“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.