Chapter 3: Avoiding the tournament

"Sit down, Mr Potter," said Snape after the Headmaster had left. Harry sat. There was no point being belligerent about a simple thing.

"I'm going to start at the beginning. I'm going to make some simple statements. You are going to agree or disagree with them. These are factual statements, not opinions. Does the premise make sense?"

Harry nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. He didn't know whether he was angry, upset or mortified at having to apologise to Snape.

"Voldemort did not die the night your… parents died."

Harry's eyes widened. When he said the beginning, Harry didn't think he meant it. He nodded.

"A verbal answer," said Snape. It didn't quite sound like a reprimand, but it was close.

"Yes, sir," answered Harry.

"His soul, or whatever is left of it is out there somewhere trying to find a host. Much like he used Quirrell."

"OK," said Harry. He didn't know that for sure, but he'd believe that was true.

"There are Death Eaters, the army of Voldemort, free, because not all were not sentenced to Azkaban."

Harry would like to have asked why Snape sounded hollow when he said that, but had the common sense not to.

"Yes, sir."

"A number of these Death Eaters would quite happily kill you in cold blood if they could get away with it."

Harry inhaled sharply.

"I never said mentoring wouldn't be educational, Mr Potter. I take it that's a yes, but not a thought you've ever dwelt on."

Harry managed a nod, but not out of rudeness or apathy.

"You are educated in a school of which everyone knows the location. It is warded, but your location during term time is known."

Harry licked his lips. He wasn't feeling angry any more. Whatever he was feeling had turned into unease. "Why are…"

Snape interrupted his question. Not viciously, just deliberately. "You may ask questions soon. Currently you are agreeing or disagreeing."

"Yes, sir," murmured Harry.

"The staff here, all of us, contrary to what you sometimes think, take your personal safety very importantly."

"Yes, sir."

"This tournament allows more people onto Hogwarts grounds. They are strangers. There is therefore more risk to your personal safety."

"Yes, sir."

"You being added as a competitor has increased that risk substantially more than that."

"Yes, sir."

"You did not add your name to the goblet. Someone else did. Therefore, we can assume that person means you harm."

"Yes, sir," said Harry. He wasn't sure where this was going, but it was quite calming to have someone explain things, even if that person were Snape.

"The person who added your name has some form of agenda. At some point in the tournament they have a plan that will be detrimental to your health."

Harry opened his mouth to argue that that wasn't a given, but he couldn't in all honesty guarantee it.

"Yes, sir."

"And on balance, the likelihood that the person who put your name in the goblet is a Death Eater is quite high. Nearly 100 percent in fact."

"Who else might want to…" Harry didn't finish his own question.

"Unless there's someone out there who's offended you've not signed their autograph book?" asked Snape snarkily.

Harry knew that wasn't a dig. He looked at Snape's face. There wasn't disdain in his eyes. That wasn't a cutting remark. That can't have been humour, surely?

Harry nodded slowly. "Death Eater."

"So therefore, the best thing you can do is the exact opposite of what people expect. You have been entered into a competition. While you have to compete to the best of your, and this is not an insult, limited abilities, you do not have to aim to win. The Headmaster and I have a current theory that one of the tasks will be made dangerous enough to kill you. We need you to participate safely. Given the nature of the tasks this won't involve you winning because you won't be able to do both."

Harry was silent. He could follow the logic. He didn't feel angry like he did earlier. Things had been explained to him. Snape also wasn't rushing him for answers. The man was just watching him. It was unnerving.

Eventually Harry answered. "Yes, sir."

"As you know," said Snape, "The first task tests your courage. It is supposed to be a surprise for you on the day. I am a Slytherin, Mr Potter. While Gryffindor bravery is all well and good, I would find out what the task is in advance. I can guarantee that Karkaroff will be doing that for Krum. I am relatively sure Madame Maxime is ambitious enough to do anything for her champion to win. That leaves you and Mr Diggory. Do you think he will attempt to find out?"

"I have no idea, sir," replied Harry.

"Do you think the Death Eaters expect you both to cheat, Mr Potter?"

Harry inhaled sharply.

"Yes, Mr Potter, mentioning them by name does concentrate the mind, doesn't it? Do you think you are expected to cheat, Mr Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"Then don't. Walk out to the first task armed with your Fourth Year ignorance. I will talk through with you spells you know how to do, especially those things to keep you safe. But as per the rules of the tournament, I will not help you learn anything new."

"May I ask a question?" asked Harry. He had a question and Snape wouldn't like it.

"Such manners! I presume your question holds great offense."

Harry blushed. That was far too obvious. "Why are you playing by the rules?"

"Because I'm a cheating Slytherin you mean?" Harry's face deepened in colour further. "The Headmaster and I do not know all the details of the magical agreement. The goblet of fire is an ancient ritual. Some details have been lost to time. One of which is the penalty to your magic. The tournament has rules. Participants are held to them by their magic. The rule to not get help from your professors is new, but the magical binding is old. Don't mess with magic, Mr Potter."

"But how will the others do it?"

"Help from a professor is very vague. What the participant finds out in genuine ignorance of the source would not be penalised. Example: Karkaroff finds out the first task. He tells another Durmstrang student and they casually mention that topic to Krum. It is a very easy rule to bypass," said Snape casually.

"So someone is going to expect me to cheat?"

"Or someone is going to cheat for you."

"What do you mean? Tell me the task?"

"Absolutely. Someone wants you in this competition. They want you close to the action and they want you to die, Mr Potter."

Harry swallowed hard. Snape had a very cold, direct way of spelling things out. McGonagall would have beaten around the bush. In a weird way, Harry appreciated Snape not doing so. He was still a snarky git, but this session wasn't going totally badly.

"How do I avoid finding out?"

"You grew up in the muggle world, Mr Potter. You were taught to not take sweets from strangers, and not to speak to strangers. Well now you have to apply that thinking to your friends and acquaintances. Don't talk about the task. If anyone brings it up with you, tell them to stop. Short of a banner in the Gryffindor common room saying 'The First Task is...' I think that should get you to the task in suitable ignorance."

"What if it's a member of staff?"

"For example?"

"Professor McGonagall, or the Headmaster."

"There are only three members of staff that I fully trust to not say anything out of turn. I'm not saying anyone else is out to get you, Hogwarts staff are vetted very carefully, I'm just saying that people sometimes talk when they shouldn't, thinking it is for your own wellbeing. You may trust Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and the Headmaster. No-one else. If anyone else asks you about the task, be polite, tell them you aren't supposed to talk about the tasks and then tell me. I will then ask them nicely to not do that again."

Nicely. Harry couldn't hold back a smirk.

"On Monday we will discuss what spells you know from the curriculum so far and whether they are defensive or offensive. You will only have your wand. Spells are all you'll have. I reiterate, Mr Potter. I won't be telling you anything you don't already know. Try to stay out of trouble between now and then, and remember you have three feet of homework due for my class tomorrow."

"Hermioneeeeeeee!" cried Harry, running into the common room.

Hermione looked up from her Runes essay. "What have you forgotten to do?"

Harry skidded to a halt in front of her. "I'm actually dead."

"You haven't done your Potions essay, have you?" she asked with a wince.

Harry shook his head.

"It's 8:30pm now, there's at least two hours' research to get something not horrific down, and it'll take an hour to write it up. But it won't be good."

Harry went to bed at midnight. He'd only managed a foot and a half and it was pretty abysmal. Snape was going to kill him.

Severus ignored Potter in class on Thursday. After his outburst at the beginning of Wednesday's session, the boy hadn't been a total imbecile. He'd listened and asked sensible questions. More importantly, the boy seemed to understand the danger he was in. At least, the amount of understanding Severus wanted him to know. Telling a fourteen year old the actual truth would be cruel.

Severus ignored Potter in today's lesson because Severus stepped a fine line with his Slytherins. He ruled his house absolutely, but in exchange he did make it seem like they could get away with things in classes just because they were in his house. If the other staff were honest, they'd admit that he did this because they penalised his house unfairly and unconsciously. It was a constant cycle.

It was an expectation that Severus didn't like Gryffindor. So he didn't like them publicly. He did, however, mark their work honestly. He reluctantly gave Miss Granger an O in many of her essays. Reluctantly not because she was a Gryffindor, that was the facade, but reluctantly because she had no flair for the subject. She worked too hard. She believed Potions a Science when in fact it was an Art. Art is hard to teach and even harder to learn. Very few students had flair for Potions. Nott had it in this class. Malfoy didn't. He simply had the weight of the Malfoy ancestry and a large library at home. Greengrass had it, and Brown from Gryffindor. And, given Potter rarely paid any attention, yet more than once handed in an acceptable Potion, Severus had to accept that Potter had some talent with Potions.

And that's what made him annoyed with Potter in general. From the first day, when the boy had been doodling instead of listening, then messing about with the red head, Potter hadn't taken the subject seriously. That was why Severus picked on Potter.

Severus had had more than one conversation with Dumbledore about not picking on Potter. Severus had once made the mistake of comparing him to James. Albus' lecture hadn't been short and contained the phrase 'act your age'. Severus had subsequently analysed why he picked on Potter, had looked at the boy's talent and had found his effort wanting. That was why he treated Potter in class how he did.

Today Severus ignored Potter. He was not about to be seen by his house being nice to a Gryffindor, ignoring the boy was a step up for Potter. And, to be honest, the boy had brewed a half decent potion without reminders of what he was doing right or wrong. Potter had made an effort. Would wonders never cease!

Therefore Severus was genuinely enraged when Potter handed in only half his homework, written in barely legible scrawl. Severus had even reminded the boy yesterday evening to finish it. This had the look of a first draft, something Potter must have done days ago. Yet the boy hadn't made the effort to finish his work or even check it through yesterday evening.

The boy might as well have slapped him in the face. Severus had gone around the room collecting in the homework. Potter's was the last to collect given which workbench he sat at. Even Weasley had handed in something that vaguely looked respectable.

"Potter," said Snape icily. The room froze. That was the tone he reserved for the worst offences.

The boy did not meet his gaze.

"What. Is. This?" The Slytherins had turned to watch the show. The Gryffindors had backed away. Longbottom next to Potter had frozen.

Snape heard a sniggger from the Slytherins.

"GET OUT!" he snarled at the rest of the room. They fled, the Slytherins in shock. They expected entertainment, especially given the fun of last week.

The room was empty, the door closed.

Severus was livid. He was rarely as livid as the students thought. Severus had worked on his voice, his appearance, his style. But while his blood pressure did take a beating during class time trying to stop them all blowing each other up, he rarely did anything other than put on a persona. His Slytherins knew this, because he took it off in the evenings.

Potter had had a glimpse of that yesterday. Severus being slightly less guarded. And look how he'd been repaid.

"I'm sorry," whispered Potter. "I truly am. I meant to start it last weekend, forgot, and then after Monday I really forgot and I remembered yesterday when..."

Severus cut him off. "Get out." Severus had got a grip on his rage. The moment had passed. He was no longer angry, he was disappointed. Genuinely disappointed. It had been genuine anger. Now it was genuine disappointment.

"I'm sorry."

Severus pointed at the door.

"How bad is your detention?" asked Hermione at lunch.

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it.

"I take it he's extra annoyed because of yesterday?" Hermine asked, not mentioning mentoring by name with other ears listening.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come in," said McGonagall. It was Thursday evening after dinner.

Minerva looked at Harry's face. That was a serious amount of guilt. Her lions were rarely sneaky about hiding things. Even the twins. When they were caught they were caught.

"What have you done?" asked Minerva. It was easier that way.

Harry was silent. Minerva thought for a moment. Oh dear.

"What have you said to Professor Snape?" Minerva had seen Severus at dinner. He hadn't been pleased. Not angry, but something else. Something had offended him. She realised that 'something' was standing in front of her desk.

"I didn't do his homework."

Minerva was confused. That was going to require a bit more explanation. Many students didn't do Severus's homework every now and then.

"You're going to have to explain that just a tiny bit more than that, Mr Potter."

"You know he's mentoring me?" Minerva nodded. "Well, the last thing he said yesterday was a reminder that I had homework due today."

"That was… kind of him," replied Minerva, still lost and reaching for suitable words.

Harry sighed and got a grip.

"You know I have mentoring with him on Monday and Wednesday evening? Well, he wasn't himself. Well perhaps he was. I mean he was even reasonable on Monday morni..." Harry cut himself off and coloured. Yeah, not going there. "Well, I yelled at him."

Minerva's eyebrow raised. The boy was alive and standing in her office. Severus hadn't turned him into Potions ingredients. Perhaps she should buy the man a bottle of something nice by way of a thank you.

"The Headmaster came in right as I was shouting at Snape." Minerva looked at him meaningfully. "Professor Snape," Harry corrected.

"The Headmaster told me he was disappointed that I was the one yelling and that Professor Snape could teach me things. Then he left and the rest of the session went surprisingly well."

"And you didn't do his homework and now he's angry with you?" Minerva questioned. "That's not entirely it, is it, Mr Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "You know when he normally talks to me, and the other Gryffindor's in class, he's well, him?" Minerva knew what Harry meant, but wasn't about to admit it. "Well yesterday evening he wasn't like that. He was..." Harry searched for a word, "Nicer."

Oh dear. Minerva was glad she was sitting down. She knew Severus was a perfectly reasonable human being with his house. He was different outside of class. He had his Bat of the Dungeons persona and he was very good at it. But only his house ever saw human Severus, and the staff in private.

Minerva would have to apologise to Severus. She had assumed he wouldn't take mentoring Harry seriously. He had done and now he saw Potter throwing that back in his face. Admittedly through forgetfulness, not maliciousness, or even deliberateness, but Severus deserved more respect than that.

"I see. You don't have to explain more. I understand. You do understand how badly you messed up, don't you?" Harry nodded guiltily.

"Professor Snape didn't give you a detention did he?"

Harry shook his head. "That's how I know I screwed up."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, a Hogsmeade day. You will spend your day from breakfast until dinner doing whatever jobs Mr Filch needs doing."

"Yes, Professor."

"I assume you are going to redo the homework?"

"I've already started. He didn't ask me redo it either."

"I will speak to Professor Snape. I will explain your genuine forgetfulness. Hypothetically speaking Mr Potter, what if Professor Snape has a different kind of punishment in mind?"

Harry swallowed and shrugged.

"No," said Severus, seeing who was entering his office.

"I am not supplicating on behalf of Mr Potter, Severus. I want to know how you are."

"Disappointed," said Snape. "Now that you know that, we can stop talking about it."

"Albus won't take no for an answer. You're stuck with mentoring hjm. You can't cancel your sessions, you know that."

"I don't have to. Potter will be getting the Bat of the Dungeons. Potter will arrive, I will set him a task pertinent to staying alive. He will do it. He will leave. I do not see why I should put myself out, Minerva."

"He knows how badly he screwed up, Severus. I didn't have to explain it to him. He genuinely forgot to do the work. He would not have not deliberately not done the work. He knows you made an effort with him. He is genuinely sorry. I also wanted to apologise to you, Severus. I'd assumed you'd not take mentoring Mr Potter seriously. You have done. I am sorry."

"I will see him on Monday in our meeting because Albus requires it. I make no promises to be nice."

On Saturday Harry spent the day on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor. He didn't know that McGonagall had asked Filch to set that task. Something labour intensive and mindless. Plenty of opportunity to think about how badly he'd screwed up.

Harry ate dinner quickly then went up to the library. Saturday evening there were no students in the library. He had the place to himself. He'd taken his Potions book and all his previous homeworks for the year. At one a week that was nine essays. Snape had provided feedback on all of them. Harry had ignored the feedback at the time, he'd simply read the grade at the bottom and stuffed it in his bag.

First he rewrote his homework from this week, properly this time. Then he spent some time trying to copy it out neatly so it was legible. Harry knew his handwriting was atrocious. It'd been bad enough with a pencil and ballpoint at primary school. Quills were just asking for trouble.

After that, he rewrote the first essay of the year about Skele-gro. That took the rest of the evening. Madam Pince kicked him out at 10:30.

Next day Harry returned early. He'd rewritten another three essays before lunch. After lunch he did another two and after dinner he did the final one.

He then gathered the essays into a pile and picked up a fresh piece of parchment.

Dear Professor Snape,

Harry had no idea what to write next. How do you write an apology to the one teacher you have hated up to now but you know is trying to keep you alive against the odds, who you were rude to and now you're feeling guilty?

That took the rest of the evening and three attempts. He bundled up his essays, with the letter on top and slid it all under Snape's office door.