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.