Harry felt slightly sick as he stared blankly at his eggs and marmalade. His green eyes glanced up surreptitiously at Ron who arguing with Hermione about some Transfiguration assignment, before dropping back down to his plate again. Hermione was separating Ron and himself on the bench of the Gryffindor table that morning. Ron wasn't speaking to Harry, blinded by injustice of the Goblet of Fire's decision; both boys were now having a fall out.

Harry had never felt so alone.

But that wasn't the worst of Harry's problems. Last night Harry had traveled into the Forbidden Forest, accompanied by Hagrid and hidden under an invisibility cloak. And what had he seen? Dragons. A dragon was to be the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Bloody Dragons! Harry thought with despair. How the hell am I supposed to fight off a bloody Dragon?

Harry's hand shook a bit as he reached for a bit of strawberry jam to spread on his toast. The knife slipped from his fingers as Fred gave a rather raucous laugh, and slit his palm.

"Damn it!" Harry hissed.

The entire end of the Gryffindor table turned and watched as Harry swore and mopped at his hand with a napkin.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, darting forward and taking his hand.

Harry colored in embarrassment, and tugged his hand away. "It's alright, Hermione."

"Go to the up to the Hospital wing." Hermione said, drawing back and seeming a bit put out. "I'm sure you'll be fine in time for Defense."

Harry jerked his head and got up off the bench, leaving the Great Hall and all the accusing stares behind. He could feel Ron's especially, burning into the back of his head. Harry swallowed a lump in his throat and hurried into the vast Entrance Hall.

About to make his way to the Gryffindor dormitory, Harry stopped dead as he came face to face with Snape at the bottom of the stairway.

"Potter."

"Sir."

Snape glared at Harry before his eyes traveled downwards and came to rest on the slit that marked Harry's hand.

"My, my, my. How clumsy of you, Potter. It seems as though you've been basking in the limelight once again." Snape sneered, while Harry simmered in the beginnings of anger. "No, being the youngest Triwizard champion doesn't seem to be enough anymore... need to make a spectacle of yourself to gain attention. Tut tut."

Harry, who thought that a bleeding hand hardly constituted as ‘spectacle,' spoke through his gritted teeth. "It was accident, sir."

Snape heaved a long-suffering sigh, and vaguely gestured at Harry. "Come with me, Potter."

Harry hesitated and Snape gave him another glare. "Today would be appropriate, Potter!"

That got Harry moving, and soon he was following the sweeping hem of Snape's robes as he lead him up the staircase and then down a corridor into an unused classroom.

Snape pointed at a random chair, "Sit." He ordered, before turning away and shutting the door.

Harry watched in apprehension as Snape took out his wand and cast a bunch of difficult looking spells and then turning back to Harry. He approached the nervous student and eyed him with disdain.

"Let me see your hand."

Harry's eyes darted to Snape's face and back to his hand again, "It's really nothing, sir... I can handle it."

"As predictable as your bravery is," Snape sneered at him, surprisingly not just grabbing Harry's hand himself. "I would prefer you to have real medical attention instead of using your sleeve as a bandage."

Harry looked down in embarrassment. That was exactly what he had done; there was now a spot of blood on his robes.

Harry hesitated one moment further and then stuck out his hand for his Professor to see. Snape took his hand and examined the mark with furrowed brows. The slice was clean and not at all deep. Snape took out his hand and muttered an incantation under his breath while gently prodding the wound. There was a warm glow of red light and then the cut was gone.

Harry tugged his hand closer to himself, and looked up gratefully at his foreboding Professor. "Thank you, sir."

Snape gave a sharp nod, and then seemed indecisive about something for a moment. "Well... it would not do for you to go to Defense with a blood hand."

That was a bit off topic, but Harry nodded nonetheless. "Yes, sir."

Snape hesitated briefly before sitting on top of a student's desk beside Harry.

"Speaking of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Snape said sourly, "I don't recall, Lupin, ever educating you thoroughly on Dragons."

Harry's heart gave a jolt and he stared at shock at his Professor. Did he know about-?

"I don't think so, sir."

"Erm-" Snape was actually flustered! It would have been hilarious had the situation not been so serious. "Yes, well... Dragon's are very protective of their young."

Harry nodded dumbly; this seemed to make Snape come back to himself a bit.

"Well!" Snape snapped briskly. "Dragons are notoriously difficult to deal with, even in a controlled setting. Their eyes are virtually the only weak part about them, but even though they have a mighty wing span, Dragons can be quite clumsy in the air."

Snape have Harry a pointed look.

Harry's mind was racing with the information he had just been told. Was Snape trying to help him?! It seemed impossible... and yet....

"Thank you, Professor." Harry said, "I never knew any of that."

Snape glared at him again and then went to the door of the classroom and opened it.

"Just educating the inept, Potter." He looked about to leave before he leveled a piercing stare at Harry.

"Be careful at the First Task, Potter. Dragons will be the least of your problems if you aren't."

Snape left and Harry was left to stare numbly at the door.

Harry Potter survived the First Task. Somewhere in the castle, a Professor slept soundly that night.