S.S.

Severus stared thoughtfully at Harry, at his scar in particular. Why should Harry's scar be any different from any other curse scar? Even if it's the only one caused by the Avada Kedavra curse it should be responsive in some way to standard curse scar potions.

His symptoms, of course, were particular to the effects of this curse and not curse scars in general. After all, there is no other curse that leaves the user with a link back to the caster; there are many that cause a good deal of pain but none at the whim of another wizard...

"I said I wouldn't do it," Harry burst out suddenly, interrupting his train of thought just as he had a flash of inspiration. "I'll let you look after my Firebolt during the first task if you don't believe me."

"I know you won't do it. I specifically forbade it this afternoon," Severus replied, a hint of anger creeping back into his voice. He'd been startled during their occlumency session that evening to find that Harry had spent a good deal of the last week practising the fifth-year summoning spell. He'd then been livid to discover it was all because Moody had somehow gotten it into his head that he ought to fly unprotected straight into a dragon's nest!

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you Professor Moody had brought up the tournament, but you went a bit mental when I mentioned the imperius lesson, so I just figured I'd better not say anything."

"Excuse me?" Severus replied, his voice glacial. "I did not 'go mental'. My anger was not disproportionate to the crime he committed. Why are we discussing this again?" 

"You've been glaring at me for half an hour. I can't concentrate," Harry replied, waving his book as if to show him the evidence.

"I wasn't aware that you needed a great deal of concentration to peruse Quidditch Through the Ages for the umpteenth time," he said, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't glaring at you; I was considering the issue with your scar."

"Oh. What about my scar?"

Severus leaned back in his seat and regarded Harry thoughtfully once more. "The only way I can imagine that your scar is truly different from any other curse scar is that there seems to be a link between yourself and the caster. There may be a chance that by personalising the standard potion to you it would have some effect."

"Personalising it? Do you mean by putting bits of me in it, like polyjuice potion?"

"Yes, blood would be preferable."

"Because it's more powerful than hair or nails?"

"Exactly. I could try using hair or saliva to begin with but if it works it would have a lesser effect and I want these attacks stopped as soon as possible."

"Okay, then. When are we doing it?"

"I'm asking for your blood, so you need to consider the matter. Potions requiring blood are usually classified as dark, although that's rather a generalisation considering the purpose of this particular potion. I shouldn't need to point out that it would be disastrous if the potion fell into the wrong hands and you need to be sure that you're happy that I will be safeguarding and administering it."

"I'm still okay with it," he answered, shrugging easily. "I'm getting an apple, want one?" he asked, wandering off into the kitchen so that Severus had to raise his voice.

"No, I want you to think about whether you're comfortable supplying your blood for this potion. There is significant risk involved. Come back here!"

"I was listening. You said you think it'll work on my scar and you're going to be the one making the potion and looking after it, so I think it's a good idea," Harry replied, dropping back onto the sofa and munching happily on his apple as if he had no awareness of the seriousness of such a request. "Is this a test? Am I supposed to say no? I'd say no if it wasn't you asking. I'm not an idiot."

"I would hardly give you false hope about your potion, and I'd damn well hope you'd say no to anyone else."

"So, when are we going to do it?" Harry asked again, biting noisily into his apple.

"Your blood will need to be added during the potion-making process so I'll organise a detention when I've begun to brew it."

Severus set his ink and parchment aside. The top sheet was covered in so much scathing red scrawl that it was hard to make out the essay beneath. He heaved a sigh, downed a potion in a single gulp to relieve the headache that was beginning to form and set to work planning Harry's newest potion.

Some time later Harry caught his eye and offered a wave, departing for his own room. Severus sat long into the night accompanied by the scratching of quill on parchment and the fire burning low in the grate.

H.P.

Harry wasn't exactly brimming with joy over being entered in the tournament but ever since Snape had told him about the prophecy it seemed to put things into perspective. A great big dragon wasn't going to kill him, Voldemort would.

It was weird that Snape didn't share his view on the subject. He really appreciated that Snape was looking out for him and he did want to get out of the tournament, especially if it was some plan cooked up by Voldemort. But he knew now that he wasn't really going to get killed by a dragon and he assumed Snape knew that too.

Plus, Snape seemed to have forgotten all about the other dangerous things he'd already done. He saw him as some incompetent loose cannon that was one step away from getting himself killed by throwing himself into danger and that wasn't what he was doing at all.

So, he'd practised summoning spells with Hermione for a few days... Professor Moody had a point; he should play to his strengths and flying was one of them. Snape's idea was all well and good but disillusionment charms were really advanced and he wasn't any good at diversionary tactics. He was more of a 'face things head on' sort of person. He'd promised to do it Snape's way if it came to it, and he had every intention of keeping his promise, but it was good to have a back up plan, wasn't it? It was nothing to go spare over. If there'd been another Hogsmeade weekend coming up Snape would have tried to ban him from it again. He had that look in his eye.

"Harry?" Hermione said, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Did you want to practice summoning again tonight?"

"Just for a bit, then we'll do something else."

It was his choice what he practised after all, and so what if Snape saw it during occlumency? He could probably say it was a memory from the week before, anyway.

"Oh, you did something!" Hermione all but squealed when the vial he'd been attempting to summon for the best part of an hour tipped onto the floor and shattered.

"It just fell off the table."

"Not by itself. You must be getting the hang of it," Hermione said smiling, possibly in sheer relief that they were finally getting somewhere. "It's a fifth-year spell, so it's no wonder you're finding it hard, but we've got time."

"I know, plenty of time," he agreed out loud. The anxious part of him was quick to remind him that, actually, a week was not plenty of time.

And that week for Harry melted away faster than Neville's desk in potions. And while he was sure everything wasn't going to end in disaster, he did know that it may well end in humiliation and a pitiful display of magic on his part. Every time he thought about the first task he felt dread settle over him. He woke up in a cold sweat dreaming of fierce dragon eyes and silent spectators.

Ron had been steadfastly ignoring him as the days sped by and as the tournament loomed ever closer his resentment was more and more obvious.

"If you want to talk to him then go over there. You two are being ridiculous," Hermione insisted yet again.

"I didn't say I wanted to talk to him."

"Then I don't know why you want to sit there staring at him; he's practically got food falling out of his mouth."

Harry sniggered and shook his head. In truth, part of him was tempted to talk to him. Sure, Ron was completely in the wrong but he'd forgiven Snape when he'd messed up and Ron had been his friend for a damn sight longer than Snape had been his anything. The other part of him was still too angry to try to talk him round again. Ron should know he didn't want this. Ron was supposed to be the kind of friend he could share the prophecy with, Dumbledore evidently thought so, but he was too busy being jealous of Harry, and for what?

"I wasn't staring; I was trying to summon the salt."

"Whoa, Neville! What happened to you?" Seamus called from beside Dean as Neville joined them at the dinner table. The exhausted and trembling Gryffindor fell into his seat opposite Harry with a thunk.

"Detention with Snape," he groaned. "Harry, I'm really sorry but he said you have detention too!"

"Really?" Harry almost scoffed. Snape hadn't held him back after class so he'd assumed he wasn't ready to make the potion he'd mentioned. He must have been really angry over Neville's latest performance in potions to use him to give Harry a detention.

"What for?" Hermione asked indignantly.

"It's all my fault. He was yelling at me for melting the table and his equipment and I told him that me and Harry had saved some of those glass stirring rods we were using and then he said that two were missing and if I hadn't stolen them then Harry must have."

"Now he's just making reasons up to pick on you! You didn't steal anything, why would you?" Hermione exclaimed.

"That's Snape isn't it? It's not your fault, Neville. He's been in a foul mood lately."

"He has been. I wonder why."

"It could be anything, couldn't it?" Harry said dismissively and shrugged. If only it was as easy to shrug off the guilt. Of course Snape was in a foul mood; he was just as exhausted as Harry was. When he wasn't marking students' essays or planning lessons he was working with Harry or brewing for Harry or researching to get Harry out of the tournament. The man hadn't stopped in the last few weeks.

"Maybe it's important... Have you written to, you know, recently?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm not writing to him about Snape," he hissed back, looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Why not?"

Harry gaped for a moment, his mind blank. "I don't want to worry him. he's already worried about the tournament now that it's so close." He was absurdly proud of himself for that clever deception when Hermione bought it and admonished him for being silly.

"That's what adults do. They worry about you, so you don't have to."

S.S.

"It's a quick cut. I'll numb the skin and then make a small incision here," Severus explained, indicating with his wand. "When enough blood is in the potion, I'll heal you."

"How long before it's ready?" Harry asked, peering into the unusually small cauldron and then rearing back with a grimace.

"Yuck, that stinks. It's horrible!"

"A masterful analysis of this particular brew, Mr. Potter. To answer your question, it's more effective the longer it simmers. If you should need it, then it'll be effective from this evening. Up," he said, gesturing sharply at the counter.

"I can stand up – it's just a cut."

"Sit on the counter," Severus snapped, pulling a small knife from a drawer in his desk.

"I'm just saying I can take a little cut," Harry responded with a huff, but he did what he was told all the same.

"I'm certain you could take it without the numbing salve but I would hardly ask that of you."

Harry didn't have a smart retort for that so Severus began the preparations in silence. It was crucial to be absolutely precise. There was a window of only a few minutes to add the blood to this particular potion, otherwise it would be just as useless to the child as all the others he'd given him.

"Do you think I'll be ready in time for the first task?" Harry asked suddenly.

Severus paused as he applied the numbing salve to Harry's arm and met his eyes. "I think that no matter what happens you won't come to harm. I'll see to that, make no mistake."

"I know," Harry replied, nodding seriously. "That's the same place the basilisk fang went in my arm," he said, watching intently as Severus positioned the knife. The Potions Master hesitated slightly, withdrawing the blade.

"Would you prefer to switch arms?"

"No, I was just saying," Harry said easily.

He marvelled at how much Harry trusted him, to unquestioningly put his faith in him was a massive step considering the antagonism between the two of them just a few months before.

Harry stayed silent, watching the procedure with interest, undoubtedly recognising that he'd prefer to have no distractions. Rivulets of blood began to spill immediately after he made the cut and he held Harry's arm firmly in place to make certain enough would run into the cauldron.

Harry frowned as Severus's grip tightened minutely and he let out an exhale of irritation as his wards indicated he had visitors, and discourteous ones at that. Black's sense of unfortunate timing and appalling manners were in play this afternoon. Now of all times, he did not need to be interrupted.

"Brace yourself for an over-reaction. Your godfather and the headmaster have flooed through. Do not move and let me heal you when I'm finished."

And sure enough, not ten seconds later. "What the hell's going on here!" came a bellow from the lab door. Severus reached out to Harry's shoulder to steady him as instinct had him flinching at the noise.

"Sirius, hey!"

How the child could still be so excited to see that waste of space was beyond his comprehension.

"I need a moment, headmaster," Severus called, hoping trust would win out over confusion. It wasn't lost on him that it did look an awful lot like he was slicing up the child and using him for potions, and much as he threatened to do it to some of the dunderheads he taught, it most likely wasn't something either the headmaster or Black assumed they'd witness.

"GET OFF of my godson!" – "Sirius it's fine!" – "Sit still," were yelled simultaneously until the headmaster called for calm.

"He's bleeding Harry into a cauldron! I was right all along that he's using dark arts. I said not to trust him," Black roared, undoubtedly being restrained by the headmaster.

"He's not," Harry called out again, but managed not to move, agitated as he was. A few more drops and it would be enough.

"He's obviously brainwashed him."

Severus snorted at that, pulling Harry's arm quickly towards him and healing the cut.

"Wow. Can you teach me that?" Harry asked, staring down at his unmarked arm and tracing where the cut had been with his finger.

"When you have less on your plate. Go see your godfather while I finish with this," he ordered, giving him a push off the counter and moving to attend to the potion.

"Sirius! SIRIUS! It's fine. Look, I'm fine," Harry shouted, trying to get his godfather's attention.

"I'm not worried that you can't be healed, Harry. I want to know what he was doing to you." Without waiting for an answer he continued. "Is that how you got him to agree to live with you, Snape? Using dark arts?"

"Yes, I've always found cutting children and using their blood in potions puts them at ease in my presence," Severus announced, turning finally to his guests.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at that, which had Severus smirking and Sirius even more enraged.

"Enough. Severus, if you could perhaps explain what you were doing with young Mr. Potter..." the headmaster interrupted sternly.

Severus sighed, enjoying the rage in Black's expression, and drawled lazily. "All the potions I have given him during his attacks have been ineffective. Regular painkillers deal only with the secondary or after effects. I can think of no reason why Harry's scar should behave differently from any other curse scar other than the link to the caster. Its effects are personalised and so I considered that if we were to personalise the remedy then perhaps it would be effective. Hence the blood."

"Interesting idea. Harry was in agreement?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered himself.

"How do we know he's telling the truth?"

Harry scowled, obviously put out that his godfather wasn't willing to take on board his own reassurances.

"My faith in Severus is absolute. I'm sure in the interests of trust and cooperation he would be willing to let you inspect the potion yourself."

Severus indicated to Harry that he should show his godfather the potion while he remained to speak with the headmaster.

"It would have been wiser to inform me of the potion. If it were to fall into the wrong hands..."

"I had every intention of telling you I'd made it. It's a single dose and it will remain with me. It would have been wiser if fewer people knew of it." He threw a dark glare in Black's direction. "This is my home, headmaster, and I've made it clear how I feel about Black."

"You've also made it clear that you consider this to be Harry's home too and his godfather requested to see him before the first task. I'd rather hoped that he would come here to find Harry at ease and would begin to place a little more faith in this arrangement," he explained with a touch of regret.

"If you'd warned me in advance..."

H.P.

"How often does he do this to you?" Sirius muttered in a low voice.

"This once and he asked me if I was okay with it beforehand. I really need this potion," Harry huffed. He loved Sirius but he never listened, not when it came to Snape, and he was getting tired of all the arguments, and of Sirius constantly badmouthing Snape.

"I know you need something to stop the pain, but the dark arts..." Sirius shook his head. "I don't trust that this is for what he's saying."

"I do. He's the one who said I shouldn't have to compete in the tournament and he's the one who's been helping me practice for it in case they can't pull me out and he's been teaching me occlumency, so hopefully I won't need that potion, but he keeps trying to make better ones just in case I do."

"You have no idea what he's like. I saw him grow up, and I know the man he turned into."

"That was years ago."

"And until now, what was he like? Sweetness and light?"

"No! I know he's not perfect, or even nice, and he was horrible to me for years but he's not now."

"One minute he hates you, then he has the chance to have you in his dungeons with no supervision and all of a sudden he cares about you? I don't buy it," he announced, shaking his head.

"Why not?" He winced at how hurt his voice sounded.

Suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder and for a moment he had the irrational feeling that he was in trouble, but when he turned to see Snape's furious expression his black eyes were fixed on Sirius. "He believes that I am incapable of that particular emotion and that I am using you for my own or the Dark Lord's ends," he answered. "Wait in the living room for your godfather. He'll be out in a moment."

Harry opened his mouth to object but Snape fixed his stern gaze on him and he knew it would be pointless to argue. He just hoped Dumbledore could stop them from duelling right there in the lab.

S.S.

"What did you just say to him? Did you just tell my– ward that you cannot believe someone might come to care for him?" Severus thundered, and for a moment Black actually backed away.

"No, I said I didn't believe you could. I don't know what your game is but I'm not going to let you get away with it."

"What are you going to do, Black? Other than come into my home and continue to alienate your godson."

"I'm trying to protect him!"

"You've done nothing to protect him. You do nothing for the boy but provide him brief entertainment."

"This has gone on for long enough," the headmaster interjected. "You will both be on the same side in the war that is to come and if the pair of you wish Mr. Potter to be happy then an attitude adjustment is in order."

Severus sneered.

"Sirius, Harry has heard your views on Severus' loyalty and motivations enough, as have I. Severus, cease this taunting and allow Sirius time with Harry. I do not want to have to mediate every meeting between you and neither does Remus."

"I have allowed him to see Harry. I have abandoned my home for him and the wolf to see the boy."

"He should be living with me. James wouldn't be able to bear it if he knew what was going on."

"He's dead, so it hardly matters what he'd be able to bear," Severus returned coldly.

That last taunt must have been more than Black could tolerate because he gave a strangled shout and pulled out his wand. "I'll see him taken away from you if it's the last thing I do."

"Have you abandoned what pitiful wit you had left? He doesn't want to leave, and if you cause him any more stress than he's already under, I'll protect him from you, Black, and I'll go to any lengths to protect him. Try me."

"He doesn't need protecting from me. Albus, this is madness."

"Your acceptance of this situation is long overdue." The headmaster looked pointedly at the wand he was brandishing. "I suggest you seek your reassurances directly from Harry and accept his word on the matter. Let this issue finally be put to rest."

"Black," Severus called before he reached the door. "Do not even think to intimate that I do not care about that child to his face."

"Or what?" he mocked.

"You'll hurt him."

"That man is a fool," he commented to the headmaster as the door clicked shut behind Black.

H.P.

"You guys are done talking about me then."

"Just about," Sirius replied, taking a seat on the couch beside him. "This isn't easy for me, seeing you living with Snape."

"I know you don't like him."

"No, I don't, but that's not why I can't stand this. I'm worried about you, all the time. I'm worried that whatever happened with your relatives has made you scared to say that you don't want to stay with Snape or maybe there's some other reason I can't even think of that you don't want to speak up." He held up a hand to say he wasn't finished when Harry made to respond.

"But besides all that I can't believe he knows how to look after you the way you should be looked after. The way he grew up, surrounded by the dark arts... He was a Death Eater, so how could I not think this is a terrible environment for you to grow up in?"

Harry groaned. He'd reassured his godfather countless times already. "I like living with Snape. I'm not lying or scared of him."

"But why?"

Harry took a moment to think. It wasn't easy to put into words why it wasn't a mad idea to want Snape to be his guardian. "Because he looks after me and he doesn't have to. He buys me things and makes dinner and then makes sure I eat it even if he's angry. He does things that Ron's parents do for him and he doesn't have to."

"Harry, anyone would look after you if you lived with them. You don't owe him."

"No one else wants me to live with them!"

"I'd take you in a second and Remus would," Sirius declared fiercely.

"But you can't and Snape can, and he's really good at looking after me. He's not perfect, but you've seen him with me when I have problems with my scar."

"He does that for you even when no one's around?"

"He's nicer when no one's there. I reckon he doesn't want you to know he can be all right," Harry grinned.

"I'm not going to believe he's secretly a great guy."

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying he's more relaxed when he's not with you. I want to carry on living with Snape and I want him to be my guardian and I want you to stop trying to ruin this for me. Please, Sirius."

"I've got no choice now. I just can't imagine... I just want you to be safe."

"Snape's trying to make sure I'm safe. You two can talk about that," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I might have overreacted when I saw he'd cut you." Sirius sighed and Harry smiled to show him he wasn't angry about it.

"I think he expected you too. He told me when you flooed in. I know it looked bad but you should trust me. I know what I'm doing."

He nodded. "I'm going to try harder to be okay with this. I'll believe you're happy, but I don't know if I can believe he's what's best for you."

"Don't say that, not to him," Harry begged, not wanting Snape to go back to distancing himself 'for his own good'. "But maybe if you were more okay with this Snape would let you come see me more often."

"I didn't actually come here to argue about Snape. I wanted to see you before the big tournament; it's only a few days away now." Sirius said, visibly brightening at the change of topic.

"Yeah, it is," Harry agreed, failing to match his enthusiasm. "Are you going to come?"

"No, Albus doesn't think that's a good idea."

"I guess not. I don't want you to get caught."

"So, are you ready for it?"

"I think so."

"You're going to do great; James would be proud of you." Sirius' eyes filled with such warmth at the mention of his father that Harry's heart dropped.

"Even if I mess up?"

"You won't mess up, but yeah. He'd be proud you went out there and faced it down." That had his heart dropping to his toes.

"What if I don't do it?"

"Then he'd be relieved you didn't face down a dragon," Sirius laughed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Is Professor Lupin coming tomorrow?" Neville asked the following morning as he flipped open the 'good luck' card his godfather had sent. It was a nice thought. He didn't write much in it but he'd said it all the day before.

"No. I don't think families are coming anyway. No one's mentioned anything about it," he replied, shoving the card into his bag and refocusing on breakfast.

"Yeah, I suppose I wouldn't want my gran there if I was a champion. You've got all of the Gryffindors though, we'll be cheering for you."

Whatever happened tomorrow he was beginning to think someone was going to be angry or disappointed in him. Most of all though, he just didn't want to embarrass himself with the entire school watching. "That just makes it worse. If it all goes wrong, at least if everyone was mad at me then it wouldn't matter."

"Yeah and I suppose everyone thinks you're going to be great because of all the stuff you've done already."

"This isn't making me feel better."

"A task in the triwizard tournament isn't the worst thing you could fail at and I know all about failing."

"Perspective, got it," Harry replied with a nervous grin.

He wanted the day to go slow, for every lesson to be History of Magic with Professor Binns, but the more he wished for the minutes to lengthen, the more they seemed to drain away, until suddenly he was saying goodbye to Hermione and passing through the headmaster's office to spend his last evening before the task cramming in more spell practice with Snape.

S.S.

"Enough. It's as good as it's going to get," Severus announced after Harry had thoroughly exhausted himself that evening.

"That gives me loads of confidence," he grumbled.

"It's not perfect but it will suffice. No, no occlumency tonight," he said as Harry moved to stand in his eye-line. "It's your last night at home and you won't manage well tomorrow if you're over-tired."

Harry nodded gratefully and sank back into the couch as Severus waved his wand and the room became tidy once more. He let out a muttered oath as one of his preferred paintings only partially reassembled itself. The ominous effect was rather marred by the blank patch of canvas showing through. Harry stood and the last pieces zoomed into place from underneath his feet.

"How come you don't have any pictures? I don't think you have any at home either. The other house," Harry corrected himself, coming to stand beside him.

"You can call it home, I just cannot imagine..." Severus trailed off and shook his head. "I prefer to think of these quarters as home. I assume you mean photographs and not paintings."

"Yeah, you don't have any, not even of you."

"I don't own a camera," Severus replied.

"What about when you want to remember something? Don't you have pictures people took of you?" Harry asked, seeming disappointed.

"Who do you imagine is taking these pictures?" Severus replied, shaking his head in exasperation.

"You don't have anything you want to take a picture of?" Harry persisted.

"I'm no photographer. Professionals take far better pictures than I could. I tend to buy a postcard."

"So you have postcards of places you've been?" What was the child getting at? "Where do you go?" he asked, continuing the barrage of questions.

"Fishing for a holiday, are we?" Severus remarked wryly.

Harry laughed. "No, I just wondered what you used to do before I came along."

"Just wait," he said, giving into Harry's curiosity. He returned with an old cardboard box full of postcards that he'd collected over the years, placing it in the centre of the kitchen table.

"Wow, there's loads," Harry said, kneeling oddly on his chair to spread the pictures over the surface. "Is this Italy?" Harry asked, holding one up for Severus to see.

"Geography obviously isn't your forté," he replied and Harry frowned, staring down at the picture then shrugged.

"That's a no then. You should put where it is... Oh wait, it says on the back. Well, you should still put the date on it so you know when you went."

"I know when I went to Athens; you don't know when I went to Athens," he remarked, pulling Harry back to sit properly on his seat.

"When did you go to Athens?" Harry countered, waving the postcard again.

"Write the dates on them," he ordered, sending a quill and ink to drop down in front of Harry. "Athens... that was four summers ago now," he said, frowning as he tried to remember. He charmed a knife to cut a loaf of bread and leaned against the sideboard watching Harry sift through the pictures.

"Where were you going to go before you got stuck looking after me?"

"I didn't get stuck with you," he countered. "And I hadn't made any concrete plans at that point."

"Fine, but where do you think you'd have gone?"

"No further than Europe," he answered, moving to sort through the cards himself.

"I've never been abroad. I always had to stay with Mrs Figg when the Dursleys went away."

He scowled and wished he was at liberty to exact some real justice on behalf of the child. "No wonder your geography is so dismal."

"It was one picture!"

"Perhaps I should commit to rectifying your woeful lack of knowledge in the holidays."

"I don't need more lessons, thanks."

"I meant I'll take you on a trip. There's no use shutting you up for the holidays and it may well be safer abroad depending where we go."

Harry gave him an odd look but settled for choosing another postcard.

"Barcelona, summer before last." He settled himself on the opposite side of the kitchen table, making room for the toast amongst the mess of cards.

Harry had no end of questions for Severus and seemed utterly absorbed in the task. Nevertheless, he interrupted Harry's questions to ask one of his own. "Have you spoken with your friends regarding the prophecy?"

"No." He raised his eyebrows when Harry didn't elaborate, which earned him a heavy sigh. "I'm waiting for Ron."

"Ah, the ever mature Mr. Weasley."

"He's been my best friend since I was eleven. We'll get back to normal soon."

"True as that may be, whether or not you speak to your friends, you are aware that you can discuss it with me?"

"I know, but one thing at a time. Tournament first."

"Indeed. Off to bed with you then," he said with a smirk. "If you need to do this task you'll do it with a clear head and a good night's rest."

"Could I have some dreamless sleep then?" 

"Certainly." He handed the small vial over but stopped Harry leaving, taking him by the shoulders. "You will be fine."

H.P.

This was it. The Gryffindors cheered him when he appeared in the common room and by the time he got to breakfast it had definitely gotten old. What if he did get out of the tournament and they were mad at him for giving up? The Gryffindors were the only people left on his side – all the other houses were mad at him for stealing Cedric's thunder. As if he wanted even more attention.

"Oh, Harry, good luck," Hermione cried, wringing her hands anxiously. She looked almost as bad as he felt. Surely it would be wrong not to say anything, to give her some sort of clue that everything would be all right. Well, would probably be all right.

"You don't need to worry."

"I'm not worried," she denied shrilly. "And you shouldn't be worried either. There's bound to be all sorts of protective spells and Professor Dumbledore won't let anything happen to you," Hermione babbled in what she probably thought was a reassuring tone.

He bit his lip and darted a look over to McGonagall who was waiting at the end of the table. "Look, there might be no reason to worry at all. I'm not supposed to say anything, even to you, but... if there was any opportunity to get out of being a champion I would take it. Could you tell Ron that?"

"Why would you not be allowed to say...?"

"Tell Ron that if I could get out of this I would choose to. Tell him before it starts," he said urgently, backing further away from his seat towards McGonagall.

"Harry? Is something going to happen? Aren't you competing?"

"If I have to compete then I'll compete. I have to go, but remember to tell him."

"Hold on, 'if'?" she called out.

S.S.

"There's no need to be quite so anxious, Severus," the headmaster said, keeping pace with his own long strides as he made his way to the stands outside the enclosure.

"I didn't realise I was being so obvious."

"He's an extraordinary young man. Whatever happens today there is no need for you to worry."

"I know what he's capable of."

"Harry will be called out first so that I can ascertain if he has to compete before the tournament is under way."

"I'll keep an eye on the crowd if you make the announcement. See who is unduly disappointed," he replied shortly.

"I truly wish you would try to calm down. He will be fine."

"There was a time when I would have valued your input on how to deal with my ward but if the best you have to offer me is meaningless drivel then I'd rather not hear it."

"You and I haven't agreed on a single decision to do with young Harry," he replied with a hint of surprise.

"Because you did not want me to have him!" he couldn't stop himself from snapping. "I would have hoped, had I any inkling of this situation occurring, that I could have counted on you for support if I took in a child."

"You have done admirably well."

"I haven't the faintest idea how you've come to that judgement. I could be no better to him than his relatives."

"I know that's not true. You, after all, care for him deeply."

"That doesn't stop me making mistakes."

H.P.

"So, off you go, Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore has asked that you step out first."

Bagman pulled the tent flap aside and Harry nodded dumbly. He was going to have to walk out there hoping for the best but knowing there was a good chance he was going to get melted by a dragon. Hell, forget being burned to a crisp; if he messed up Snape would go spare. He'd probably think it was some stunt he pulled just to get himself killed by an incredibly huge and angry dragon.

It was more nerve wracking than walking out for quidditch, that much was certain. It even seemed like there were more people looming down from the high stands, even though he knew there were only a handful of extra students from the other two schools. The dragon drew in a great heaving breath and let out a resounding roar, no doubt in protest to the crowd's shouts as Harry exited the tent.

"Just over this line here, Harry," came a familiar voice at his side and he realised he had walked right up to Dumbledore. "Are you ready?"

"To face a dragon? No, but it probably won't kill me."

"And if you could take a step back." Harry nodded and backed out, face screwed up, anticipating some sort of magical barrier or pull or whatever it was that would force him to compete. His foot hit it with a resounding crack that he was sure carried to the judges' seats, despite the thunderous breathing of the dragon.

"I can't." His eyes sought out Snape in the teacher's seats, slightly wide-eyed with panic. Why did he let himself believe he might be able to get out of this? He couldn't make out Snape's expression from that distance. He gulped and took a breath, his eyes scanning the crowd and then coming to rest on the dragon in front of him. "I should, uh, get on with it then."

He took a breath and stepped forward before Dumbledore spoke again.

"Just a moment. If I may try something?" Harry frowned and glanced up quickly, taking his eyes off of the huge beast before him. The headmaster chanted something in Latin, sweeping his wand over Harry and then in a wide arc. Nothing happened, nothing at all that Harry could make out.

"And now if you could try once more to take a step back," he asked quietly as the crowd began to murmur in confusion.

He stepped back slowly, expecting the crack that had resounded throughout the stadium moments before. When nothing came he took another step back just to be sure, then heaved out a huge sigh of relief.

"Thank you," Harry gasped.

"Not at all."

"Headmaster, headmistress, judges," Dumbledore's voice boomed out across the stadium, past the dragon and into the crowd. "I find Harry Potter not to be constrained by the binding magical contract of the Triwizard Tournament. In the interests of fairness and safety, Harry Potter is forbidden from competing."

Harry couldn't help it. His face split into a wide grin, especially when a lone figure began clapping into the stunned silence. Harry followed the sound to where Hermione stood in the stands and gave her a relieved wave.

"Did you know? Harry James Potter, you should have told me," Hermione scolded him the moment he arrived in the stands.

"I didn't know for definite," he replied, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Tough break Harry–" Dean yelled down from the row above.

"They should have let you have a crack at it," a sixth-year Gryffindor he didn't know piped up.

"Did you tell Ron?" Harry asked, looking around. He thought he'd seen him here with Hermione.

"Yes, of course. He was here a moment ago."

"Krum's out!" someone yelled at a deafening volume beside him and Hermione turned quickly back to watch.

"Harry! I've been looking for you," Ron exclaimed over a collective 'Oooooh' of appreciation.

"I came right up here."

"Right, yeah," Ron nodded uncomfortably. "Look, I've been a prat. I don't think you put yourself in for this." He waved his hand wildly as if to indicate the tournament and whacked Colin Creevey over the head.

"I've only been saying that since my name came out of the goblet. Are you sure you don't want everything to go back to normal just because I can't compete?" 

"No, I'm glad you can't compete because someone must have had it in for you, putting your name in the goblet like that," Ron replied seriously.

Harry grinned and shook his head. "I'm glad you came to your senses, mate."

They turned back to watch Krum, silence descending between them.

"What do you reckon? I'd give Krum a seven," Harry announced as Krum held up a golden egg in victory.

"I'd give him a five just to even out Karkaroff's marks. He's like Snape with the Slytherins. That's blatant bias!" Ron roared.

Hermione glanced between the two boys. "That's it?" she erupted after a moment.

"Yeah," Harry replied, sharing a look with Ron.

Hermione gaped before turning back to watch Fleur. "The pair of you are so utterly and completely impossible."

Harry gasped and groaned along with the crowd through every disastrous spell and every shot of flame from the nostrils of each dragon. His feeling of elation grew as the tournament continued and not a single eye was on him.

S.S.

"You told me there was no other way to get him out of the tournament," Severus accused, slowing to walk in pace with the headmaster back up to the castle.

He wasn't sure whether to be angry at the deception or grateful that he'd fulfilled his promise.

"There was no way to know it would work. It was a spot of luck and some rather clever spell work if I do say so myself."

"Bagman doesn't seem happy and Moody is still behaving oddly," he reported, letting the issue drop.

"I want Alastor here. If there is a threat I feel better having another ally in the castle."

"He's unhinged and that makes him a liability."

"He's unconventional and his paranoia is not entirely unfounded," the headmaster corrected him. "It is for the remainder of the year and a measure I'm taking for young Mr. Potter."

"Don't use Harry to manipulate me."

"Would you like a word with him? He has no reason to leave the tower for the remainder of term now that the tournament is over."

"Yes."

Severus slipped into a disused classroom before the flood of children returning to the castle reached the corridor. The headmaster lingered at the door for a moment. "Harry enjoys Christmas, perhaps ensure that he has a good one."

"Your advice is to let him spend Christmas with his godfather or have the Weasleys been asking for him again?"

"I meant let him celebrate the season. Let him have a tree and stockings and Christmas dinner."

"As if I would not."

"Then perhaps my input is unnecessary. You know what you're doing. The Weasleys are asking after him but I don't think he should be seen to be away from his relatives until after Christmas."

H.P.

"If I could have a word, Mr Potter," Professor Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling madly, reminding Harry more of that grandfatherly figure he'd appeared to be when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

Harry bade a quick goodbye to Ron and Hermione and followed him into a nearby classroom. Before he could ask what was going on he caught sight of Snape looking far more relaxed and smug than he'd seen him since term began.

"Sir! I got out of it," Harry exclaimed completely unnecessarily, grinning widely.

"I saw. Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Well, you saw me come out. Mr Bagman said Professor Dumbledore asked for me to go first and straight away all I saw was that massive dragon. I almost didn't notice Professor Dumbledore..." Snape listened to his story with a peculiar look on his face. "So I stepped back but it was like I hit a wall. What?"

"Did I say anything? Continue." Harry got the odd feeling that he was being teased.

"Um, that was when Professor Dumbledore did the spell to get me out of it," he finished quickly, a little embarrassed to have been talking to Snape as if the headmaster hadn't been there.

"A little spell work, nothing terribly exciting. I amended the contract somewhat."

"I thought it was binding or permanent or something?" Harry interjected.

"The spell had already been tampered with. I assume that made it easier to alter," Snape suggested with a questioning glance at the headmaster.

"Yes, it certainly made a difference."

"Thank you, sir."

"You are quite welcome, Harry. Enjoy the rest of term," he said, before leaving the pair of them alone.

"Well done."

Harry blinked in confusion when he couldn't detect any sarcasm.

"I didn't do anything."

"I know and I couldn't be more impressed," Snape said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and again Harry had the strange feeling again that Snape was teasing him. "Occlumency is cancelled for the rest of term."

"Really? I'm still rubbish though."

"There is no believable excuse for you to be out of the tower in the evenings. Not only that but the Dark Lord will be sorely disappointed that whatever his plan was, he has been thwarted. He may well try to take it out on you. I see no reason to make you more vulnerable."

"Hold on, does this mean I'm not staying at yours any more?"

"Not for the rest of this term. It is only two weeks until Christmas, so there's no need to look so disappointed."

"I'm not," Harry replied indignantly. He cleared his throat awkwardly not wanting to leave without saying anything. "Thanks for looking out for me though."

"Go," Snape replied, waving away his thanks. "If you notice anyone behaving unusually, tell me. And stay with your friends; don't wander off alone."

He waved his goodbye and slipped back out into the crowd, a fully fledged smile emerging. It was funny how in just one day everything felt like it was coming together again.

"Lucky escape, Potter," Malfoy sneered and Harry whipped round to see him standing, uncharacteristically alone, amongst the milling students.

"Sod off, Malfoy," he muttered, looking over the banister and spotting Ron and Hermione waiting amongst a gaggle of Gryffindors on the floor below. He was in such a good mood that not even he could ruin it. There was nothing he could say that could burst the little bubble of contentment that he could feel welling up inside. He managed to put one foot on the stair when Malfoy spoke once more.

"Luck won't always be on your side. Inciampare."

"Wha–" His question was cut short as the wind was knocked out of him and he tipped forward. He met the stairs once, twice with a resounding crack and a third time with slam. His vision faded to black with the screams and shouts of the surrounding students echoing in his ears and through the hall.