along to see how he would fare – see if he would be capable of fulfilling your ever-lauded prophecy. A prophecy made, may I remind you, by someone who has only foretold correctly once!” he shouted.

Dumbledore’s face lost all colour as Severus brought the accusations before him. He could feel Harry and Draco staring at him, horrified at the prospect their father painted. “It was a true telling...” he began but he was stopped by one small, terrified question.

“Did you know?” Harry whispered, his voice growing more pained as he continued. “Did you know what they were doing to me all those years?” he accused. No one needed to ask who he meant – everyone knew he meant his relatives; the ones he’d been placed with by Dumbledore all those years before.

“I – I suspected they wouldn’t love you straight off, but I thought your Aunt would learn to love you... She loved her sister so much, even wanted to come here like Lily and she was heartbroken when I told her she couldn’t attend, not being magic-born.” His rheumy eyes filled with liquid as he gazed at the son of that beloved student.

Severus snorted at that admission and the manipulation. “Jealous is what she was, not heartbroken. Absolutely green with jealousy,” he explained to the room at large.

“Did you know?” Harry repeated his question, more forcefully this time.

Albus looked down into his palsied hands, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know they would treat you with cruelty.”

Minerva pursed her lips as Harry turned away, huddling deep into the corner of the sofa again. “Now, Albus, you’ve apologised. Don’t make it any worse. Besides, you need to rest. We have Lucius’ funeral to plan for... and oh...” She slapped a hand across her mouth as she looked from Draco’s stunned face to Severus’. “I’m sorry, I thought he knew by now...” She bustled Albus up, with Moody’s help and, with another apologetic look at the little family, Flooed him back up to the Tower.

Severus went over to sit on the coffee-table before his son.

“He’s really dead?” Draco whispered.

“Yes, son. I duelled him before I could leave to rescue Harry and he lost,” he said quietly. He placed a hand on Draco’s knee, offering him comfort. Despite all that Lucius had done to Draco over the years, he was still Draco’s sire and he knew that the boy still harboured feelings for him. “He was the one who changed the Portkey spell on the trophy so that it delivered Harry to where Voldemort was waiting.”

A cold fire burned in Draco’s eyes as he looked up at Severus. “Then I’m glad he died. He betrayed all of us.” He choked back some sobs and Harry leaned up against him, snaking an arm around his brother and resting his head on the boy’s shoulder. “Does Mother know?”

“Not yet, I’ll send her an owl in a bit. It should get there in the morning.” He turned to Harry who was unwinding Silicia from his arm, hissing quietly at her. “I hope you know what she did for you – I could see it from my vantage point.”

Harry shook his head and Draco curiously looked over at the half-grown Cobra who was curling up in front of the fire. “Mum warned me about her protecting me, but I couldn’t see what she was doing. And then there wasn’t any time for her to tell me,” he explained.

“Your mum?” Draco asked incredulously. “But she’s...”

“Dead, yeah, I know. During the duel our wands connected and these – ghosts – came out of the end of his wand when my spell overpowered his. That’s what we were talking about.  It was all the people he had killed with that wand. The last two to come out were Lily and James. And they spoke to me...” Quiet for a moment as he reflected on the messages imparted to him he turned back to his father. “What did Silicia do?”

“The Dark Lord’s pet snake, a huge Python, was inside the spell circle and making its way to you. Silicia fought her off, stunning her with a bite. Nagini is too big for Silicia to kill, but she did a lot of damage, protecting you,” Severus pointed out.

Harry smiled over at his snake, who rose up a bit to weave at him before settling back down on the warm hearth.

“Seems I owe my survival to a lot of people,” Harry said. “I don’t know how I can thank them all...”

“Stay alive, son.” Harry looked up at father, surprised. “I’m serious. As long as you stay alive, and don’t let the bastards in this world take you down, that is the best thanks you can give.”

“I’ll try,” Harry said, simply.

“That’s all we can ask.” He walked over to his desk to pen a quick missive to Narcissa. “When I get done, I’m going to drop you off at the infirmary to have Poppy give you a thorough looking over while I post this letter. Draco, your father is up there if you wish to take your leave of him,” he kindly offered.

Draco was of two minds. On the one hand, he wanted to go and spit on the corpse, and on the other he wanted nothing to do with the body. It was dead, out of his life. He knew he would most likely have to attend the funeral that his mother would have to set up; despite being disowned, he was still a Malfoy by blood and the proper forms must be observed. He’d had that drilled into him for far too long not to obey.

“I’ll stay here, Dad. I’ll see him at the funeral,” he firmly decided.

“Very well.” Blotting the ink, he folded the announcement and sealed it with wax, setting his own Prince emblem into the cooling circle with his signet ring. It automatically set a magical trace into the seal which would verify to Narcissa that this was a true sending from him. “We should be back within the hour.” He watched as Onyx, Draco’s fully grown cat, sauntered in and hopped up into his master’s lap, settling in like the spoiled pet that he was. Draco obliged with a scratch between the ears, moving to under the chin – the cat closing his eyes and purring his contentment.

Harry reluctantly rose from the sofa and joined his father at the door. “Erm, can you hide my earring...” He motioned to the emerald now glinting in his ear, back where it belonged.

“Of course,” Severus agreed and matched word with deed, tapping his wand lightly on the Portkey, rendering it invisible to the naked eye. Moody’s magical one would detect it in a second. “And you might want this back, as well. It is a fine bit of transfiguration work – wandless at that!” He handed Harry the fake earring.

“Thanks. I think I know exactly what I’ll do with it.” Pointing his own wand at the little gold stud, Harry fashioned a clasp that it hung from. “For Pansy’s bracelet,” he explained. “To commemorate surviving the task.”

He pocketed the gift and followed his father through the door, off to face the female dragon of the infirmary.

 

 

 

 

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Severus led Harry up through the castle to the Infirmary using the back ways from the Dungeons that very few knew about. It was so convoluted that Harry could never hope to memorize the route, which he suspected was the idea. It also had the added benefit of getting Harry into Poppy’s hands without anyone else being any wiser. The main corridors were awash in students, Aurors, tournament officials and sundry Alumni.

Severus opened the hidden panel door next to the Matron’s office and ushered his son inside. Harry noted several Aurors posted outside of a closed door and Poppy was fussing over several beds. A closer look showed the occupants to be his fellow Champions and he broke free from his father’s grasp on his good arm and hurried over to them. Cedric spotted him first and leapt from his bed to embrace the younger boy, ruffling the long hair that had escaped all previous attempts at bondage.

“You’re alright! I thought for sure you were dead! How’d you get free?” Cedric asked, allowing the Matron to push him back down on the hospital cot, tutting over him, while Severus did the same with Harry.

“It wasn’t easy, Ced, but Dad and Professor Moody saved me.”  It hurt to remember the events of the past few hours, but he had to warn someone. “Listen; Voldemort is back – that is who tried to kill you. I – I can’t talk about what happened – it was pretty gruesome, and I am glad you got away safe, but you have to be ready; you need to prepare...”

“Prepare for what, my boy?” A short, officious man came around the corner, a green bowler in his hand. “You don’t honestly expect us to believe you saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, do you? He’s been gone all these years, dead at your own hand! Surely you’re mistaken, must be addled from the strains of the competition.” His false smile did not reach his eyes and if he had been a Muggle, Harry would have nailed him as a used cars salesman – or a politician; like the ones his uncle liked to bash every evening on the telly.

“And you are?” Harry asked in a deadly tone. Severus had turned around at hearing the voice and stood hovering near his son, hands clasped in front of him.

“Harry, let me introduce the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge,” Severus offered as explanation.

“Were you there, sir?” Harry asked pointedly after acknowledging his father’s introduction with a nod.

Fudge was taken aback. “Me? Of... of c-c-course not! How dare you insinuate...” he sputtered, darting his eyes around to see if anyone heard the question.

“Then you can not state that Voldemort is not back, can you? I was there, Minister.” Ignoring everyone’s flinch when he said the name, he thrust his wounded arm under the man’s nose, the slice weeping blood again as his father had just removed the cotton gauze. Fudge cringed back, holding his hat like a shield. “Pettigrew cut me to use my blood to bring Him back in some bizarre ritual. I fought him in a duel, and managed to survive by the skin of my teeth. My father and Professor Moody fought against him and his Death Eaters. Do you think they are mistaken?” He waved his hand to include the teachers and Aurors; authority figures known for their integrity.

“Pettigrew is dead... they only found a finger...” Fudge stammered, the lackeys who had followed him in nodding their heads like dashboard dogs.

“We’ve been trying to tell you for over a year he’s alive and always has been. What about an unregistered Animagus form do you not understand?” Severus pointed out.

“He can’t be back!” Fudge insisted. “I won’t have it!” He sounded like a petulant child to Harry, who’d had lots of experience with his cousin throwing such tantrums. In fact, he was an expert in the art of conniption fits.

“Then you’ll have Chaos, Cornelius,” came a third voice as Dumbledore tottered in, using a cane to help him stay upright. “I came down to see how everyone was doing and I find you questioning my student’s veracity. Why don’t you question the young man who was impersonating me? He will tell you the same thing as he was doing it all on Voldemort’s orders.” He leaned both hands on the cane as he stood there, smiling sweetly at the Minister.

“Him? I have already sent the Azkaban guards to take him away. His sentence has already been carried out,” the man said huffily.

“Carried out?” Albus asked; his voice calm but without the undertones of the kind, gentle Headmaster.

“He was to be kissed whenever we found him – can’t have people escaping whenever they feel like it. He was an escaped convict.” His voice rose in volume as he swept the room with his gaze – apparently he was trying to politic in a hospital ward.

“Of course it doesn’t matter that you didn’t know he was escaped until an hour ago...” Severus commented dryly.

“That’s beside the point!” Fudge spat at him.

“No, Cornelius, the point is you have had a man kissed before he could be questioned under Veritaserum as to what else he knew. I’ve warned you many times, Minister; Voldemort was just biding his time. He is back now – and you are facing the most momentous decision of your career. Will you join with me and defeat him once and for all, or will you hide in your hole like a garden gnome?”

Fudge stared at the old man before clapping his hat back on his head. He reached into his cloak pocket and withdrew a large mokeskin bag that looked like it weighed more than it could possibly hold. He tossed it onto the nightstand between Harry and Cedric’s beds. It made a very satisfying thump as it landed.  “Your winnings,” he pronounced before he brushed past Dumbledore and swept out of the Infirmary.

Harry and Cedric both stared at the bag full of galleons.

“I don’t want it,” they both said at the same time. They looked at each other and then both cracked up laughing. Severus and Poppy tsked at them as they began checking the boys over. Cedric seemed to pass with flying colours, only banged up a bit when he’d landed on top of the trophy/Portkey. A touch of the wand and a potion to mend bruises, and he was sent on his way. He said goodbye quickly to the other contenders and allowed his father to lead him down to the Hufflepuff dorms for their party.

Fleur and Krum were tucked into the beds – they were spending the night as a precautionary measure. Krum was free from the Imperious, but it still did not make him any less a git – and Fleur had been hurt pretty badly when Krum’s spell had tossed her through the shrubs.

Madame Pomfrey was now examining the wound that Pettigrew’s knife had made, waving her wand over it and muttering spells while Severus stood nearby. Harry watched as she bound it up again, using the same technique his father had, while praising him.

“Very well done, Severus. But you were always my favourite student,” she said, smiling up at him. “Well, young Snape, you were exceedingly lucky. Managed to miss some major veins. You say Peter Pettigrew did this?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Such a waste of talent. Ah well, you are free to go. Don’t forget your bag there,” she said, pointing at the leather bag on the table.

Harry looked up at his father. “I really don’t want it – I don’t feel like I deserve it. Nobody won – it was all a cheat. Isn’t there some charity that could use it?” he whispered.

“Possibly. Do you want me to keep it safe until we find a worthy recipient?” His father offered. Harry nodded quickly and Severus snuck the bag into a pocket just as Dumbledore returned from visiting with Fleur, Krum and their families.

“Harry...” he began, but Harry cut him off as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

“If you don’t mind, sir, I think you have said enough for today. I’m sorry you were kept captive all year – but right now I am too angry with you to talk nicely to you and if there is one thing my Aunt pounded into my head it was “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.””He paused and grimaced to himself before continuing. “Of course, she never practiced what she preached.” He looked at the aged Headmaster. “Now, if you’ll excuse me – I have a brother to comfort. You see, his sire passed away today.” He pushed past Dumbledore and Severus followed a moment later after levelling his ‘you have been a complete dunderhead and I doubt if you are qualified to even hold a wand let alone a stirring stick’ glare at his employer. It always worked on his students and it apparently worked on Headmaster’s as well because Albus’ shoulders slumped in defeat as he sat down hard on Harry’s vacated bed.

****

Severus saw Harry off to the Dungeons before he went on to post his letter to Narcissa. He was quite aware that with Lucius’ death she was no longer in any danger – at least from Lucius. She could return from France. He let himself daydream a little as his feet led him unerringly up the tower to the Owlery. It would be so nice to complete his little family and add a woman’s touch to the mix. The daydream allowed him to escape the low-level burning on his left forearm. It had been burning for several hours now, the mark raw and sensitive. He needed to find some way to nullify it.

He’d thought of cutting it off – but that was a temporary, if drastic, solution. This mark was magically embossed on his arm. As his skin grew back, so would the mark and it was more painful to cut it off than endure its throbbing pain. Of course, he tended to use it as a reminder of what he had done all those years ago that had forced him to lose his wife and unborn child. Every time he glanced at it, or felt it burn, he did a little penance in his soul. Perhaps a numbing cream... something he and the boys could research over the summer.

The early summer evening was pleasant and bore no hint of the events now in play. He stood at the top of the stairs, gazing out over the shadowed grounds, letting the night breeze ruffle through his hair and robes, billowing them gently. He watched a Thestral mount to the sky, silhouetted by the partially formed moon for a moment.

A familiar weight landed on his shoulder and he reached up to run a finger along the chest feathers of his black owl. “I have a message for you, my friend. Are you up to flying to France tonight? It is imperative you get there quickly.”

The owl hopped down to the casement and held out a leg imperiously, staring at his master as if to say ‘Well, get on with it!’ Severus chuckled and tied the letter on with a bit of string lying nearby and offered an owl treat in payment. The bird ate its treat and flew off, blending quickly into the night sky. For better or for worse, Narcissa would know by morning.

****

Harry practiced his stealth walking, cloaking himself in shadows and keeping hyper-aware of his surroundings as he descended into the Dungeon realms of his Father’s lair. A bone chilling cold remained from the Dementors that had recently departed, taking Barty Crouch’s soul with them. He shivered at the thought of those creatures and nearly created a Patronus to ward off the foul impression they left behind. He decided to Occlude instead, raising his inner shields – it seemed to help a little bit and he continued on, slipping from shadow to shadow as he travelled to his family apartment. He managed to avoid most groups of wandering students, and the rest took no notice of him as his charms kept them from looking his way. He sent a silent thank you to his instructors this year for training him relentlessly in these techniques.

He finally approached the corridor that housed the entrance to the Snape rooms and was surprised to find Pansy leaning against the wall across from the door. He noted that she was still dressed in her casual clothes, and looked quite good in the tailored trousers and matching short jacket over a cream turtleneck. Her short brunette hair was tucked behind her ears and her teeth were worrying at her lower lip as her arms hugged herself.

Seeing that no one was around, Harry deliberately removed the charms and moved out of the shadows, whispering her name.

Pansy whipped around and with a short cry of his name, flung her arms around his shoulders hugging him tightly.

“Oh, Merlin, you’re alright! I was so worried when you disappeared, and then Diggory returned and your father took off... what the hell happened? Where were you?” She pulled away and held him at arms length, raking her eyes over him. “You’re all banged up... and what happened to your arm... Harry? Please answer me, you’re scaring me...”

“Pansy...” He wanted to talk to her, but not out where busy little ears could overhear. “C’mon in,” he offered. The Guardian portrait for the apartment was a fussy old Slytherin, painted in the previous century and set in his ways.

“Professor Altair,” Harry began, garnering the old man’s attention.

“Ah, Potter-Snape. Back so soon? Ah, and a young lady friend... What will your father say? I don’t think it is proper that she should enter without an adult present!”

“Professor, it is quite alright and we are just going to be talking. Salazar can chaperone,” he suggested. “Now, Dragon’s Liver, please!” he whispered into the old painting’s ear.

The Wizard huffed, but reluctantly unlatched the oak door and Harry ushered Pansy into the sitting room.

Draco wasn’t visible, but Harry could hear the water running in their shared room so, after seating her on the settee, he hurried down the corridor to shut their door all the way and grabbed two bottles of Bottle Beer from the kitchenette on his way back. Handing one to her, he sat down at the other end of the sofa.

“Pansy, there is no easy way to say this and I have to ask you a question first. Where do you stand on Voldemort?”

She flinched at the name, but he kept his eyes steady on her. “He-who-must-not-be-named? Our family is neutral – but me personally? The thought of him scares me to death, but you defeated him years ago, why are you asking me this now?”

“Because... he is back.”

“Back, as in back-back? As in...”

“As in he has a body and is ready to wreck havoc again. That is what happened tonight. This entire tournament was used as a setup to get me to where I could be kidnapped and used to bring him back in some ritual. I wasn’t supposed to survive, Pansy. I was supposed to die at his wand point – but something happened... I’m still not sure I understand it all... but I managed to survive and then Dad and Professor Moody arrived and my Portkey finally worked... Anyway, it is a long story. But He is back now and I know a lot of Slytherins...”

“A lot of families were supporters – some still are,” she explained. “But the majority don’t – or at least the kids don’t. We lost a lot of family members on both sides during the last war and really don’t want to see that happen again. So, what happened to your arm?”

Harry gazed down at the gauze pad and placed a hand over it. “My blood was used in the ritual.”

“A blood ritual? That’s very bad, Harry – those are very potent!” She slapped her forehead. “Of course you know that! How could I be so stupid!”

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking just like his father and Pansy laughed at herself, eliciting a smile from her friend. Leaning forward to put his bottle down on the table, he felt something jab him in the hips and he abruptly remembered the charm.

“Oh, before I forget – I promised you one for each task,” he fished the tiny emerald out of his pocket.

“It’s not real – I transfigured it to look like one of my earrings – part of the long story – but it really helped and I’d like you to have it.” He handed it over to her, watching as she carefully placed it on a link opposite of the lightning bolt.

“It’s lovely, Harry, thank you. So, who was doing all this?”

Harry slowly told her about how Barty Crouch had used Polyjuice to imitate the Headmaster and how he had teamed up with Malfoy to set Harry up in the last task. Pansy listened, her drink forgotten, eyes wide in incredulity as she drank in his tale.

“But I don’t understand – who put your name in the cup in the first place? You’ve always said you didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t,” Harry said patiently, but his eyes hardened as he thought about the answer. “Professor Dumbledore put it in.”

“What?” She abruptly stood up, anger thundering in her voice, and began pacing. “I don’t understand...”

“He was testing me, Pansy – please sit down,” he pleaded, coaxing her to return to her seat. With a huff, she returned to her seat, taking a large sip from her Butterbeer. “Look, I don’t understand all the ramifications or machinations that all of this means. Dad is better at this...” He ran his hands frustratingly through his hair. Merlin, he needed to get cleaned up! “But I feel like my whole life has been some sort of manipulation by Dumbledore right now. Like, he’s been training me up for this big final confrontation with Voldemort. Everything he’s told me has been a lie... I’m so confused.” He looked down at the floor and didn’t react as she shifted closer to him on the sofa. He did look over at her though when she put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. He gave her a tiny smile and sighed.

“I’m one messed up kid,” he commented wryly and she had the decency to laugh. His eyes perked up as he listened to her laughter cascading in the room and felt buoyed enough to join in.

“What’s so funny?” Draco asked as he came into the room, damp hair slicked back, his paleness accentuated by the unrelieved black of his outfit. His eyes had a haunted look to them and Harry knew his brother had been grieving under the water. Draco eyed the bottles and accioed his own from the kitchen area, taking a seat nearby.

“Just reflecting over my spectacular, messed up, complicated life,” Harry stated, raising his bottle in a mock toast to himself and taking a swig.

“Oh, I’ll agree to that,” smirked Draco and he raised his bottle as well in salute before taking a long drink.

Pansy glanced at the clock on the mantel and realised it was nearing curfew. She rose up and Harry followed her to the door.

“Thank you for coming by,” he said quietly.

“And thank you for the charm,” she said, fingering the bracelet on her wrist. “I better get going. See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll try. Can’t promise anything...”

“I understand.” She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on his cheek, smiling when he blushed. She waved a bit to Draco, who saluted her with his beer, and skipped out through the door. He closed it slowly behind her, a bit bemused, looking up when he heard his brother chortling.

“Shut it!” Harry said, but without any fire to his voice, blushing even further which just sent Draco into further gales of laughter. Pretty soon Harry had sent a pillow into his brother’s face, effectively shutting him up – but only for a moment before an all out pillow fight ensued that travelled through the apartment and landed in their bedroom where the ammunition was softer, and more plentiful. After a twin pair of thumps in their abdomens tossed them onto the beds, they called pax and lay there, periodically giggling like loons and catching their breath.

Harry wiped a hand across his face and grimaced at the feel of dried sweat and dirt that felt as if it had been ground into his pores. “I’m going to take a shower, you alright?” he asked, looking over at his brother who had slowly retreated behind his mask again.

“No, but I’ll survive. I... I don’t know what to do, Harry.” He hated to admit that weakness – he was the man now; it was up to him to protect his mother and sister. But, he wasn’t even fifteen yet. How was he supposed to do this? He hastily swiped at the moisture that threatened to spill over from his eyes, and he snuffled a bit.

“Come sit on the commode and keep me company – I don’t fancy being alone with my thoughts right now,” Harry offered. “But I feel like my last shower was weeks ago, instead of just this morning – I need to get clean, get rid of His taint...” He offered a hand to Draco, who accepted it after a moment’s hesitation and followed him into their shared bath.

Harry turned on the taps and the steam began to fill the compartment as he hastily stripped behind the shower curtain and tossed his befouled garments over the curtain rod to his brother.

Draco protested as the drift of dirty clothes fell on him. “Git! What do you want me to do with these!” He hastily shoved them off of him and kicked them away, running a quick cleaning charm over his own tailoring.

“You can burn them for all I care! If I could, I’d have dad Obliviate the entire year from my mind!” Harry called out, his words muffled oddly by the cascade of water over his face.

“Don’t blame you!” Draco muttered and, after glancing at the curtain, pointed his wand at the entire pile and muttered an Incendio. The smell of burning fabric soon filled the room and Harry stuck his soap covered head around the edge of the shower curtain and stared unbelieving at the mess of smouldering ash now occupying the centre of the loo.

“Those were my favourite jeans!” he whined. “I didn’t think you’d take me seriously!”

The bathroom door slammed open to reveal a cross Severus who eyed his two sons. Harry gulped and slid back under the water, snapping the curtain shut.

“Draco, why does it smell like burnt dragon piss in here?” Severus asked.

“Harry said I could burn them...”

“Burn what, pray tell?”

“His last task clothes?” Draco offered half-heartedly.

Severus stared at him for several long moments. “Vanish that mess,” was all he said as he turned around and shut the door behind him. Harry stuck his head back around the edge of the fabric and the boys shared a look.

“He didn’t yell,” Harry pointed out.

“I know,” Draco agreed.

“Bad sign,” they both agreed.

 

 

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Slowly coming to a stop, the Thestral drawn carriage pulled up to the front doors of the castle. The occupant, shrouded in black, stared at the imposing oaken doors for a moment, while the skeletal beasts huffed to themselves in the cool evening air, little white puffs of air betraying their presence.

The owl had arrived quite late with its tidings; but she had left her sanctuary swiftly – pausing only to pack the essentials for the next few days which now lay in the black leather trunk, the corners protected with shiny brass covers that gleamed in the moonlight, seated on the floor of the carriage. She was not entirely sure of her feelings on the matters that had been imparted to her in the letter, but she knew her duty and it required that she be here to see it through to the end.

Gathering a bundle close to her chest, the passenger descended from the carriage and, collecting an edge of the skirts in one hand, ascended the stone steps worn smooth and into little dips by the passing of hundreds of children’s feet. The moonlight shone above, lighting her way, but she took her time nevertheless. In a way, coming back here felt like coming home. The place she had just left had been a necessary sanctuary, the one before that – a gilded cage where she was expected to be the pretty bird on display when called upon. Seven years in this castle, during her most formative years, had been her favourite time of her young life and she always entered the stone facade with a grateful heart, feeling the magic of the castle wrap around her and welcome her, as it always did.

A small inner door opened upon her approach and another figure swathed in black stepped forward, only partially distancing itself from the shadows.

“Let me take her, Narcissa,” Severus offered, relieving the widow of the sleeping toddler.

“She fell asleep on the carriage ride from the village,” she explained quietly as the baby’s godfather shifted her to a more comfortable position, tucked under his chin. Miraculously, she only snuffled a little in her sleep, thumb firmly in place and never woke, accepting her godfather’s touch as soothing.

“Let me take you to your rooms. They are just this way,” he motioned towards the stairway and then led the way up to the second floor where guest quarters were located, her small portmanteau floating behind them. They travelled along an out of the way hallway, guarded by two imposing suits of armour, complete with iron mace and two-handed sword. Portraits snored in their frames as they passed by until they came to a full length portrait of a stargazing lady. Her eyes were glued to the telescope mounted on the stone ledge in front of her, papers with calculations and star charts scattered on a low camp table beside her. A flickering flame cast its light only on the papers, a shade blocking its glare from reaching the astronomer.

Severus cleared his throat to get her attention, and she startled, nearly overturning the table.

“Oh, I’m so sorry – the planets were dancing so delightfully tonight, I quite lost myself in their steps,” she apologised.

“No harm, Lucretia,” Severus murmured. “Narcissa, may I introduce your guardian portrait, Caroline Lucretia Hershel – who prefers, these days, to go by Lucretia. Lucretia, your boarder: Narcissa Black Malfoy.”

“They named a comet after me, you know,” the lively woman confided, bustles of lace bobbing up and down on her flouncy nineteenth Century dress. Narcissa smiled at her and murmured a “Hullo” to the portrait.

“Doxies, Lucretia,” Severus announced, giving the password and Lucretia curtsied to them as the portrait swung open. Narcissa drifted through the doorway and the sconces on the walls flared into life revealing a comfortable sitting room that had leaded French doors leading out to a deep porch that overlooked the grounds towards the Black Lake. A door off to the left led into the sleeping chamber replete with a modest queen-sized four poster bed piled high with a down comforter and thick bed curtains held back with tasselled silk tiebacks. A baby cot stood in one corner and Severus went over to it to lay his godchild down for the rest of the night. She sighed contentedly as she snuggled into her favourite blanket, thumb still ensconced in mouth.

Setting a monitoring charm on her, he led her mother out to the sitting room where a tea service was waiting, fragrant steam rising from the tea pot. Narcissa sat primly on the thick upholstered chair set before the small table and let Severus serve her before he took his own seat across from her.

“This certainly was not the way I meant to see you next,” he began.

“No, I suppose not. Unfortunately, it is a necessity and I must play the dutiful widow. However, I refuse to grieve. It was never a love match and after all he has done, I can truly say good riddance. He did give me beautiful children, though. How is Draco?”

“Attempting to be stoic. I think the fact that he may once again be the Malfoy heir is weighing most heavily on his mind.”

She made a little moue with her lips as she thought over the implied question. “That will be something that the lawyers will have to deal with. I have no idea what Lucius had done with that – even if that cow he was with this weekend is enceinte, he hadn’t married her and Draco – as the true born son – would be the rightful heir, disowned or not. That would be the normal set of events. But we all know Lucius was devious – and he was incredibly spiteful at the time towards you and your budding family, which he looked upon as poaching in his territory – so I have no idea what he has waiting in the wings for us to trip over.” She sighed quietly, letting the tea soak its warmth into limbs that felt weighed down by burdens.

“Do you think the manor is closed to you? Have you tried to get in?” he asked. “You could never divorce, so you should be able to access it,” he pointed out.

She nodded. “I made sure of that as soon as I got your owl. The wards are still mine to command,” she assured her friend. “However, it is easier to have the services here. He truly did love this school – and, I admit, the power it afforded him to be on the Board of Governors didn’t hurt either. It would be too much trouble for me to adjust the wards to let in the number of people who would want to attend his services at the family vault. Here, the board members can pay their respects and we can have his services quietly and then move him.” She nibbled on a wafer, brushing away the crumbs from her skirt quickly.

“I’ve already notified the Vicar here in Hogsmeade that we will require his services tomorrow.” Severus nodded – she seemed to be handling everything admirably.

They sipped in silence for a moment before she looked up at him, concern in her face.

“And how is Harry? I read the reports before I took off – how horrendous for him! Of course Fudge is denying everything – but some of the Aurors who went with Mad-eye gave their stories to Lovegood who is printing everything in his rag.” She shook her head and chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day where that ridiculous magazine would actually get it right – but I had a bit of a time trying to get hold of a copy; it’s flying off the newsstands!”

“He’s pretty traumatised, as you can imagine, and Albus has gained the number two spot on Harry’s shite list – right behind the Dark Lord.”

She raised a finely shaped eyebrow at this. “How in heaven’s name did that happen? By all reports, Albus wasn’t even present most of the year – being locked up in a seven-layer trunk in his own bedroom.”

Severus settled back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other as he cradled his saucer and cup on his lower abdomen. “Ah, but he was there in the beginning – and was the one who placed Harry’s name in the cup to begin with; then we discovered last night that he has been manipulating Harry, placing obstacles and “opportunities” in his way for the last four years in order to test him.” He snorted.

“Testing him? For what? That ridiculous prophecy from all those years ago? Really, Dumbledore is going too far! I’ve heard everything that has gone on since Harry has entered the school; all of it was to test his readiness? How absurd!” she scoffed.

“Most of it, as far as we can tell, yes. Lucius was responsible primarily for letting the basilisk out – even if he never knew what he was truly loosing on the school, but Dumbledore used the situation to his advantage.” He set his saucer and cup down on the table, leaning forward on his forearms. “I don’t know if we can return next year, Cissy. I don’t trust Albus anymore; I warned him three years ago that if I found out he had interfered with my son I would pull the whole family out faster than he could say Quidditch. After this revelation I feel like I must follow through – unless something drastically changes in the running of this school.”

She reached out a hand and laid it against his cheek, her thumb stroking his temple, before letting it fall and rest against his arm. “I understand, Sev. Why don’t you let the idea percolate for a few weeks before making a decision? Let’s get through with burying Lucius, get the boys back to the Manor and away from here – relax before you decide.”

He gazed into her pale blue eyes. Some people would say they glittered like ice crystals; and when she directed her glare on them, those crystals could cause your heart to freeze in fear. But for him they held warmth, a promise of good things to come, and love. “I promise, as long as you and Calista join us,” he insisted.  “We can be a family, Cissy – a proper family.” He laid his own hand over hers and she rewarded him with a brilliant smile and a blush that put colour back in her face; something that had been missing until now.

“If you’re sure...” she demurred.

“If I could coerce you to stay forever, I would. I know it is probably not the right time to speak of this, but...” He held her gaze, leaning in for a tender kiss. “I love you, Cissy – I know you understand that, and I want to marry you as soon as it is proper to do so – sooner if it wouldn’t make you the talk of the society pages,” he smirked.

“Is that a proposal, Severus Snape?”

“Do you take it as such? I was pretty much just letting you know my intentions – but if you want to take it as...” He had to stop as his mouth was soon busy kissing her back, and his hands were occupied with keeping her tucked into his lap. And mixed in with her kisses were breathless little exhortations of “Yes, yes, yes...”

****

Draco, Harry and Hermione stood near the entrance to the small chapel tucked away off the side of the Great Hall. Built during a time when religious observation was much more prevalent amongst Wizard Society, it rarely was in use now. Today, most of the rows were filled with members of the board of Governors, their families and various other officials and dignitaries. Albus had even descended from his seventh floor office to attend the service – glad-handing his way through the group, taking their wishes for his continued good health.

Dedicated to a long-forgotten saint, it was a small room with a triptych of stained glass windows dominating the far wall featuring the adoration of the Magi – their gifts floating in mid-air towards the infant.  As they were taught in History of Magic, the students knew that the Wise Men were actually Wizards in their own lands. Sconces on the walls and standing candlesticks burned brightly, lending a soft glow to the area. Soft murmurs from the mourners swooshed through the air, almost sounding like sea surf on sand.

In front of the altar rail, on an ornate raised bier, lay Lucius Malfoy’s body. Preserving spells had been set upon him and he appeared to only be asleep. His hands were clasped across his chest, his wand under them. Dressed in exquisite black robes, his white hair shone as a beacon in the dusky chapel. Any wounds that had occurred during the duel were hidden away. A casual observer would never be able to tell how he’d come to his end. The witch he’d been escorting the day of his death was seated in a back corner, daintily dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Draco had seethed when he saw her, his brother having to forcibly restrain him and Hermione deftly relieving him of his wand before he let loose with a hex. They had hustled him out of the chamber, letting him cool off in the corridor while waiting for his mother and sister to arrive.

A tapestry funeral blanket covered the lower part of Lucius’ body, depicting the Malfoy family arms and motto - Planto Nex non Bellum. Draco had explained, when Hermione had commented on the workmanship, that the covering had been in their family for many generations and always was used to cover the bodies during funeral services.

Hermione and Harry had accompanied Draco earlier in the day to the chapel after the House-elves had prepared Lucius for services and burial. They had sat quietly behind him on the hard wooden benches as he stood respectfully near the bier, gazing upon his sire. Many emotions had crossed through him these last few hours – he hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night – and Hermione had explained the stages of grieving to him, something she had gotten from some Muggle book. He wasn’t quite sure if he was in Anger or Acceptance – probably a little of both with Depression thrown in. He hadn’t even thought of Bargaining, and Denial had lasted about a whole minute before relief had settled in. But he was definitely angry; angry that he’d been left with such a mess, angry that his sire had chosen to follow the megalomaniac in the first place – angry that he’d forced Dad to kill him. But he also knew that there was nothing he could do, now. What’s done, was done.

Draco was quite grateful for his girlfriend who had checked in on him numerous times over the last few days, always there when he needed her the most, letting him weep and rail at her about anything and everything – the perfect sounding board. It had been during one of these rants when she had told him about the stages of grief and they had discussed his feelings.

One of the things he had been most angry about was how his brother had been forced into this competition, and had been manipulated by the headmaster for years. Harry had enough on his plate, he didn’t need this type of manoeuvring behind his back – placing him in dangerous situations without his say, making him think they had been random events when in truth, much of it had been calculated to test his worthiness for the title of “Saviour of the Wizarding World”. He was a teenager, for Merlin’s sake, not some Muggle Messiah!

Standing in the corridor, he’d managed to use his meditation techniques and had calmed down enough to greet the stragglers who were filing in along the corridor politely. A tug on his sleeve from his brother focused his attention to the opposite gallery where he espied his father escorting his mother and sister. They walked slowly, Snape near Narcissa, but never touching, keeping a watchful eye on the little girl in front of him.

Calista, sturdy on her toddler legs now, spotted the boys immediately when they came around the corner and ran full pelt at them screaming in joy, blond curls bouncing in her wake, causing several of the older Witches and Wizards to turn in shock – but they eventually smiled indulgently upon the tot and continued to file inside. Severus and Narcissa approached at a more sedate pace, close but not touching. Narcissa smiled as she saw Draco gather up his baby sister and hug her tightly, Harry and Hermione petting and cooing over her. As the adults grew nearer, Hermione took the little girl from Draco allowing him to greet his mother properly.

He bowed low to her, kissing her hand first before straightening up and embracing her, bestowing kisses to her cheeks.

“Mother, I grieve with thee,” he greeted her formally, offering her his arm which she took – leaning a bit more than usual on it as the polished black doors opened revealing the interior of the sanctuary. They paced up to the bier quietly, Severus staying with Harry and Hermione.

Harry leaned into his father to catch the older man’s attention.

“Erm, you should know that the woman that Lucius was with is here, over in that corner.” He indicated with a quick sweep of his eyes to the far right of their seats and Severus frowned. “Draco nearly hexed her on the spot, but Hermione nipped his wand and we took him into the hallway.”

“Well done, son. Thank you for letting me know; I’ll keep an eye on the situation,” he whispered back, settling further into his seat.

Calista nestled into her godmother’s arms, eyes large as she took in the strange room and all the strange people, thumb stuck in her mouth. Zeroing in on the man laying on the table as the being the main reason they were all there, she patted Hermione’s cheek to get her attention as the vicar from Hogsmeade entered from a side door, previously hidden under an arras.

“Aunty ‘Mia, who dat man? Why he asleep?” she asked, her childish voice piercing the gloom with its innocent query. This evoked several chuckles from the more kindly minded in attendance, and shushes and glares from those who thought solemnity needed to be the order of the day.

Hermione looked at her professor for permission before beginning. He had noticed Narcissa looking back with a pained expression from her seat next to Draco in the first row, but she had nodded that Hermione should try and Severus had waved a hand at the Gryffindor to continue, casting a muffling charm over their little group. So, very quietly, explaining that they had to whisper in respect for the service about to happen, Hermione told the little girl in simplest terms what was transpiring in front of her and who the man was.

“What’s a papa?” Calista asked and Hermione started, taken aback for a moment before realising the child had never known what a father was – never knowing her own. She thought a bit before she answered, looking at Harry, hoping he would give her some help – and, unknowingly, he did.

“You know how Uncle Severus is Harry’s daddy?” she asked. The little girl nodded, sneaking a look at the dark professor. “Well, Mr Malfoy was your and Draco’s daddy.”

“But Uncle Sev is Dwaco’s daddy!” Calista announced shrilly, her own world order becoming confused. Hermione could see Harry’s shoulders beginning to shake with hidden mirth until the professor laid a hand on his son’s shoulder to remind him about needed decorum.

Hermione shushed the little girl, bouncing her in her arms for a moment. “Yes, he is – now, because Draco didn’t want to do some bad things that Mr Malfoy wanted him to do. So Mr Malfoy  - hmm, allowed your uncle to become Draco’s new daddy.”

Mentally, Severus rewarded Granger ten points for managing to explain to his goddaughter the family dynamics in a way the child would understand. Calista, for her part, sat quietly on Hermione’s lap while the vicar continued on with the prayers for the deceased, obviously mulling over what her godmother had explained to her – eyebrows knitted in concentration.

At the end of the short service, a casket rose up around Lucius, the cloth cover disappearing with a pop to return to the Malfoy family vaults and Narcissa took off her wedding rings, placing them on Lucius’ finger before closing the lid. This was the signal to magically transport the casket to the family mausoleum where the family House-elves had already prepared his niche and were only waiting for the coffin to appear before sealing it up forever. A wail rose up from the back corner and Narcissa turned around slowly to pierce the woman with the coldest and most annoyed glare she could muster. The witch was too hysterical to even notice the reaction she was getting, or she was a very good actress – was Hermione’s stray thought, wincing at the nails-on-chalkboard effect the screech was evoking.

Severus sighed heavily and wandlessly caused the woman to faint dead away in her bench corner – effectively shutting her up. People nearby immediately turned their backs on her and made their way forwards to greet the widow.

After murmuring the appropriate thanks to the vicar (slipping him a generous donation to his parsonage), the widow and her son slowly made their way to the little group of people at the back. Graciously, they listened to condolences the entire way along the short walk to where Severus patiently awaited them and then led the family group to her rooms for a small private luncheon.

Calista kept them all entertained with her antics, the seriousness of the day making little, if no impression, upon her after her enquiry during the service. The three teens found themselves sitting on the floor playing with the little girl and seeing who could make her laugh the loudest, finding her innocent laughter a balm for raw spirits.

****

The third night in a row, Severus had looked in on his boys to find them both sharing the same bed, back to back. Obviously, both were experiencing bad dreams again. The first two nights, he’d found Draco curled up on Harry’s bed and tonight Harry had come over to comfort Draco. If they were doing this so often, it was probably time to call in Whitney McDonald for a mental check-up. He floated the blankets over the boys, tucking them in against the perpetually cool dungeon air and closed the door, resolving to call in the Child Advocate in the morning after the closing breakfast. The students were being sent home early, exams being called off in light of Voldemort’s return, the excitement of the tournament, and the need to begin strengthening the wards around the school immediately. He and the boys wouldn’t be leaving until after the weekend, needing to get several things done for the end of term.

Narcissa and Calista had left for Malfoy Manor that afternoon after the small luncheon, needing to meet with the family solicitors. The sooner she gained control of the Malfoy estate, the better. They would be joining the Snapes at Prince Manor when she had a better understanding of where the family finances stood, not having been involved with them for the last eighteen months.

He headed down the hall to the sitting room where he found Runeskin had anticipated his needs this evening, a glass of elf wine and his current book sharing the small round table next to his chair. The evening had a bit of nip to it, especially in the dungeons, and a small fire was crackling in the hearth. Onyx – now a full grown male cat and easily approaching the ten pound arena – and Silicia were sharing the warm flag stone, basking in the warmth. A contented purr escaped the cat as Severus bent over to pet the feline, and Silicia tasted the air once as he ran a finger along her head behind the eyes, settling into a more contented position.

Sipping his drink, he settled back as well, opening his book to where he’d last left off.

****

“Thank you, Whitney, for your prompt response,” Severus said, welcoming the man at the door to the Great Hall.  After the closing breakfast where school awards and prizes were handed out, announcements made concerning apprenticeships won and the formal awarding of the final points for the tournament, (which Harry and Cedric had insisted on taking together), the students had said final farewells to their guests for the year – watching in awe as the ship slipped away into the lake, and the winged horses – their hooves sounding like rolling thunder – take off for the sky. Then, after saying goodbye to their classmates, taking longer with some more than others – promising to make time over the summer to meet up, Harry and Draco had grabbed their brooms, heading for the sky themselves as soon as they were able, losing themselves in the pure joy of flying.

Severus led him out to the pitch where the boys were flying rings around each other. Whitney was experiencing deja vu – as this was nearly identical to the first time he had met the boys, three years before. This time the men watched from the stands as the boys flew instead of calling them down immediately.

“So, if I can believe the papers, your family has been experiencing quite a year, Severus,” Whitney began.

“Depends on the paper,” Snape quipped. “If it is Skeeter, don’t believe a word she says,” he warned. “On the other hand, Lovegood is actually printing near factual information – for once,” he mused.

Whitney chuckled, pushing his glasses up onto his bald forehead and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees while looking over at his host. “They look happy enough, Severus – why call me in?”

“What the papers don’t relate is what really happened during the last task, and what was revealed afterwards.” He stared off into the sky while he spoke to the advocate, keeping his eyes focused on his sons and their antics. “I was forced into a duel with Draco’s sire and had to kill him in self-defence. Harry found out some nasty truths about the Headmaster and their relationship, and was forced into a ritual that brought the Dark Lord back into being – as well as duelling him in a fight that was meant to be his death.” He continued to explain things further, Whitney soaking in the narrative as he watched the boys fly above him.

“I see. And you say they are experiencing nightmares again? Well, that should be expected after all this, shouldn’t it? Have they been using the Journals?”

Snape nodded. “As far as I know, they still religiously write in them each night – I know they always get each other stacks of new ones each Christmas.”

“And has Harry spoken to the Headmaster since the last task?”

“He systematically avoids him. With good reason, and I must admit I’m still debating as to whether or not to pull them out completely because of his actions.” He sighed heavily before continuing.  “It wasn’t just him entering Harry’s name in the tournament – that was the last straw, actually. It was everything before it – things that didn’t make sense until I was finally able to step back and view the picture from a larger scale in order to see the patterns of machination.

“I’m a ruthless man, Whitney, and I’m not proud of some of things I’ve had to do over the years – forcing Lily away was one of the worst. But what Albus has done to Harry over the years... How can I continue to keep him here?”

Whitney peered over at the conflicted father sitting next to him. “Am I here for the boys, Severus, or you?” he asked teasingly.

Severus smirked at the Advocate. “Triple bill me, then.”

“Nah, here’s my free advice to you. Do what you think is in the best interests of your family. If that means letting them continue their education among their friends – with added safeguards in place – then do it that way. If it means withdrawing them and going to ground until you can find a way to fight back decisively, do that. I know – I’m only repeating what you know yourself, but why not ask them what they want to do. Their answer may surprise you,” he foretold.

“Perhaps. Well, shall we call them in and go picnic by the lake?” Severus asked. Whitney agreed and Severus pulled on his link with Harry, reeling the boy in – his brother following.

 

Severus leaned back in his Wyvern-hide chair, feeling like he was finally relaxing for the first time all year. He had finished with his end-of-term projects, had let Harry and Draco let off some steam in the skies over the restored Quidditch Pitch, had participated in a family therapy session with Whitney McDonald and Whitney had been correct – Harry’s answer had stunned him.

“I can’t leave my friends, Dad. I need them. I’m not a lone wolf – I have to have my friends and family around me. As much as you, Draco, Narcissa and Calista are family – so are Ron, Hermione and everyone else. What would happen to them if we left them to the Headmaster’s plan?” he asked.

“You know, Harry, you weren’t the only child born at the end of July...” Severus hesitated to point out.

Harry just gave him a look that plainly said ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’

“For whatever reason, Voldemort and Dumbledore have chosen me; whether I want them to or not. We are now aware of Dumbledore’s hand and can plan for it,” Harry said, quite reasonably. Severus suspected his sons had been talking late in the night and this was just the final, calm, culmination of their discussions.

“We could avoid him entirely and just go elsewhere for the remainder of your school years,” Severus offered.

“We could – but I’d rather study in a place where I know everyone. He’s going to find me no matter where I go, Dad – you know he can.”

Severus had to agree, in the end, his son was right – Voldemort would find Harry wherever they went; leaving would just delay the inevitable; better to stay with the devil they knew and could plan around.

They had finally returned to the manor today and the boys had fled for their rooms long enough to shed cloaks and unpack their brooms before racing out to the back and taking to the skies. This seemed to be Harry’s preferred method of coping with the past year – not having much of a chance to fly during the school year as in years past - and Whitney approved of the activity stating that at least he wasn’t brooding in his rooms.

Severus intended upon getting them back into their summer routine – as he’d done the last two summers – of study, lessons in martial arts, swimming, dancing and customs. He floated over his personal lap-desk and prepared to write to their tutors from the last two summers and make sure they were aware their charges were back for the next few weeks.

Perhaps letting the boys have a few get-togethers with their friends – some formal parties where they could practice their manners?  Narcissa would love to organise those. He sat back after giving the notes to his owl, Edgar, and sending him on his way.

Thinking about Narcissa and Calista always brought a smile to his face these days, something that was lately becoming a rarity. He rubbed at the spot on his arm that was always emitting a low-level burn, reminding him of the mistakes of his youth – and how much he needed to teach his sons and their friends how to protect themselves from the threat on the horizon. Voldemort was back and he wasn’t going to stay quiet long. Severus knew the Dark Wizard was only biding his time until he had his organization back in place – preferably breaking out those who still dwelt in Azkaban, their minds made even more unhinged by the presence of the Dementors.

Perhaps a study group over the summer for those students who wished to learn defensive and offensive spells... Handpicked students from the elite of each house – fourth year and above... Calling more parchment to him, he hunched over the writing desk and began sketching out his plans for his new group.

****

“One, two, three... one, two, three... very good! Chin up, shoulders relaxed – Excellent!” The tiny witch who was their dance instructor was beating out the time with her walking stick, walking her way through the waltzing couples dispensing her wisdom as she went. Harry and Draco were very familiar with that stick making pointy contact with various areas of their anatomy when they weren’t paying proper attention. Today, Narcissa, Severus, Pansy and Hermione were joining them in the dance class in preparation for a formal party the Snapes were throwing for their friends.

Narcissa and Calista had arrived a few days earlier, Narcissa flushed with success at handling the legal affairs after her husband’s death. While he had disinherited Draco – there was a codicil stating that if Lucius died without any further male issue, Draco stood to re-inherit. Apparently making sure there was still a male Malfoy in charge of the estate was more important than whether Draco still considered himself a Malfoy.

Narcissa had insisted that the woman Lucius had been seeing over the last year be tested and she was not pregnant, to both women’s’ relief. Narcissa did not want to deal with the nightmare of legal work that a male by-blow of Lucius’ would have caused, and Miss Pilliwickle was happy that she would not have to sacrifice her figure for nine months. The rest had been formalities only and by the end of the month she and her new financial advisors – ones she and Severus had hired after thorough background checks – had gone through the books with a fine toothed comb, selling off any asset that even had a whiff of being a shady dealing, or hidden Death Eater holdings. The rest she had investigated and fired managers when necessary, promoted others when deserved and basically brought the estate into sounder financial standing.

With all of that out of the way, she had happily moved over to Severus’ manor house for the rest of the summer while her own Wiltshire mansion was being remodelled and purged of any objects not deemed acceptable and the wards thoroughly changed. There was no telling who Lucius had allowed access to the current wards and, with the resurrection of Voldemort, Narcissa was willing to spend exorbitant amounts to have them restructured.

While she and Severus waltzed gracefully around the room, showing how it should be done, Harry manoeuvred his partner closer to the edge of the room where Calista was sitting very properly on a chair nearly twice her height. Harry dropped Pansy’s hands and, with a bow to little Calista, whisked the toddler off her chair and into the air where he twirled and dipped her in perfect time to the music, her delighted laughter ringing off the ballroom ceiling.

****

Harry and Draco stood at the entrance to Prince Manor, tugging at their dress robes, awaiting the first of the arrivals. Their father had sent out Portkeys to their friends for the evening festivities. Because Draco’s birthday had been celebrated while they were still at Hogwarts after the final task, this party was for Harry and Neville who essentially shared a birthday, being born only an hour apart.

A pop in the air announced the first arrivals for the evening: Neville, his Grandmother, and his date for the evening, Susan Bones. Draco escorted Mrs Longbottom to the Ballroom while Harry chatted for a moment with Neville and Susan before more pops were sounding in the courtyard and Harry had to play the good host, greeting his friends and their dates. When he finally was able to make his way back to the third floor ballroom, Pansy by his side, Harry discovered the room awash in light and sound, the girl’s dresses swooshing across the floor, taffeta, silk and organza rustling. Presents were piled in two large piles on a round table in the corner that had scarlet and gold tablecloths layered over it. Another long table held finger foods, a sheet cake wishing Neville and Harry happy fifteenth birthday and a huge punch bowl that had a frozen fruit ring bobbing in the centre keeping the contents cool, which was needed with all the dancing the students and their chaperones participated in.

Severus had planned the music to progress from standard waltzes and ring dances to eventually the cacophony teenagers called music these days, having a sitting room across the hall set up for the adults to retire to when the party became too much for their ears. Calista was allowed to stay up, as a special treat, long enough to prance around the room in her new party dress, specially picked out for tonight’s party, get twirled by her big brothers and godfather, gather kisses from everyone else and a small sliver of cake and two fingers of fruit punch in her cup. Then Runeskin appeared to take her to her nursery after she garnered more kisses from her mother. Really, wasn’t the party all about her?

As the chaperone’s gathered in the sitting room, Severus decided to spring his plan for the remaining weeks of the defence study group.

“We are all aware of the Dark Lord’s return and my son’s use in his resurrection despite the administration’s total denial of the affair. I feel it is only a matter of time before he brings the fight to the school. It is important to him – it was the place where he truly felt at home and accepted for what he was. With Dumbledore running it, and Harry attending it, it only makes it that much more enticing to him.

“We must prepare our children to defend themselves and their school against intrusion. There are only so many teachers, and with the Ministry hiding its head in the sand there will be no help from Fudge. The only way he will believe is if he sees He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named standing right in front of him.”

Arthur looked wisely at the Potions master. “What are you proposing?”

“That I run a seminar for the remaining weeks of break, here at the manor where the wards are impenetrable, teaching your children defensive – and some offensive – spells. If it goes well enough, I can extend it to the school year, practicing in the Room of Requirement.”

Arthur, who was much more realistic than his wife, Molly, agreed immediately. “Although Molly won’t want the kids to attend,” he warned. “But the twins are of age now with only one year left and Ron is Harry’s friend – trouble will find him without him looking for it – the same goes for Ginny as she hangs around with your son’s crowd. Molly will just have to realise that this is the way things will be and it is better for our children to walk in with open eyes and prepared spells under their breath than with no knowledge at all. Most of the truly defensive spellwork I learned was after I left school and through my friendship with Aurors.”

Severus thanked him for his agreement and looked at Walter Parkinson and Augusta Longbottom. Parkinson had been on the fence for years. He had managed to support both the Ministry and Voldemort, picking and choosing which causes he agreed with from both camps. Anthony Greengrass followed his lead. Never outright Death Eaters, but some funding had their names attached to it. It would take little persuasion to get them into Harry’s camp for the duration; because – if he were truthful – Harry would inevitably face Voldemort. Whether Harry or Severus believed in the prophecy was a moot point now; Albus and Voldemort believed and they would do everything to make sure there was a final meeting between the two Wizards. Severus would ensure that Harry and Draco were as prepared as he could make them – if that meant going behind Dumbledore’s back, then so be it.

Augusta Longbottom had been ready for quiet retirement when her son and his wife were attacked the same week as the Potters, effectively orphaning their son while they wasted away in St Mungo’s, unable to break through back to the real world. She had pinned all her hopes and dreams on little Neville, nearly ruining him with her anxiety and worry. He had arrived at Hogwarts convinced he was little more than a Squib, useless at anything complicated. Yet, he had his grandsire’s green thumb. The family had gained a lot of its fame from a small farm in the south of England that cultivated a small crop of tobacco, known over the last two hundred years as Longbottom Leaf. The growing and curing secrets were kept only in the family vault, and the pipe leaf was considered one of the best Wizarding blends around the world. Only a small amount was cured every year, and it went for premium prices in the Smoke Shops. Neville was a genius when it came to Herbology, far surpassing his grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s knack for the subject. Already he had made improvements in the family business, adding other hard-to-grow stock to their repertoire and succeeding in making them thrive, selling the bounty to top-of-the-line apothecaries.

Augusta had been surprised that Neville had such talents, and he had blossomed under the tutelage Snape had arranged for the boy during his second year, gaining confidence with every passing year, willing to try new things. If Snape felt that the time had come to prepare the children beyond what they had been learning in school, she would believe him.

“Neville will be there, bright and early.” She gazed over at Parkinson. “If you know what’s good for you, Walter, you’ll agree as well. Don’t sit on the fence this time; go with your gut, young man!”

Parkinson grimaced over his drink at her prompting. He was scared to admit it, but he believed what Severus had said. He finally nodded his head. “Pansy will be here and both Greengrass girls will, as well. I may know of some other neutrals who would agree to the training,” he added and Severus thanked him; that would make things easier.

“I’ll get you a list of those children I feel could benefit,” Severus told him. If all went as planned, he would have a core group of students who could then teach others, spreading the knowledge like wildfire. Albus wouldn’t like it – Snape could almost guarantee he would hate it, which just made it that much better.

He almost rubbed his hands together in glee.

****

 “A defence group?” Harry asked at breakfast two days later after their father had laid out the plans.

“When would it start?” Draco asked almost on top of his brother’s question.

“It starts in forty-five minutes on the back patio. Runeskin has already gotten the area prepared and will be one of your instructors. Auror Moody will also be joining us along with his partner, Auror Tonks.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Harry asked, nibbling on a piece of toast.

“You met her at your relatives’ trial. The girl whose hair was bright purple, I believe?” he reminded his son. Harry vaguely remembered the girl, and he shrugged.

“I guess I remember her. I try not to think about that day too much.”

“Understandable, under the circumstances. In any case, she will be joining us and I’ve contacted the Werewolf as well, as he was one of the few decent instructors you’ve had over the years, loathe as I am to admit it.” He raised a hand to forestall Harry’s next question, and Harry closed his mouth with a snap. “And before you ask, no – your dogfather will not be joining us. Dumbledore has him on another mission at the moment. You might see him before term begins, but there is no guarantee.”

He closed his morning paper with a stern look at his son who was pouting over his eggs. “I would finish up, gentlemen; we have a busy day ahead of us.” With that, he rose from the table, bestowing kisses on his goddaughter and her mother while Draco nudged his brother to get him to finish his breakfast.

“It’s just that I haven’t seen Sirius in over a year and I haven’t heard from him in weeks,” Harry groused, pushing his eggs around on the plate, but not really eating.

“I understand, Harry, but if you don’t eat something now, Dad will burn your butt later,” he warned in a low aside. Harry sighed, took a few bites of egg, grabbed a piece of bacon and excused himself from the table, following his father out of the dining room.

Narcissa had watched the entire exchange silently, patiently helping Calista master the use of spoon and fork. After Harry left she locked eyes with her son, raising an eyebrow in question.

“He just misses Sirius,” Draco explained.

“His godfather? I see,” she said, in an understanding voice. “You better get going, or your ‘butt will be burning’ as well.” She chuckled merrily as Draco panicked and rushed away from the table, yelling after his brother to wait up.

“Your brother’s are very funny,” Narcissa said, tweaking her daughters’ nose as the little girl gazed up at her.

“Dwaco fu’y,” she pronounced.

“Yes he is, you little imp, here!” she filled up the spoon again with warm oatmeal and placed it in her daughters grip.

****

Severus paced around his lawn, watching as the instructors he had chosen ran fourteen students through their paces. He had never seen Harry so concentrated – except when he was learning defence and combat, he realised. The boy had the same look in his eyes as when Runeskin had first taught them the House-elf martial art. All of the students had that determined look, paying attention to their instructors and hanging on every word – not quitting when it got hard.

He eyed the weakest student in the bunch – Longbottom. Neville seemed to have more determination than anyone, willing to cast repeatedly until he got it right. It seemed as if... of course! The boy was having the same problems Weasley had been having with his wand before he’d gotten a new one their second year. How could he have missed it all these years? He walked with more determination over to where Neville was practicing against a conjured dummy, trying to master an expelliarmus, Lupin by his side, coaching.

“Reach inside, Neville, feel the power running up from your core. You can do this...” the werewolf was encouraging.

“Longbottom, stop this instant!” Severus demanded and the student froze in place, a scared rabbit look on his face. Everyone else stopped what they were doing to watch and Snape sent his glare sweeping around the garden. “Did I say everyone else should stop? No, I did not! Back to work!” Without waiting to see if they complied, as he knew they would, he completed his walk to stand beside the flustered boy.

“Pr – professor?” he stammered.

“Where did your wand come from?” Severus asked.

“Sir?” Neville was baffled at the question.

“It’s a simple question, son, where did your wand come from? Did you buy it from Ollivander?”

“Severus, you’re scaring the child...” Remus started, reaching out for the Gryffindor.

“Quiet, Lupin. I require an answer, Neville.” He stood patiently waiting for the boy to answer.

Neville gulped, but answered anyway. “I didn’t buy it, sir. My Gran insisted I use my dad’s wand – said it responded to me... I should learn how to become accustomed to it,” the child said as if repeating a mantra; and Severus was sure he probably was – one he’d been saying to himself for four years.

“I’m sure she’d like to believe that,” Severus muttered, half to himself. “Tell me, Longbottom, does your heart sing when you pick up your wand, or does it just feel like a piece of wood – or maybe something a little bit more than a stick?”

Neville looked up at him, mouth dropping open. “She never believed me... you mean it’s not my fault, I’m not doing something wrong?” he pleaded.

“How does it feel?” Severus asked again more gently and Lupin stepped back, realising what Snape was doing.

“It – it feels familiar to me – like it is related somehow – but I have to really push to make it do anything.”

“As if you are pushing through treacle...” Severus prompted.

“Yes!” the gangly boy said, relieved. Severus noted that Longbottom seemed to have lost all his baby pudge, lengthening out into a tall young man. It always amazed him when children he’d watched growing up, sprouted overnight like that.

“Put that wand away, boy, it is not meant for you. No wonder you are abysmal at anything other than Herbology! That wand is your father’s, not yours. It does not recognise you as its master. Grab your cloak and come with me, we are going to take a trip to Diagon Alley – and I will speak to Augusta this afternoon when she comes to pick you up. She needs to stop treating you like Frank!”

Neville happily shoved the wand into his back pocket and grabbed his cloak from the stack on the ground, running after the Potions master who was striding back across the lawn towards the house.

They returned, two hours later, with Neville in proud possession of a new wand – cherry with unicorn hair – and he showed it off to everyone before he gladly shrugged out of cloak and returned to the dummy he’d been casting against that morning. Lupin smiled kindly at him and reminded him of the incantation again. Severus wandered up to watch.

“Ready? Just aim and flick your wrist in a circle to the right as you say the incantation, Neville,” the former professor reminded him.

Neville took aim, flicked his wrist correctly and shouted “Expelliarmus!” No one was prepared for what happened next as the dummy exploded apart, its components soaring backwards fifty feet and the dummy wand it was holding flying straight to Neville’s outstretched hand as if it was a pin being drawn in by a powerful magnet.

There was stunned silence on the lawn before the Weasley twins broke out in applause and everyone followed along a second later, converging on the blushing Gryffindor while Lupin, Snape and Mad-Eye shared raised eyebrows. Severus gave a quick tilt of his head to step away from the crowd and the other two sauntered over to stand next to him.

“That was unexpected,” he commented blandly.

Mad-eye looked calmly at him. “Don’t they share a birthday?”

“Yes – born within one hour of each other; Neville before midnight, Harry right after. Are you suspecting something?”

“He’s been manipulating your boy from the start – who’s to say he didn’t interfere with Longbottom as well?”

Remus gasped. “You’re not seriously suggesting what I think you are... Are you?” Snape looked pitifully down at the impoverished academician.

“You weren’t there, Lupin, when we discovered Albus’ hand in several misadventures that involved my son – from the start! He is more than capable of manipulating the playing field to his advantage. If that meant making sure that a little boy never discovered how powerful a wizard he truly was capable of being – he would do it in a heartbeat, especially if it meant that would open the way for his chosen puppet to excel,” he said, bitterly.

“Chosen puppet – Harry?” Lupin was incredulous.

“Harry,” Snape confirmed. “Albus believes in the prophecy because Voldemort believes in that piece of drivel. As a result he has been attempting to hone Harry into a pliable weapon, deliberately placing him in harms way to see how he would perform. I’ll give you three guesses as to who put Harry’s name in the cup last year and the first two don’t count,” he said sarcastically.

Lupin bounced his gaze from the irate father to the Auror and back. “You’re absolutely serious about this. No wonder you’re training the children. And you think Neville’s talents have been deliberately hidden behind a mismatched wand?”

Severus stroked his chin as he watched the students shout spells at Neville to try and the boy was nearly bouncing in joy as each and every one came effortlessly from his new wand. “At first I thought Bellatrix had crucioed the baby as well, I wouldn’t have put it past her. But Longbottom is an undeniable genius in the Herbology field, and with encouragement and proper tutoring, he has managed to survive my classes for the last three years. Anything with a wand, however, like defence, charms or transfiguration, he has low marks in. When I was watching him earlier, I noticed he had the same problems with his wand that Ron Weasley had with his old family wand before he got a new one his second year.” He looked down at the shorter man. “I think, Wolf, that if you ask Augusta Longbottom who gave her the idea of having Neville use his father’s wand, you will find she will answer Albus Dumbledore. It wouldn’t do to have two Boys-Who-Lived, now would it?” he questioned the devoted follower of the Light.

“I see I missed quite a lot this year. What about Harry’s relatives? Was he aware of their abuse?” he growled.

“To an extent,” the father grimly affirmed.

“And you are letting the boys return?” Lupin asked, amazed.

“That was Harry’s decision. I would have pulled him out in a heartbeat and tutored them here for the next three years, or sent them abroad, but Harry is insisting they go back as he is comfortable there. He is quite aware of Dumbledore’s involvement with everything and is not on speaking terms with him. At least this way I’ll be there with him. The question is, who do we get to teach DADA – neither of you two can return, and I don’t dare take it – at least not until the boy’s reach their seventh year, so we need to find at least two capable instructors for the next two years. We can’t count on Dumbledore hiring the right person.”

“There really is a curse on the position?” Lupin asked. “I thought that was just rumour?”

“The Dark Lord used to brag about it in inner circle conclaves,” Severus said.

“I can see the curse encompassing the room,” Moody said, tapping his eye. “It attaches itself to the instructor the minute he signs the contract. Bloody annoying to watch, mind you!” he huffed, leaning on his staff. “It made my skin crawl the entire year! I was glad to be rid of it, I assure you!”

“So who do we get?” Severus asked to the air.

“We could...” but Remus stopped as Severus glared at him.

“Don’t you dare suggest that mongrel, Wolf,” he warned. “He is still a fugitive in any case until Pettigrew slips up and gets himself caught. I was hoping it would have happened by now...” he muttered.

“Then you make a suggestion!” Remus was clearly agitated, his hands clenching into fists and sparks flying from his wand.

“Bill Weasley,” Snape tossed out after a moment. “He is bright, talented, conducted himself well at the World Cup fiasco, is an accomplished curse breaker...” The other two looked thoughtful at the suggestion, rolling it around trying to find something wrong with it.

Moody spoke up first. “He’s a follower of the Light, a strong wizard, I can’t find anything wrong with the suggestion. So that’s one; who else?”

“What about your protégé?” Remus asked, indicating the fuchsia-haired Auror who was organising the students into a game of magical bounce ball. Instead of passing around a rubber ball, bouncing it to the centre of a circle and calling out a number, they used their wands to pass around a spinning ball of light, keeping it off the ground. He smiled watching her interact with the students, obviously enjoying her enthusiasm.

“Tonks?” the other two asked together, stunning their third party into silence.

“Is there a problem?” Lupin asked.

“Has she gotten any better?” Severus asked the grizzled Auror, ignoring Remus.

“Marginally – still trips over air – but, other than that, she has done quite well in the program; highest ranking graduate last year. Another year in the field... she could be ready by Harry and Draco’s sixth term then you could take over for their seventh,” Moody suggested. “It’s easier to find a Potions master than a competent DADA instructor,” he pointed out. Severus had to agree – in fact he knew his old teacher, Slughorn, was still alive and shouldn’t be too hard to find if it came to that.

“Now, how do we get Albus to offer Bill the job?” he asked the other two. Lupin surprised him by volunteering.

“Leave that to me,” he declared, his eyes turning golden in the afternoon light and Severus shivered at the sight of them. “Just make sure Weasley will accept the position when it is offered.”

Severus nodded and assured the angry man that it would be arranged.

The next few years promised to be interesting, indeed.