Chapter 5:

Disgusted with everything, Harry threw the egg in his trunk and kicked the lid closed.

Bagman had caught up with Harry just before the castle and had given him his egg and told him about the clue. Harry had taken the egg and put it in his dorm.

Today, annoyed with everything and everyone, he'd caught sight of the egg again. See saw red. He just wanted to be left alone.

Over the weekend, anger turned into depression. He tuned out the insults. He was sort of used to doing that now, but it was constant. He ended up going for nearly every meal early, getting in a couple of bites and leaving when others arrived. He avoided everyone.

He went up to the sixth floor classroom where he and Hermione came on Tuesday. He'd brought parchment and a quill.

Dear Sirius,

I'm sorry I've not written for a couple of weeks. The task was yesterday. I'm fine. I promise. The task was dragons. We all got a dragon each. One of its clutch of eggs was a golden egg. We had to collect the golden egg. A Hungarian Horntail isn't pleasant. I used a smoke screen, a Transfiguration, a dancing pineapple (Flitwick was pleased), a pull and a Freezing Charm.

I had to forfeit though. The dragon got angry. Bagman still gave me full marks. He said I got the egg. Karkaroff gave me zero.

Don't be mad. Snape has been helping me. Dumbledore made him. But he's actually been really good. He went through spells that I know.

Ron is still pissed about my name being pulled out. So is nearly everyone else. The only people who'll talk to me are Hermione, the Twins and Neville. Hufflepuff are being the worst. Even worse than Slytherin. Although Snape got really mad at one of them for saying my parents died fighting Voldemort.

Sorry, I'm just upset.

The next task is something to do with the egg I had to get. It's got a clue inside. I've not opened it to find out.

Professor Moody is weird.

Harry.

Harry waited until late. He just sat doing a lot of not much. Thinking. Thinking didn't do him any good. He checked the map, found a quiet route to the owlery and took his letter. He used one of the school owls, but made sure to talk to Hedwig. She nipped his hand a couple of times to make a point, but did lean in to get her feathers ruffled.

Harry went back to the common room just before curfew, spoke to no-one in his dorm and fell asleep.

He avoided people all the next day too. On Monday in class he sat quietly, made notes and left again, neither gaining nor losing points. He made sure he completed his homeworks to stay out of trouble, but otherwise didn't engage.

Monday evening was his mentoring session night. It bothered him that he looked forward to it. How bad had things got where an hour with Snape was an upside. He thought about that a bit more and realised he was being unfair. Snape in these sessions was OK.

"Is your egg somewhere safe?" asked Snape, after some fairly monosyllabic opening pleasantries.

"It's in my trunk," replied Harry.

"Have you opened it?"

"Nope."

"Good, don't," replied Snape. "We can decide nearer the time how much effort you should put in to satisfy the rules of the tournament."

"So the next task will be a surprise too?" asked Harry.

"It will ensure you finish last at any rate," replied Snape, "But more than that, it'll prevent you from competing properly. The next task has potential for someone to get to you, hurt you, worse."

"More than being barbequed by a dragon?" asked Harry snarkily.

"More than being barbequed by a dragon," confirmed Snape. "How is your school work going?"

Harry looked up in surprise.

"I did say I would make sure you didn't slip academically, Mr Potter. Perhaps what I should have said was, I will ensure you improve academically."

"Because I'm an abysmal dunderhead?"

"Precisely," said Snape, giving the obvious answer. "Now, let's talk about your abysmal grades in History of Magic first shall we?"

Harry groaned.

"Potter, I find your chicken scratch in Potions hard enough as it is, but what in Merlin's name is this?"

Snape held up Exhibit A, Harry's last History essay.

"An essay on the treatise of 1642, sir?" asked Harry, aware that 'normal' Snape was coming back to ascendancy. Harry got the feeling a detention was heading his way.

"Do you even know how to write with a quill?" snapped Snape.

Harry hadn't had a good few days. He wouldn't have snapped at Snape otherwise. "Nothing's ever good enough is it? Essays, spells, charms, homework, classwork, manners, points. But sure, let's discuss my handwriting next!" Harry growled.

Snape stared at him. Oops. Harry swallowed. That was not clever.

Snape hadn't stopped staring at him.

"Please don't," murmured Harry, his eyes wide. "That just slipped out. I'm sorry."

Snape pointed his wand to a small desk in the corner with a stool in front of it. The papers on it cleared and stacked neatly on the floor next to it.

"Please."

"Sit at the desk. I told you, I don't mentor with a ruler. However deserving you are of one." Harry blushed crimson.

Snape produced a blank parchment and a fresh quill.

"Write 'The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog'."

"Just the once?"

"For now," said Snape drily.

It took Harry twice as long as with a ballpoint, and the sentence still had a smudge.

"Has anyone shown you how to write with a quill?"

"No, sir."

"Didn't think so." He summoned a thin book from his bookcase. "Here."

Harry took the book. He opened it at the beginning. It was a book on handwriting, showing how to best form letters using a quill. There was a whole chapter on trimming a quill and inking it.

"I don't think you need me to show you how to write, do you, Mr Potter. You are able to follow the instructions in this book?"

Harry scanned through a few pages in the book. He nodded.

"Then after this evening's session I suggest you find somewhere to practise writing. I think a hundred Quick Brown Fox and a two hundred 'I will not be rude and sarcastic to my mentor' are in order, don't you? Plus you can rewrite whichever illegible homework is due for Wednesday. Hmmm?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Come sit back down at my desk again. Let's move on to Charms."

Harry got a reply from Sirius on Tuesday morning.

Dear Harry,

I don't know where to start. I wanted to floo call you the weekend before the tournament. I kept nipping in and out of the Gryffindor common room fire. You weren't there. I kept an eye out in Hogsmeade too, but you weren't there either. I assumed you were practising for last week. No matter.

I wanted to tell you about Karkaroff. He is, or was a Death Eater, a follower of Voldemort. He was in Azkaban. Moody arrested him. He got out in exchange for giving up other people's names. Watch out for him.

Snape. Don't trust him either. Dumbledore does, but I don't. He's into the Dark Arts in a big way. You must have heard rumours about him. Stay away from him, Harry. I mean it.

I don't understand why you haven't investigated the egg yet. Your father would love this.

Tell me everything that happens with Snape. I'm worried for you. Can you meet me in the fireplace at midnight Wednesday? I'll be waiting.

Sirius

That didn't help matters at all. What did he mean about Snape? Dumbledore wouldn't employ Snape if he didn't trust him. Harry thought back to the end of last school year. Sirius and Snape clearly hate each other. There was a lot of bad blood in the past. Dumbledore had hinted as much. But Snape had helped him. Right now, Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall were here, and while Sirius could write to him, his knowledge was still a bit out of date. Very interesting about Karkaroff though. Maybe that was why Moody was here this year.

Harry decided to be very careful about what he told Sirius. Like not mentioning Snape. Or to be dishonest, lying about Snape. Definitely never explain how this all started.

And perhaps write back and say a firecall was impossible. If nothing else, it'd be reckless. After last week, Harry didn't fancy reckless.

He also didn't want to explain about deliberately losing. There was something about that Sirius wouldn't understand. And something weird about Sirius comparing him to his father.

Harry read the letter a number of times. It really didn't help. It gave him too much to think about.

He wrote a quick note to say weekdays weren't an option, and could Sirius try next Saturday. That at least gave him some thinking space.

Harry lost points on Wednesday in class for daydreaming. He'd been given latitude last week, but this week it was learning as usual. His loss of points wasn't taken well by the house. Harry genuinely started to wonder how long they were going to keep this up.

On Wednesday evening Ron saw Harry get ready to go to Snape's office.

"Another 'detention'?" he asked icily. "What is it this time? How to fall off broom to avoid catching the snitch?"

Harry stalked out. He wasn't in the mood.

Harry knocked on Snape's door slightly more forcefully than he should have done. Snape opened the door and took one look at Harry's face. Harry took half a step forward. Snape's arm blocked his path. He took Harry's bag and put it on the floor of his office.

"Go outside. Run three times around the quidditch pitch and try knocking again. Don't consider cheating. I will be watching. Out!"

Harry huffed and went out. He didn't see or hear Snape, but fully believed he was watching. On his way back into the castle a shadow detached from a wall. "Better?"

Harry would never admit to feeling better. He gave a teenage grunt instead.

"Grow up," responded Snape.

Back in Snape's office, Snape summoned a glass of water.

"Thanks." Snape nodded.

"I told you I wasn't going to ask about your feelings. I would ask what and why. Why did you try to knock my door down?"

"Ron was being a d… idiot," replied Harry. He got the feeling there were times when his language was allowed to slip and times when it wasn't. Now was a wasn't.

"Is he still annoyed about the conversation after the task?"

"You heard that?" Snape nodded. "Sorry."

"He'll come round or he's not your friend," stated Snape. "Now, how's your handwriting?"

Harry handed Snape his parchment. Snape scanned them. He nodded approvingly.

"Better. It will take practice. Tonight we're going to talk about DADA. What are you studying this week? I believe Professor Moody has a slightly altered curriculum."

Unbeknownst to Potter, Severus had chewed Albus out over the Unforgivables. Albus had been abashed. He hadn't known Moody was going to demonstrate them. Albus had had words with Moody about using students as guinea pigs. Severus didn't know the details, but Albus had been angry.

Severus didn't genuinely like Gryffindors. As a bunch they weren't his type of people. Longbottom was a special case. On one hand, Severus couldn't abide clumsy in his classes. That was ninety percent the reason he berated Longbottom. Ten percent was the fact that there were two children born at the end of July. Severus had had more than one hangover after thinking too hard about Longbottom. His compos mentis thoughts usually ended with the one where Alice and Frank were dead and Lily was in St Mungo's for life. They were never happy thoughts.

The only reason Snape hadn't allowed Longbottom's fist to land the other day was that a whole heap of Hufflepuffs would have knocked the stuffing out of the boy. Minerva had given him a hot chocolate and time to sort his thoughts out, and Filius had made Finch-Fletchley very sorry.

"He toned it down since that lesson. Please can I ask you about something that's not really to do with DADA, but kind of is to do with Professor Moody."

"You can ask, but I might not answer," said Snape.

"Did Moody really arrest Karkaroff?"

Snape's eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Where did you hear that?"

"I read it in the paper. Someone had been sent a back edition. Common room gossip, you know," lied Harry.

"What else did the paper say?"

"That Karkaroff was a Death Eater. And that he bought his way out with information."

"It is factually correct that Moody as an Auror arrested Karkaroff. It is factually correct that Karkaroff was sentenced to Azkaban for being an active supporter of Voldemort. It is factually correct that he was given a reduced sentence for naming other Death Eaters."

"Is that why Moody is here? To keep an eye on him?"

"Professor Moody is here because the Headmaster hired him. What else did the article say."

"Nothing. It was only a snippet. Why is Karkaroff the Headmaster of a school?"

"Can someone change? If someone supports one side, can they have a change of heart? Support the other side? In this case see the light as it were?"

"I suppose, but is he trusted?"

"Trust is earned. It is a fragile thing. Durmstrang's Board of Governors must trust him. His past is public knowledge."

Harry nodded.

"Has Professor Moody done anything in your lessons that 'weirded you out', I believe your phrase was?"

Harry shook his head, "Not unless you count that very freaky eye of his. Passing notes is impossible."

"I wonder where I can get one," Severus mused out loud.

It was a week later that Harry told Snape that Moody was being insistent about the egg.

"What does he say?" asked Snape.

"He wanted to know why I've not opened it. I sort of lied but sort of not. I said the Headmaster told me not to. That's not exactly true, but I know Professor Dumbledore doesn't want me to do the task, so it amounts to the same thing."

"Mmmm," said Snape.

"Does his eye detect lies?" asked Harry.

"No, but a lifetime in the Auror corps does. He knew you were lying, but your belief in the truth was there. It amounted to the same thing."

"So what do I do?"

"Nothing. I will tell the Headmaster and he will reiterate his requirements to Professor Moody. I'm sure they will have a difference of opinion, but Professor Moody will leave you alone for a while."

"Professor Moody apologised to me after class for pushing me to open the egg," said Harry.

"That's more than you'd have got of me," said Snape. "Tell me about your points loss in Astronomy."

Harry sighed. "It was like this…"

The first week of December had been cold. Harry was looking forward to the Christmas holidays. Everyone would sod off and he'd get some peace and quiet. He was, as usual, going to sign up to stay over the holidays. Hermione said she would too. The twins said they'd ask. Neville reluctantly said his Grandmother would want him home.

It did not do Harry's blood pressure any good to be told about the Yule Ball.

"I'm not bloody doing it!" snarled Harry. "It's not a requirement of the tournament. Is it?!" he asked in horror of Snape that evening in his mentor session.

"It is not a requirement, no. Why will you not be going?"

"Did I sign up for the tournament? No. Am I welcome in the tournament? No. Do I feel like a puppet and this is being rebellious? Oh, yes. Do I care what they think? Not any more."

"Do you have a date?" drawled Snape.

"Sod off."

"I'll take that as a no," Snape replied, taking no offense at Harry's answer. "In all seriousness, you are aware this really will alienate you?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think I care any more. You know I charm all my things now, just so my own house can't hide them without me knowing? You know I eat early or late just to avoid the comments?"

"I am aware." A bit of Snape wanted to take every Gryffindor and Hufflepuff to task, but he could hardly do that when he didn't publicly rein in his own house. He had however gathered his prefects and told them to pass on the word to tone it down. In the guise of taking the high road more than the Hufflepuffs. They snickered at others' actions, and laughed appropriately, but they didn't instigate any of it.

"So no, I genuinely don't care."

"I'm just making you aware of the facts."

"So do you have a date for the ball, sir?"

"Get out, you childish adolescent!"

Dear Sirius,

I couldn't get to the fireplace. It's not a good idea to meet there. We should stick to writing. I'll keep sending a school owl. Hedwig's going to hate me soon.

Thank you for telling me about Karkaroff. That makes sense.

I'll be wary of Snape, especially about the tournament. But, he is also asking me about my school work. I have to admit, he's OK about that. Snark, but that's Snape.

There's a Yule Ball. Christmas Day. I'm boycotting it. All the champions are supposed to do the first dance. At least it saves me finding a date.

Harry.