“Three dragons!” Harry shouted. “Are you mad? One nearly killed me. How am I going to fight three?”

“The rules are a bit complicated,” Snape began calmly. He grabbed Harry’s shoulders and turned him towards the roaring dragons.

Harry could see the heavy chains around the monsters’ necks, keeping them tethered. Moretta, that old hag Harry thought spitefully, stood in front of them, out of reach, with her wand posed for action.

“Make her leave,” Harry groused, but Snape kept talking.

“You will find a way to corral the three dragons into three separate cages. You make sure they cannot leave and that will complete this test.”

“Cages?” Harry whipped his head side to side. “I don’t see any cages.”

“You will construct cages or rather transform cages to capture the beasts,” Snape explained as if he were discussing instruction to making a simple potion.

“Out of what?” Harry kept pushing down his panic, refusing to do what he wanted: freak out and grab Snape for protection. He knew the man would not let him die, but Harry couldn’t resist adding, “And you said if I get hurt and end up in the hospital again, you’ll – you know.”

Snape looked down at him. “Believe me, Harry, that warning still stands.”

“So if I get hurt doing a test that you designed, I still get punished?” Harry was outraged. “That’s completely unfair.”

“Indeed it is,” Snape nodded. “I advise you not to get hurt. Ready –”

“This has to be the most unsafe thing you’ve ever made me do,” Harry declared.

“Get set –”

“I’m going to die and then you’ll be sorry!”

Snape reached out to smack him on the shoulder. “Enough of your lip. Go!”

Moretta stretched her arm up, and the chains disappeared from the dragons. Instead of going to eat her, the dragons rushed forward towards Harry, snarling and blasting fire, their sharp teeth wet in the flames.

Harry glanced back to Snape for advice, but the man had disappeared.

“No, you leave me?” Harry cried. “Never near when you want him, but when you don’t, he’s right – whoa!” he jumped back to avoid a stream of fire.

And then he started running. He was sure he would never outrun the monsters, but weeks of training had hardened his muscles and improved his speed. The ground shook as he dashed across the field, three dragons in pursuit. Harry wasn’t sure how long he could keep ahead, and suddenly he felt fire lick his hair.

Shouting, he slapped at his head to make sure he was not on fire, but his speed slowed down considerably. In a split second, he spun on his heel and ran towards the dragons. The change surprised the dragon in front, the horntail, and Harry used the surprise to dash under the dragon and shoot blasts of energy up at its tender belly.

The horntail roared and fell to the side; Harry rolled out of the way just in time to keep from getting crushed by the huge beast. The vipertooth tripped over the fallen body, but the ridgeback flew up and over both dragons to charge for Harry.

He had nothing to arm himself, not even his broom. Trust Snape to make everything difficult for him. Harry pushed his frustration with his father aside and concentrated on thinking how to kill the brutes. He ran to a huge pile of logs, each log perhaps ten feet in length, and Harry considered flinging the logs at the dragons with magic, but he decided to keep running.

Avada Kadavra came to mind, but Harry guessed that Unforgivable Curses should not be used on animals as well as humans. Besides Snape would not like Unforgivables. Harry could already see the man’s face as he demanded to know how Harry could speak those awful words.

“I’ll do it the hard way then,” Harry hissed.

He ran hard for twenty steps and whirled around, shouting, “Severus corpus!”

A bolt of red light streaked out of the wand at the ridgeback. Its tail dropped off, and Harry watched green blood spurt from the severed tail and the back of dragon’s body. But then suddenly the tail began to grow from the oozing wound, shooting out until the dragon had a full tail again.

That confirmed Harry’s suspicions – the dragons were not real, just a part of the magical test that Snape had created. Harry felt a twinge of resentment at being made to run for his life when it was all just another part of the stupid training. He was going to kill them all, no doubt about it. That was probably the tricky thing about dragons – if you wanted to keep them alive, you had nothing but trouble. But if you wanted to kill them, it was all a matter of fast moving and shouting out the right curses.

The dragon stepped forward and its claw caught the back of Harry’s hoodie. He flung off the knit jacket as quickly as possible and kept moving.

The next few minutes were a blur to Harry. He ran so hard his chest ached, he shouted spells and got splattered with dragon blood. He felt sorry when he killed the ridgeback, cast a spell that ripped out its throat and made its heart explode, but he kept telling himself none of it was real, just a test.

The vipertooth proved a more difficult target. The beast lunged forward at Harry, and though he stumbled back, its sharp teeth caught his sleeve and ripped the whole sleeve from the shoulder. The air might have felt cool and damp to Harry’s bared arm, but again he moved too fast to feel anything.

He hit the vipertooth with spell after spell, but they bounced off the dragon’s tough skin. Desperate and winded, Harry finally cast a blinding spell at the dragon’s eyes. He knew the spell landed and landed hard because the beast gave a roar of rage and started swiping and biting at nothing.

“Ha!” Harry jeered. “Not so fierce without your sight. Take that.”

He sent an exploding spell at the head, and bits of brain, scales, and bones rained down on his head.

The field looked grim and gruesome with the two slain dragons sprawled across it, but Harry turned his attention to the horntail that had recovered from the early spell and fall and now was charging for the last living thing on the field, Harry.

Harry dashed back to the pile of logs. He fought a short stick, about three feet long, and he transformed it into a sword. Wand in one hard, sword in the other, he turned to face the hurling monster.

“No, you don’t!” he yelled at the monster. “I’m the hero here. I win. End of story.”

With all the strength he could muster, Harry raised his wand and sent the strongest stunning spell he had ever produced coursing out towards the dragon. The horntail flopped forward on the brown grass, and Harry pocketed his wand before grabbing the sword with both hands.

With a cry of rage and angry, he thrust the sword into the side of the horntail’s neck. The sword sank in to the hilt, and Harry held it tight as the horntail raised its head in pain. Harry felt himself airborne for a few seconds, but his weight on the handle of the sword caused the blade to rip down and tear the dragon’s throat in half.

Though the dragons were fake, Harry hoped that cutting the dragon’s head off would kill it even if cutting its tail off did not. The horntail kept thrashing its half-severed head back and forth, spewing blood everywhere. Harry was soaked with the blood, but even worse his glasses were so coated he could not see anything. He gripped the slick handle of the sword and yanked his glasses off. A dark blur thrashed in front of him, but finally the dragon began to topple.

Harry saw the dark blur coming at him, a huge shapeless mountain of dying dragon. With a hoarse cry, he turned and ran. But the falling dragon caught him, pinning him under its huge head.

For a minute, Harry thought he would be smothered to death. The dragon’s head crushed him, and he could feel a row of sharp teeth pressing against his ankle. Harry reached out with both hands and grabbed for handful of grass. The brown grass broke in his hand on the first pull, but he dug his fingers into the cold ground, desperate to get a hold.

He dug so hard his hands ached, but when he pulled, his body slid out from under the dragon a few inches. Twisting back and forth, he wormed his way out, clawing the ground until he lay exhausted beside a dead dragon under the gray sky

Then the dragon disappeared from his side. Harry grinned wearily and pulled out his wand. “Accio glasses.”

His sticky glasses flew to his hand and Harry cast a cleansing spell over them before putting them on. His world came back into crystal-clear clarity, and he saw Moretta at the edge of the field, frowning at him.

Harry scowled at her, but then a movement caught his eye. Before he could react, Snape grabbed him by the arm and whirled him around.

“You wretched boy,” Snape bellowed. “Disobedient, reckless, arrogant – hand me that switch right now so I can make good use of it.”

Harry glanced down to see the sword that had turned back into a stick. He raised wide green eyes to Snape. “What did I do? I fought the dragons, and I won.”

“You killed them!” Snape looked wild with fury. “I said to put them into cages, not slay them.”

“They were going to kill me,” Harry retorted. “What was I supposed to make cages out of?”

“The logs! You were supposed to make them into cages. Or use the smaller sticks to construct a small cage and enlarge it. Not kill them.”

“I survived without a scratch – shouldn’t you be glad for that?” Harry’s frustration began to show.

Snape looked down. Harry followed the man’s gaze and winced when he saw his own trousers. Both trouser legs were coated with dragon blood, but the right leg had a tear in the fabric. And through that tear, dark red blood was mixing with the green. He must have cut his leg on the teeth when he pulled free.

“It’s doesn’t hurt,” Harry said tentatively. He was lying a little for as he spoke his right leg began to ache. He read the stern look in Snape’s eyes that boded no good, and Harry hastily added, “It was my first time. I haven’t fought a dragon in two years, and you throw three at me at once. It’s not fair and I wasn’t ready and I really tried, but I was focused on survival, not-not –”

“Not what you were told to do?” Snape raised one eyebrow, and Harry felt his stomach sink.

“I still survived,” Harry muttered. He wanted to claim that his survival was the most important thing, but he already knew Snape would reply that the most important thing was following his father’s instructions. Arguments got Harry nowhere with the man, except into more trouble.

“Stop that,” Snape ordered. “I can see what you’re thinking, clear as day. Learn to hide your feelings.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Moretta asked, appearing beside them suddenly, her eyes open and direct.

Harry wanted to shout “Not your concern, hag!” but he knew how Snape would feel about his disrespect to teachers.

“Take him back for a bath,” Snape said with a sigh.

“You think he will learn that way?” Moretta asked in the same unfeeling voice.

“Do not criticize my teaching methods,” Snape’s voice had a cold edge, his eyes hard as flint. “Or my parenting skills.”

He grabbed Harry’s upper arm, and Harry flinched at the tight hold.

“We’re going home, and I’ll be grateful to you for cleaning up this training session,” Snape was polite but firm.

Moretta gave the smallest of nod, and Snape headed back towards the road, Harry in tow.

“Let go – I can walk on my own,” Harry jerked back. Snape was holding his still-attached sleeve, and Harry wondered if he would pull that sleeve off as well with his iron grip.

“Look at your clothes,” Snape scowled, not letting go. “I just bought you new clothes, and you ruined them.”

“Next time I’m going to fight dragons, I be sure to wear my old clothes. Oh, that’s right – I didn’t know I was going to fight dragons.”

“You need to be ready for anything.”

“You want me to wear my old clothes all the time?”

“Stop being so blasted cheeky,” Snape ordered.

Harry growled, but said nothing.

The journey back to Hogwarts was rough. Harry felt cold without the hoodie and missing a sleeve, and all the blood turned icy in the wind. Harry’s leg ached, and he wished Snape would Apparate them back to the gates of Hogwarts. But he guessed that Snape didn’t want to hold him close and get blood all over his dark robes.

“Hear,” Snape stopped by the stump of a huge oak tree. In the middle of the stump sat a metal bucket. “Portkey.”

Harry felt reluctantly to touch the portkey; he was wary of the things ever since the night in the maze with Cedric. But Snape waited impatiently, and Harry reached out to grab the blasted bucket.

A sickening jerk and Harry found himself sprawling on the cold floor of the dungeon. He had just pushed himself to his hands and knees when Snape popped in, the man landing on his feet.

“I hate those things,” Harry complained as he stood.

“I wouldn’t use them except – Harry! Look what a mess you made on my floor.”

Harry felt too tired to protest; he gave an exhausted shrug and scuffed his shoe against the floor, swiping at the smear of green and red blood.

“You’re impossible,” Snape said before casting a cleaning spell on Harry.

The blood disappeared immediately, but he still felt chilled to the bone. He tucked his hands under his arms, hugging himself and trying not to let his teeth chatter.

“Sit down,” Snape indicated a wooden chair. “I want a look at that leg.”

Harry sat and tugged up his torn trouser leg, revealing a long gash along his leg that still bled.

“Potion?” Harry asked wearily, already bracing himself against the nasty taste.

Snape sniffed disdainfully and cast a healing charm over Harry’s leg. The wound healed instantly, and the ache disappeared.

“Hooray, no potion,” Harry sighed as he relaxed in the chair.

“There will always be potions,” Snape threatened. “I don’t want you getting spoiled.”

“Ha,” Harry snorted, “as if you could ever spoil me.”

He was fairly certain he was not in trouble for killing the dragons, but with Snape, he could never be too sure.

Snape smirked with satisfaction, but then he pointed to his bedroom door. “Go, take a bath to warm yourself.”

“Too tired,” Harry muttered, hugging his arms to his chest even tighter.

“Go take a bath or I’ll make you shower in the middle of the Great Hall,” Snape warned.

Harry did not believe him, but he pushed himself to his feet anyway and staggered into the bathroom. He did not hear Snape cast the spell, but a tub of hot water was waiting in the bathroom when he opened the door.

Harry stripped off his raggedy clothes and eased into the water. He was afraid the water might scale his cold limbs, but the water felt just warm enough to his body. He leaned back against the tub, and gradually his eyes drifted shut. Harry felt the water begin to warm as he adjusted to the temperature.

He wanted food, too, but he could not imagine ever getting out of the tub. If everyone, meaning Snape, could just leave him alone for the rest of his life, Harry thought he would be fairly content.

A scraping sound caused him to open one eye a crack. A bathbrush, soap, and a rag were moving towards the tub. Harry had not forgotten the morning wash spell from Snapdragon Manor, and he sat up in the tub with a splash.

“Huh-uh, no, you’re scrubbing me. Come on, Dad, I’ve only been in here a minute.”

“You’ll fall asleep in there,” Snape called through the door.

“So I never get a moment’s peace?” Harry retorted. “I just fought three dragons.”

“Ten minutes,” Snape conceded.

The brush, soap, and rag drifted back from the tub. Harry settled back in the water, but of course he could not relax completely now. He kept one eye open for any movement from the objects, and finally he sat up in the tub and started washing himself.

A warm shirt and trouser were folded on a chair, and Harry put them on after drying off. He was pulling on a pair of thick socks when the bathbrush twitched. With only one sock on, Harry dashed for the door.

Snape sat at his desk, grading papers. “That was quick.”

“Ha-ha,” Harry shot back. He flopped down on the sofa, pulling his leg up to put on the other sock. He meant to get up and leave before Snape could start lecturing, but Harry stretched out on the sofa for just a second. He could hear the ticking of the clock and Snape’s pen scratching on paper.

“You should go lie down for a proper nap,” Snape told him.

“I’m not napping,” Harry replied crossly, not opening his eyes. “I’m resting for a bit.”

Snape made no comment, just kept writing. He finished one essay, not pleased at all with the student’s abysmal writing skills (spelled ‘potion’ poshun and ‘caldron’ caltrone), and start on the next when he heard the boy start to breathe deeply.

Snape opened his mouth to tell Harry that he was indeed napping, but instead Snape stood up. He took the quilt from one armchair and approached the sofa.

Harry lay on his back, his arms twisted at odd angles and one leg bent awkwardly. Snape put a gentle hand on his shoulder and began to roll him forward, tucking a sofa pillow under his head once he got the boy on his side.

“Stop babying me,” Harry mumbled, but his eyes stayed shut as he snuggled into the pillow and pulled his hands under his chin.

Snape spread the quilt over him, resisting the urge to smack the boy for being such a bother. Oddly enough, Snape could think only of the beginning of the summer, when he forced Harry to take a nap by stunning him and then rolled him to his side and covered him up while Harry glared up at him, unable to move. Quite a different boy than the teenager slumbering on his sofa.

Snape stepped towards the door. He needed to see Dumbledore, to report on the afternoon and the progress Harry had made. But Snape felt reluctant to leave. After all, he told himself, the brat didn’t stay quiet most of the time, preferring to mouth off and disrespect his father for a good portion of everyday. Shouldn’t Snape enjoy the peace when he had it?

Snape settled back down at his desk to grade a few more papers and plan the next week’s lesson. Quickly, he cast a silencing charm around the room. That way, no one in the hall could be loud and wake Harry. And since Snape felt ready to strangle anyone who would wake his sleeping boy, the silencing spell protected several students in the hall who clamored past, wondering loudly to each other where their Potions Master had been all Saturday.