Dear Sirius,

I don’t know if you’ve been getting my letters or not. I’ve sent a few now but I haven’t heard anything so I don’t know if Hedwig hasn’t been able to find you or if she’s been getting intercepted. I’ll try again and I hope to hear from you soon. A lot has been happening since my last letter.

The Triwizard Tournament is happening this year, I think I’ve already mentioned that. Well, what I haven’t told you is that I’m a Champion. Somehow, someone put my name in and I was chosen. I have to compete and I am so scared, Sirius. This has to be the most dangerous thing I’ve ever gotten myself into since I started school.

I’ve got some help though. The twins and Neville are being really helpful and supportive, which is more than I can say for pretty much everyone else. Oddly, Draco Malfoy has helped a little bit too. He’s changed this year, especially since…

Right, I haven’t told you yet. I don’t know if it’s been in the Prophet or not. In any case, you should know. A couple weeks ago there was a Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade. Ron was killed. It’s been really hard and I miss him so much. It’s been even harder because Hermione blames me, a lot of people do. Sometimes I think they’re right, but Professor Snape’s helped with that.

I know you don’t like him but he’s actually been a lot of help since Ron died. He’s helping me with the tournament too. We still don’t get along all that well but it’s something and he really has been pretty great actually. Trust me, I’m surprised too. I never would’ve expected him to be on my side and helping.

I have to go. It’s Ron’s funeral today.

I hope this reaches you and that you’re okay. Answer soon.

Harry 

He folded the paper, ignoring the couple of smudges from his few tears when he wrote about Ron. He was sure Sirius wouldn’t be happy hearing about his interactions with Snape or even Malfoy, but he felt they were important. Things were changing in his relationships with the two Slytherins and he wasn’t hating the changes. They were surreal, for sure, but it was all kind of…comforting.

“Harry.” He looked up to see Fred and George in the dorm door, serious and dressed in somber black. “Time to go.”

Ron’s funeral was finally being held after two weeks. Apparently, the wait had been because of Mrs. Weasley who, in her despair, had been refusing to have the memorial service. Based on that, Harry was sure the entire thing was Mr. Weasley’s doing.

He put his letter aside and followed the twins, straightening the black jacket Professor Snape had lent him. They joined the crowd moving through the Entrance Hall, all heading outside where the funeral was taking place. There was no casket as Ron’s body had been brought back to the Burrow to be buried in the family plot. Instead there were about half a dozen pictures around the podium where speeches would be given. Hundreds of chairs had been set up by the large oak tree at the Black Lake’s edge and the grounds were full of people. He was glad they were having the service outside. Ron would’ve hated a stuffy, inside affair.

He sat in the second row behind the entire Weasley clan, beside Neville, and a few seats to the right of Hermione. He and Neville gave each other sad smiles. Harry looked to his right at the other area of seats. They were filling up with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. He found his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when, at the very back of the seats, he spotted Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy standing silently and watching the proceedings. He was surprised they had been let onto the grounds, let alone that they had come to the funeral at all.

Like everyone, as Harry was discovering, maybe the Malfoys needed a second look, maybe they weren’t what he had thought they were the last few years. He turned back when Dumbledore began to speak.

It was a touching event. Dumbledore gave a great speech that was followed by professors, a few students, and Mr. Weasley. Mostly everyone shed at least a few tears. By the end, each Weasley, Hermione, Harry, and most of Gryffindor house were crying steadily. Most expected Harry to say something but he refused. Between the anger over him being a Champion and those that blamed him for Ron’s death, he knew he wouldn’t be well received. Plus, he wanted to keep his memories of Ron between him and Ron as they were meant to be.

After some time, the service came to an end and everyone began to slowly move about. Harry stood and took a few steps only to stop and watch as Malfoy approached his parents. He had no idea what was being said but at one point Narcissa dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, Lucius put a hand on his son’s shoulder, and Draco’s hand appeared to wipe at his eyes. Harry blushed and looked away when Lucius suddenly met his eyes.

He was about to continue on his way when suddenly Mrs. Weasley appeared in front of him. His heart and stomach lurched at the sight of her. He was sure he had never seen anyone look so haunted and destroyed. She looked worse than Sirius had in that horrible mug shot in the Prophet last year. He was about to speak when his cheek was struck hard. His head remained to the side for a few seconds, his cheek stinging as he processed just what had taken place.

Tears filled his eyes and he turned his head to look at her again only to be struck once more. The tears spilled over as he found hands gently landing on his shoulders and pulling him back away from Mrs. Weasley, and against a solid chest. He glanced up at Snape and back to Mrs. Weasley who was being restrained and led away by Mr. Weasley and Charlie.

“Thank you for coming, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said quietly. “We know how much you must miss Ron. You were a great friend to him.”

“He was the best,” Harry whispered.

Mr. Weasley’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile before he turned to follow his wife and second oldest. Harry felt a gentle tug on his shoulders and he allowed himself to be led through the crowds by the professor. He instantly blocked everything out though he was vaguely aware of Snape talking to someone and fingers ghosting over his hand. Soon they were back inside the castle and then he was being pushed into the usual chair. His gaze dropped to his lap as the sudden silence caused his focus to go to his burning cheek. He just sighed sadly, keeping his eyes down.

He hardly reacted when Snape knelt in front of him and pressed a nice, cool cloth to his cheek, easing the sting. The gesture and quiet gave him a moment to realize how far things really had come. There would’ve been a time not too long ago when he would’ve taken every movement from Snape as a threat. Now he accepted the man’s help almost without question.

“It is not your fault,” Snape interrupted quietly, still holding the cloth against Harry’s cheek.

Harry met the dark eyes. They used to seem so harsh, angry, heartless, hateful…but they weren’t. They were calm, calculated, and other things he didn’t wish to name in case he was embarrassingly wrong. Whatever it all was, it was not the Snape he recalled dealing with in previous years. Something great had changed.

“I know,” he finally said and, as their eyes remained locked, they both knew something monumental had shifted in their relationship.

Harry growled loudly in frustration and threw his wand on the floor, dropping down beside it. The First Task was the next day and he was still failing miserably at the Summoning Charm. The twins, Neville, Lee, and even Malfoy had been trying to help him with it alongside Snape. Despite the help and practicing every spare moment, he still had yet to succeed in summoning a pillow from across the room, let alone his broom from Gryffindor Tower to the Quidditch Pitch. He ran his hands through his hair angrily, tugging slightly.

“What do you expect to accomplish down there?” Snape drawled and Harry glared at him. Some things between them had changed, yes, but Snape’s prickly personality and sharp tongue were not among them.

“Invisibility,” Harry spat. “Maybe I don’t have to compete if they can’t find me.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “You’ll need that cloak of yours to accomplish that.” Harry glared again. “If you are going to be forced to compete, why not attempt to do well?”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing with this stupid charm?” Harry said. “Besides, I’m more focused on staying alive than scoring big points.”

“A focus that may not amount to much if you do not learn this charm.”

“I’m trying!” Harry yelled and then sighed at the man’s sharp look. “I’m sorry but I really am trying. I just can’t seem to get it.”

Snape sighed himself. “Up. You won’t be any closer to getting it by sitting down there pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Harry said even as he grabbed his wand and got to his feet.

“I assure you, you are,” Snape said, moving to stand behind the young Gryffindor. “Now practice the wand movement a few times.”

Harry nodded and did so, moving his wand in the correct way over and over.

“Take a deep breath, relax.”

Harry did, closing his eyes briefly.

“Picture what you want, your intention, think of it clearly.”

Taking even, steady breaths, Harry pictured the pillow soaring towards him and put the image on repeat. Keeping the scene in his head, he focused on the pillow.

“Accio pillow!” he said, waving his wand.

Nothing happened. He felt his frustration rise again, but pushed it down, keeping his focus. He took a few breaths to calm himself.

You can do it, mate.

“Accio pillow!” he said again and was shocked when he found himself having to catch the pillow before it hit him in the face. He stared at the pillow for a few moments before turning to look at Snape.

There was unmistakable approval in the man’s dark eyes and Harry found himself smiling.

“I heard Ron,” he admitted.

Snape hummed. “Still assisting you, I see.”

Harry smiled at him and nodded, his eyes slightly damp.

“Good. Now see if he’ll help you again.”

Harry chuckled and tossed the pillow back to where it had been. He readied himself again, regaining focus.

With a breath, he said, “Accio pillow!” and had to catch it again.

Snape’s lips twitched and tilted into what Harry knew was the man’s smile.

And so, Harry remained in Snape’s guest bedroom, summoning pillows, books, and even the man’s cloak to ensure he had the charm perfected.

He just hoped he would be able to make it work over a long distance.

Harry watched as the stands filled with the spectators of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. He heard distant roars and knew it was the dragons. He sighed and stepped into the champions’ tent. The others were already there along with Barty Crouch who was talking in hushed tones with Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. He walked over to stand next to Cedric who gave him a small smile and nod of acknowledgement and luck.

There was no time to talk, however, as Crouch and the school heads came over, arranging the four champions into a circle. Crouch then went around with a small bag and they all chose their dragons, the lack of reactions reminding Harry that the others had already known what the First Task would be as well.

Harry’s eyes fell shut and his heart pounded painfully when the Hungarian Horntail landed in his hand. He had talked to Hagrid about dragons to gain more information and Hagrid, with no filter, naturally told Harry about the exact dragons being used in the task, ensuring he repeated just how dangerous the Horntail was compared to nearly all others. It should not have surprised him that he got the Horntail, not with his luck. His hope of survival had just severely dropped. He watched as all the heads left, noting that he never received even a glance from Dumbledore. Cedric approached the field entrance as the first champion to fight. Harry jumped at the cannon fire and, while he hoped for the success and safety of the others, also hoped that it would be a while before he went as he was to go last.

However, his turn came quicker than he’d hoped and he soon found himself stepping out into the field. He moved slowly, getting a look at his terrain and also hoping to spot his vicious opponent. Cheers around him eventually ceased, relieving him of the distraction. He looked up briefly, first spotting the twins among the Gryffindors, Malfoy in the Slytherins, and Snape with the staff. He felt his heart pound again as he recognized worry in the man’s eyes and even spotted fear in Malfoy’s face. The expressions gave Harry mixed feelings. He felt warm realizing there was an adult who cared at least a tiny bit about him. The looks confused him as well because he never would’ve taken Snape or Malfoy as the types to really care, especially not about him. Last, the expressions terrified him because he knew, normally, Snape would never let any amount of worry show.

He lost his time to consider it all any longer as screams suddenly erupted in the stands and he found himself being thrown through the air by a spiked tail. He landed on a far boulder hard, feeling his shoulder crunch slightly at the impact.

He just knew he would hear about that later from Snape and Moody for not being aware of his surroundings.

He looked up and found he was staring into the murderous eyes of his Hungarian Horntail. She was crouched low over her eggs, hiding them from the threat she perceived. His eyes widened and he scrambled up and behind the boulder as the dragon’s mouth opened. He knew exactly what was coming and winced as the boulder seared against his back. He dove forward when the tail came around and shattered his shield.

Seeing fire was coming his way again, he clambered to his feet and raced away, sliding down a small embankment as flames flew over his head. He remained still in his new but still temporary hiding place, trying to catch his breath and steady his fear-ridden heart.

He had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea how he was supposed to do this and survive. He was fourteen! He had just learned a Summoning Charm—finally—barely twenty-four hours ago, and he was supposed to outsmart or defeat a dragon?

Wand, Harry!

He glanced up even as he knew the voice was in his head and, for a moment, he could’ve sworn he saw Ron in the front of the Gryffindor stands.

Right.

He had just learned the Summoning Charm and he had done so for this specifically. He pulled out his wand and pointed in the general direction of the school.

He took a deep breath and shouted, “Accio Firebolt!”

He put his wand away and pressed himself against the small slope behind him, feeling it shake as the dragon searched for him, letting out menacing roars.

“Look out!”

Several shouts shook him and he looked over just in time to see the Horntail peek around a giant boulder. He ducked and rolled as fire flew at him once again. It was as he was getting up that he spotted his broom zooming over the staff stands. He pushed to his feet, climbed onto a boulder, and jumped off right over top of the dragon, landing perfectly on his broom. He zipped around as her tail and fire followed him almost relentlessly. Despite her best, desperate efforts to burn him alive, she remained crouched over her nest. He thought fast and knew he would have to expect a hefty lecture from Snape for this.

With another deep breath, he flew lower and approached the Horntail’s face. He quickly pulled his wand again and hit the beast in the eye with a Stinging Hex. It roared, sending an unintentional ball of fire in his direction, but it had the desired effect and he took off with the dragon and its broken chain behind him.

They left the field and wound through the castle, taking out stone, shingles, statues, and even a few windows. Receiving a sharp hit on his arm with the tail, he flew off and nearly lost his grip on his broom, making him think he would be joining the crashed dragon in the lake. However, reminiscent of his quick moves in both first and second year when he almost fell off his broom, he swung himself up and headed, painfully, back to the transformed Quidditch Pitch.

Once there, he dismounted, fell to his knees in residual fear, relief, and pain, and simply rolled the golden egg towards him with his uninjured arm. He heard the cheers of the spectators and could hear the judge and announcer, Ludo Bagman speaking, but heard no specific words. He cared about nothing except that he was done and had survived.

Harry sighed tiredly as he awaited Madam Pomfrey’s treatment inside the medical tent. She was currently readying all she needed to treat the most injured champion, Cedric Diggory. While Harry just had a badly wrenched shoulder, several cuts, and very minor burns on his back, Cedric’s entire left side had received nasty burns. Even Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons only had a gash on her arm and Viktor Krum from Durmstrang had escaped unscathed.

He looked around at the others as he waited, feeling small pangs in his chest. As Fleur waited, her little sister had joined her, helping her pass the time and ensuring her older sister was alright. Beside him, Cedric’s father was with his son. He couldn’t hear what they were saying perfectly but, from what he did get, his father was beyond proud and loved Cedric so much.

He frowned sadly. There would’ve been a time when Ron and Hermione would’ve fought their way into the tent to be with him. Now…he sat alone. He had no one to sit with him and tell him they were proud or worry over his injuries. He couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius would be there with him if the man wasn’t on the run. Last year, he would’ve thought there wouldn’t be a doubt that Sirius would be there. Now, however, after all the unanswered letters, he wasn’t so sure.

So, he found himself very surprised when his curtain was pulled back and Draco Malfoy was standing there.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry said, frowning.

Malfoy shrugged. “Seeing if you were still alive. Knowing you, you would’ve survived a great dragon only to trip on a rock and crack your head open.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed but then he recognized the amusement in Malfoy’s face, and he gave a small smile. “Have to make sure I die stupidly so everyone remembers that the ‘Boy Who Lived’ was a total klutz.”

Malfoy smirked. “That’s a given if anyone’s ever seen you fly.”

“Like you’re any better. Second year ringing any bells?”

Malfoy scowled half-heartedly. “That Bludger was cursed and after you.”

Harry chuckled. “Cursed by your old house elf.”

“That you tricked my father into freeing.”

Harry shrugged his uninjured shoulder, still smiling. “I wasn’t his biggest fan.”

“No one is,” Malfoy said and they both laughed.

“Alright, Mr. Potter, finally your turn,” Madam Pomfrey said, coming to his side.

“See you later, Potter,” Malfoy said and headed out.

“Malfoy,” Harry said before he left and the Slytherin turned around. “Thanks.”

Malfoy just gave a half smile and left.

Harry sat, gritting his teeth as Pomfrey forced his pained shoulder to move and hissed when she examined his burnt back. Though quite distracted, he still found he stared in shock when Snape came to his side.

“You’re here,” he said dumbly and Snape raised an eyebrow. He blushed and stuttered, “I-I mean, o-obviously you’re here. I mean, why, er, y-you don’t—“

“Ensuring you are not too badly injured after your stunts,” Snape interrupted.

“Stunts?” Harry repeated, outraged. He had been trying to stay alive!

“Losing focus and letting the dragon hit you. Getting burnt. Jumping over the dragon onto your broom. Taunting it. Allowing it to chase you and nearly bring you into the lake.” Snape paused and looked at his student’s blush. “Yes, Mr. Potter, stunts.”

“Well, I finished the task,” Harry argued weakly, “and I’m still alive.”

“Indeed you are as, in spite of all of your stunts,” Snape trailed off again for a moment, “it was well done.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he gazed after the professor as the man headed out of the medical tent.

“See you tomorrow evening, Mr. Potter,” he said before disappearing outside.