Harry stood at the door of the Potions office, contemplating what would be waiting for him outside the rooms he had found solace in for the last few days. He didn’t want to return to classes, to the students, to the Tower, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t hide in Snape’s rooms forever. He had to face it all sometime. Hiding didn’t change the fact that Ron was gone and the world was still spinning, life was still going on.

“Scared, Potter?” Snape said casually, coming up behind Harry. Harry briefly flashed back to second year and dueling Malfoy who said the exact same thing. Except Malfoy’s version had been cruel and taunting. Snape just sounded curious and possibly even a touch worried.

Harry snorted to himself. Like Snape would be worried about him. Their relationship hadn’t changed that much.

Had it?

“A little,” Harry finally admitted. “Although, I don’t know if it’s so much scared as it is…”

“Lost?” Snape suggested and Harry looked up at him, nodding. “I am sure you will find support somewhere. You have lost a dear friend but you are not alone. You still have many others.”

“Maybe. I haven’t been too popular since I became a Champion.”

“You’ll be surprised how much tragedy can bring people together,” Snape said and Harry found himself wondering, not for the first time, who the professor lost that had given him such experience in Harry’s situation. “You are close to being late. You should go.”

“Right.” Harry stopped with his hand on the door handle, a question forming in his mind. Would he ever be allowed back? Did he want to come back? Were their weekly meetings still on?

“Be here Thursday as usual unless you feel the need to come before then. You are welcome to hide down here.”

Harry smiled slightly at the offer and implication that he would need or want to hide. “Thank you, sir.”

Snape just inclined his head. “Go, Potter. Delaying will only make it harder.”

Harry nodded and finally walked out into the corridor. It was like a breath of fresh air as he hadn’t seen anything except Snape’s rooms for nearly four days. Not that he was complaining. He was grateful for the time to be alone and for Snape allowing him to stay, but it was nice to get out. He took a deep breath, hitched his bag that house elves had brought him onto his shoulder, and slowly walked out of the dungeons. It was still breakfast so mostly everyone was still in the Great Hall, allowing him to head to Charms with very little interaction. He received stares from the few students in the halls that were heading to class as well, but no one tried to speak to him.

He was relieved when he pushed open the Charms room door and found the classroom still empty. He quickly found his seat and dropped heavily in the chair. After steading his breathing and trying to rid his body of some tension, he pulled out his Charms book and began to read the next chapter to try get a head’s start on the next lesson.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before students began to shuffle in, each one stopping in the doorway to stare at him wide-eyed for a few moments. When Hermione appeared, he did his best to give her a smile but she just turned from him and sat in the seat right by the door and next to Parvati Patil. Harry frowned but didn’t have much time to dwell as Professor Flitwick first approached him with condolences and offers of extensions on assignments before beginning the lesson. Distracted, he failed to see the Slytherin that continued to watch him with grey eyes.

The same treatment continued throughout Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense, and even lunch. Everyone stared at him, giving him wide eyes with any number of emotions in them. Each professor offered him their sorrows over Ron and then provided him with the option of gaining extensions for his school work. Worst of all, Hermione continued to ignore him, never once sitting with him in classes and leaving him to sit alone except in Transfiguration where Neville sat with him, but only because he had no other choice.

When dinner time came, Harry dropped down at Gryffindor table and felt his heart break a little when each Gryffindor very obviously moved as far away as they could. He sighed sadly and poked at his fish, resting his head in his palm as he propped his elbow on the table. He didn’t notice when a handful of people were suddenly sitting around him.

“Hey, Harry.”

He looked up to find the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, Neville, and Ravenclaw’s Luna Lovegood had joined him. They all looked extremely drawn, of course, but not nearly as destroyed as the twins. He was surprised they were still at Hogwarts as Ginny had gone back home for a while. They looked awful, like they hadn’t slept or stopped crying for days. He probably wasn’t far off.

“How are you?” Neville asked.

“As well as I can be, I suppose,” Harry said with a small shrug.

“Where have you been staying?” Lee said.

“With Snape actually,” Harry said, noting their surprised looks. “He was actually really great. He helped a lot.”

“He’s not so bad,” George said quietly.

Harry nodded slowly. “Ron was seeing that even before me.” A brief silence fell. “I’m so sorry about Ron. I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you.” He bit his lip in a futile attempt to stop his coming tears.

“Sure you can,” Fred said.

“He was your brother too,” George said quietly and Harry’s resolve broke, tears pouring down his face and sobs bubbling out.

He tried to keep quiet, remembering he was still in the Great Hall surrounded by students and staff. His attempts were failing, however, as he buried his face in his hands, vaguely feeling the hands placed on his back. Images of Ron flashed through his mind, making him break down further. Though he was almost completely disjointed from himself he still managed to tune into the new voice.

“Follow me.”

“What do you want, Malfoy?” he heard Fred say.

Malfoy was there? How humiliating.

“Thought I’d give you somewhere to go so you can grieve alone rather than having the entire Hogwarts population watch.”

“Let’s go,” Harry choked out and, after a few moments, Harry, the twins, Neville, Lee, and Luna stood to follow Malfoy out of the Hall. They walked for a while, heading to the seventh floor where Malfoy eventually stopped them to pace in front of an empty wall. Slowly a door materialized in the stone, stunning Malfoy’s companions.

“C’mon,” Malfoy said quietly and entered the room, the others slower to follow.

They found themselves entering a cozy little sitting room. The floor was carpeted with a deep auburn carpet. A large poufy sofa sat in front of the small fireplace, the sofa a calming navy blue. In another corner, a few blue lounge chairs made a circle in front of a large window that showed a view of the Quidditch Pitch. It was really a tiny room, but it was also comfortable.

“Welcome to the Room of Requirement,” Malfoy said.

“That’s what this is?” Fred said, shocked. Malfoy nodded.

“We’ve always looked for this place,” George said.

“I know some things,” Malfoy said with a shrug.

“What is this place?” Harry asked quietly.

“Room of Requirement,” Malfoy said. “Gives you anything you need. Just pace three times in front of the wall, thinking hard about what you need. Now you can use it whenever the Astronomy Tower isn’t available.”

With a small smile, Malfoy left the room, ignoring their calls for him to stay. Confused about the young Malfoy’s actions, the six of them eventually spread out, varying between sitting in silence and quietly talking.

Harry entered the Great Hall again a couple days later, determined to talk to Hermione who had continued to ignore him. The First Task was only days away and he wanted the support of his friends especially now he didn’t have Ron. He didn’t have much left without Ron. He quickly spotted Hermione sitting at the closest end of Gryffindor table with Ginny and made his way over.

“Hermione.”

“Go away,” Ginny spat. He didn’t miss how red and dull her eyes were. His chest ached at the sight. “We don’t want to talk to you.”

“Hermione,” he repeated.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Ginny said, glaring at him.

Harry ignored her. “You can’t even talk to me yourself? You have to have Ginny do it?” He didn’t react to the noise of protest and angry look that came from Ginny. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because it’s your fault!” Hermione finally shouted brokenly, swinging around to face him and getting to her feet. Harry’s eyes widened at the sudden outburst. “You are the reason Ron’s dead! He was with you! You-Know-Who is after you so his Death Eaters are too! They attacked the village to get you! You killed him! You killed him!”

Harry took a step back, staring at Hermione’s angry, tear-streaked face. He felt his eyes burn. Tears were on their way and his heart pounded painfully as he took her blame.

Her face suddenly hardened and the look in her eyes behind the tears was pure hatred. “It should’ve been you. I hope this tournament is your death,” she said quietly but still loud enough for the entire silent Hall to hear.

As Harry stood frozen in shock and internal agony, Ginny rose and, with a hateful glare of her own, led Hermione out of the Great Hall. Silence reigned for a few moments as everyone stared at the shattering Boy Who Lived. Soon, though, noise started up and Harry was anguished to realize the shouts were students agreeing with all Hermione had said.

Their comments swirled around his head and their furious, hateful glares were burned into his eyes. He felt the tears begin to finally pour down his face. More shouts joined in and he tuned in just enough to hear the new noise was defending him. However, the side agreeing with Hermione remained louder and he couldn’t help but hear all they said.

“Your fault!”

“You killed your best friend!”

“It should have been you!”

“You should’ve died!”

“No one wants you!”

“It should’ve been you!”

It should’ve been me. The single sentence flew around his head.

Through the tears, his eyes found their way to the staff table. McGonagall had a hand over her mouth and her eyes were wide, like Flitwick’s. Moody was staring hard at him with both eyes, bringing about the unease again. Hagrid’s face was full of pain and he had a couple tears on his cheeks. Dumbledore, like Moody, was just staring at him with a hard expression. There was no twinkle in his eye and his lips were pressed thin with some kind of emotion. Karkaroff was sneering but there was also a small smirk in it.

He finally found Snape. He was unreadable as always but he was staring at Harry as well. Snape’s face was tight but the black eyes were different. There was no rage, no disgust, no hatred. There was something else but Harry found he was no closer to identifying it. He registered the nearly imperceptible nod Snape gave and it made him finally turn to leave the Hall. He pushed through the door and it was only once he was gone that he heard Dumbledore finally order silence.

Sniffing and his heart breaking, he slowly walked into the dungeons. He navigated the corridors, passing the Slytherin common room. A sob fell out as the memory of their Polyjuice foray into Slytherin territory in second year made an appearance in his mind. More tears fell and he pushed on, crossing his arms tight across his chest as though he would fall apart.

They didn’t have a meeting that evening. It was only Tuesday. However, he had said Harry could come back before Thursday and there was his little nod in the Great Hall. Would he even be there yet? He was still in the Hall when Harry left.

His musings were answered when the office door opened, revealing Snape. “Come in,” the Potions master said quietly.

Harry walked into the rooms and sat once again. While it wasn’t officially a meeting, they both wondered if the meetings were even effective, if they had any use or validity at all. He, however, was beginning to like them a bit. They were becoming an outlet and escape.

“How are you?” the professor asked.

Harry blinked at the fire.

“She hates me.”

There was a brief silence.

“She is grieving,” Snape said. “If she had truly been a friend, she would not have said such things and would not be using you as an outlet for her grief.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Snape looked at him sharply.

“It is my fault,” Harry said. “The Death Eaters were there for me; they’ll always be after me. He died because he was my friend and with me. I killed him.”

His crying increased. The ache in his chest eased slightly only to be replaced by dullness and emptiness.

“It was not your fault, Potter,” Snape said. “It was an unfortunate tragedy. He could’ve died no matter what because he was in the village during the attack.”

“They wouldn’t have attacked if it weren’t for me. They’re after me. I should’ve died on Halloween then Ron would still be alive.”

“Potter.”

Harry looked at him with a heartbroken sardonic expression. “Don’t worry, sir. I’m not suicidal. Contrary to popular belief and everything I have gotten myself into, I don’t actually want to die.”

“This was not your fault and no one has a right to blame you,” Snape said. “You deserve to be alive.”

“I might not be for long, not with this tournament,” Harry said, wiping away some tears. He stared down at his hands. “I have no idea how I’m supposed to survive. Maybe it’s best I don’t, given how Hermione and everyone else are thinking of me.”

“You just told me you did not want to die.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t,” Harry said. “Nothing but bad things have happened since I started Hogwarts. So many students have been hurt. Maybe it’s better I just disappear. No one wants me around anyways.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Snape said. “There will be some that still support you. You simply have to find them.”

Harry huffed. “You were in the Great Hall, sir. You saw what happened.”

“Dimwitted pack mentality,” Snape said dryly, gaining a small snort of amusement. The professor sighed as he regarded his distressed—no, depressed—student. While he knew the boy still had a few friends, nothing would replace the loss of Granger and especially Weasley. The boy really didn’t have anyone and that would not help stop his downward spiral into depression.

He took a deep breath, aware he was breaking many rules. “Potter, I am going to help you through this and the tournament. You will survive.”

“Sir?” Harry said in surprise, not expecting the determination in his professor’s voice.

“You can tell no one you know or that I told you this, understood?” Harry nodded, staring at Snape intently. “In the First Task, you must battle a dragon.”

Silence.

Harry blinked slowly, comprehending. “A…dragon?”

Snape nodded, folding his hands together. “You are required to retrieve an egg from a nesting mother.”

Harry stared at his professor for another long while. He had to fight a dragon? At fourteen? How was he supposed to do that? He had no one to help him. Ron would’ve helped come up with a plan. Not a good plan, by any means, but that’s when Hermione would’ve stepped in with a real plan and then helped him prepare. But he had neither of them. They were the only reason he had survived anything the last three years. He didn’t think about anything, he just jumped in. He wasn’t powerful. He knew nothing about magic. He didn’t know how to plan. He didn’t know how to fight. He wasn’t even smart!

Tears filled his eyes once more at the thought of his lost friends. He needed them so much. He had no one.

“Potter?” Snape said, startled at the rapid appearance of tears in the boy’s eyes.

A couple tears fell. “How am I supposed to defeat a dragon? I can’t even perform a Summoning Charm!” He proceeded to bury his face in his hands as more tears fell and his shoulders shook.

Snape looked at the sobbing boy, unsure. While their relationship had clearly improved a little since the start of the year, they still weren’t on the best terms. They still had a lot of history, they both had secrets, they both had tempers, they were both stubborn. They clashed in all the worst ways and it would take more than a few weekly meetings to mend it all.

As such, Snape really wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t expected the revelation to drive Potter to tears, though maybe he should have with how unstable the child was since Weasley’s death. How was he to approach this? The grief was easy. Like him, Potter didn’t like to talk while grieving so he knew he could just be silent company. This, however, he knew the boy needed something.

“I don’t want to die,” Harry suddenly whispered and Snape’s stare hardened.

“Potter, you are not going to die,” he said firmly. “You will do this task, this tournament, and you will survive.”

The boy raised his teary eyes. “How? How am I supposed to do this at fourteen with no one? I don’t know enough; I’m not good enough.”

“I never want to hear that again, understand?” Snape said sharply. “You are good enough. You have talent, you simply have to utilize it to your advantage in the situation.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Harry said, wiping away another tear.

“Think of what you are good at and find a way to use it,” Snape said. “I will help you once you have a plan.”

“Really?” Harry said, shocked as he wiped at another tear.

Snape nodded. “I will ensure you survive this.”

Harry swallowed thickly, filled with all kinds of swirling emotions. “Thank you, sir,” he finally said quietly.

Snape inclined his head in response. “Now, I want you to go and think about what you may be able to do. Come to me when you think you have a solid idea. Remember, tell no one I told you about the dragons.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said and left the man’s rooms.

He paused in the corridor, contemplating. He didn’t want to go to Gryffindor Tower. He wasn’t ready to face them all after what happened in the Great Hall. He should really do what Snape said and try to formulate a plan for the First Task. Knowing more about dragons could help as well. With that thought, he decided to go to the library.

He walked through the dungeon corridors and then up the Grand Staircase to the library. He was a corner away when he found himself being yanked into an alcove. He immediately went for his wand but quickly found his wrists tightly grasped by one large, scarred hand. He finally looked into the face, relaxing only minutely when he recognized Professor Moody. His stomach jumped and twisted at his proximity to the strange man. He frowned slightly as he took notice of a strange tick in which the man’s tongue poked out every few seconds. Did he normally have such a behaviour?

“What do you plan to do about your dragon, Potter?” Moody said and Harry’s frown deepened.

“My…what?” How did Moody know he knew about the dragons? He had only just found out.

“Your dragon, boy, the First Task,” Moody said, finally releasing Harry’s hands. “You’ve got a plan, don’t ch’a? The others do.”

“The others know too?” Harry said.

“Sure do. You’re late to the party,” Moody said, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, what’s your plan?”

“I-I don’t have one,” Harry said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Moody growled, his tongue continuing to dart out. “C’mon, boy, think! What’re you good at? What’re some of your skills? Transfiguration, Charms, curses?”

“No, none of those,” Harry said, shaken by the need to suddenly figure it all out instantly. “I don’t know! I can fly.”

“Damn well from what I hear,” Moody said, both his eyes looking at Harry earnestly.

“I don’t understand. How does that help me with a dragon?”

“You tell me.”

Harry frowned, his eyebrows coming together.

“Good luck, Potter,” Moody said and he suddenly clunked his way away from the alcove.

What was Moody trying to say?

The Auror was so odd and he did not like the feeling he got every time he was close to the man. He slid out of the alcove and bit his lip, wondering what to do. He wanted to continue to the library but he had a very small voice that was telling him to go to Snape.

He frowned at himself. What would he go to Snape for?

Tell him about Moody, the feelings you have around him, the little voice said. It had become clear, so clear that he actually spun around looking for Ron. His eyes watered as he realized when he was doing. He shook his head, blinking rapidly to clear the tears.

Getting control of himself, he headed into the library, deciding he’d rather have some quiet to contemplate things before having a big, uncomfortable discussion with Snape. He headed down one of the aisles, not immediately realizing that he was nowhere near the section on dragons. Instead he found himself at the back with books about magical wounds and scars. He blinked in slight surprise. Shrugging, he pulled a few down, including a book on other kinds of magical markings, and grabbed an empty table.

He flipped through the first couple, quickly finding they had nothing useful. The third, however, was a different story and he was soon reading a section.

All magic leaves behind a magical residue and it is within this residue that one’s magical signature can be found. Magical residue allows for the tracking of a spell and also the determination of what was cast and how strong it was. When applying magical residue to an injury, however, it becomes more complicated as magical residue does not tend to attach itself to a living being.

This does not mean it is impossible. It has happened in rare occasions. When magical residue attaches to a living being, it is most commonly after an extremely traumatic and violent exercise of magic that causes bodily harm, whether to the caster or a victim. In such a case, the residue becomes more palpable, acquiring some of the strong magical qualities of the caster. The magical residue latches onto an injury in an attempt to continue the initial and intended curse, to make the injury worse.

Some wizards who have had magical residue attach to them have experienced pain in a scar that is years old. Once attached, the magical residue becomes something physical within the human host, usually in the form of some sort of external scar. Magical residue can be removed but only with the use of an extremely complex potion and a mix of intricate spell work.

One must evaluate all possibilities behind a pained scar as a transfer and attachment of a soul fragment may be another possibility.

Consult Demeter Mulligan’s The Soul Fragment for further information.

“Soul fragments?” Harry muttered to himself, frowning.

It was possible to break a soul? How was such a thing done? Why would anyone do it?

Making a quick decision, he left the table and began to search for Mulligan’s book. He went up and down each aisle, looking carefully. As he got further and further, he felt his heart drop, thinking the book was not to be found. However, after a few more aisles, he managed to spot it on a top shelf, the silver letters of the title shining. He raised a hand and focused on the book, causing it to float casually down to him.

There was nothing to the cover. It was black. The title was in big block silver letters across the center. Demeter Mulligan’s name was in neat silver script at the very bottom, also centered. It was a fairly thick book and Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about there being so much information on such a topic.

Holding the book tightly, he hurried back to his table and sat down. He ran a hand over the cover, pushing the other books aside.

“Hey, Potter.”

Harry looked up, scowling at the approaching Malfoy. The Slytherin leaned on the back of a chair across the table from Harry and glanced down at the books. He raised his head with an eyebrow raised and a smirk.

“Extra credit?”

“Personal,” Harry shot back. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“To make sure you don’t die like an idiot next week,” the blonde said.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “The dragons, you moron. I’m here to give you your solution.”

“How do you know about the dragons?”

“Diggory and the half-giant aren’t exactly quiet. Diggory doesn’t know how to whisper and the half-giant just likes to brag, particularly to the Beauxbatons giant.”

Unwillingly, Harry shuddered alongside the Malfoy heir at the idea.

“So what’s this genius plan of yours?” Harry snapped sarcastically.

“Actually it’s just the final step to the plan you’ve already been fed by the lunatic Moody,” Malfoy said. “Honestly, can you do nothing on your own?”

Harry glared. “Tell me already or leave.”

Malfoy sighed dramatically. “Fine. You plan to use your broom, right?”

“Uh…”

“Great,” Malfoy interrupted. “You’re only allowed to bring your wand so summon your broom.”

Harry blinked. “I can do that?”

“If you learn how to do the Summoning Charm in five days, then yes, you can do that.”

Harry groaned internally. The Summoning Charm just happened to be the spell he was not catching onto easily.

He narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because there are some people that will be very upset if you’re mauled by a dragon.” With that, Malfoy pushed off the chair and began to walk away, but he stopped after a few steps. “By the way, I’m truly sorry about Ron.”

Harry stared in a mixture of confusion and surprise as Malfoy walked away, wondering if Malfoy had ever called Ron by his name before.