Harry considered the detentions he received for the stinksap incident to be well worth it; Harry's actions were hailed in Slytherin as the best prank upon Gryffindor in a decade, and the "Potter Stinks" badges had almost completely disappeared from the hallways.

In fact, the only people still wearing "Potter Stinks" badges were Slytherins themselves, who displayed them as a badge of honor. Tracey and Harry were never without their badges. For laughs, Tracey would occasionally put a clothespin on her nose, causing nearby students to flee in terror. The rest of Slytherin, including Draco only wore their badges intermittently. (Draco felt that the badges were "low class.")

Harry and his friends continued to research the tournament and practice spells. Despite Hermione's extraordinary research skills, and despite Harry's willingness to sneak into the library after curfew with his invisibility cloak, Harry and his friends had found very little that would be of use.

The Tri-Wizard challenges varied wildly from tournament to tournament, and were usually devised by the then-headmasters of the schools. Some former headmasters had displayed patterns—one headmaster of Durmstrang had selected four consecutive challenges involving a sphinx, for example, before the slaughter of twelve Tri-Wizard champions forced him to reconsider his position. But because it had been so long since the last tournament, Harry had no way of anticipating what the current headmasters would choose.

Harry considered going to Snape or Dumbledore for guidance, but Harry knew that any request for assistance would be regarded as cheating. Harry wasn't sure what the punishment for cheating would be, but he was certain that Barty Crouch would be eager to impose it. Harry already at enough of a disadvantage that he didn't need to further handicap himself.

Harry felt overwhelmed by frustration. He couldn't speak of it to his friends, because he didn't want to seem ungrateful for their help. Harry had to tell somebody, however, and his frustration finally boiled over in a letter to Sirius. Harry wasn't looking for help, exactly; he was looking to vent his anger. Then again, if Sirius could offer some help, Harry was fairly certain that he wouldn't be penalized; the ministry's formal position on Black was that Black was still a fugitive mass murderer. Ministry officials could no more conceive of Black helping Harry than they could conceive of Mad-Eye Moody helping Voldemort.

Harry tied his letter to Hedwig and sent her off into the sky. He received a response two days later. Sirius's response was curt, and not even signed: "Not safe to talk in letter. Contact Dumbledore immediately."

*!*!*

Harry approached Dumbledore in the Great Hall during lunch. Public meetings were above suspicion—there were too many witnesses for Harry to be accused of cheating. That, and Barty Crouch was taking his lunch only three seats away from Dumbledore. Percy Weasley, last year's head boy, was sitting between Crouch and Dumbledore. Whenever Crouch spoke, Wesley nodded his head rapidly, almost like a bird.

When Harry reached the head table, he opened his mouth to address Dumbledore. Dumbledore pre-empted Harry, however.

"Harry, despite your zealous attempts to shorten your series of detentions, my mind remains firm. Please report to my office this evening at eight o'clock to serve your final detention."

Harry glanced down. "Yes, sir."

Barty Crouch leaned forward. "Good on you, Dumbledore! Don't let those silver-tongued snakes talk you into leniency!" Percy Weasley nodded vigorously in agreement.

Using the eye that Crouch could not see, Dumbledore winked at Harry. "Off with you, Harry. Back to lunch."

Harry trotted back to the Slytherin table. He had never asked Dumbledore to shorten his detentions at all, let alone zealously. Had Sirius contacted Dumbledore? Was Dumbledore going to give Harry some sort of hint, or secret advice? Special training? A charmed object?

Harry's mind was still spinning with possibilities as he approached Dumbledore's office that evening. His hopes crashed, however, when he found a grinning Barty Crouch standing next to the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office.

"Potter," said Crouch. "After hearing that you tried to escape your punishment, I thought that it would be interesting to see what Dumbledore had planned for you." Crouch leaned forward, grinning at Harry and exposing his large teeth. His face looked almost skull-like.

"I'm curious to know what Dumbledore has planned, as well," said Harry, refusing to show any weakness. Harry turned to the gargoyle. "Harry Potter to see Professor Dumbledore."

The gargoyle slid aside, and Harry ascended the steps. Crouch followed close behind.

When Harry arrived in Dumbledore's office, the headmaster was placing his penseive inside its cabinet.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore said. "And Mr. Crouch, what a pleasant surprise. Do we have business that I have forgotten?"

"Not at all. I simply wished to observe Mr. Potter's punishment," Crouch said. Harry thought it was far more likely that Crouch wanted to prevent Harry from receiving any special assistance behind closed doors.

"Alas," said Dumbledore, "I believe that you will be sorely disappointed. Tonight's disciplinary measures are rather plain." Dumbledore gestured toward a chair. "Harry, if you would have a seat?"

Harry sat. The chair faced Dumbledore's hearth. A small burned in the fireplace, surrounded by a large pile of red-hot cinders.

"Harry, your actions with the stinksap were unacceptable," Dumbledore said. "I want you to think about what you have done. When I return at the end of the evening, I expect an eloquent and well-reasoned apology. If I am not satisfied, you will continue to have detention with me until your apology is, as they say, 'up to snuff.'"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Is that all?" Crouch demanded indignantly.

Dumbledore smiled. "Not at all. Harry, you have another responsibility. Please ensure that my fire neither goes out nor goes out of control. Magic is not allowed."

"Yes, sir," said Harry quietly.

"Thank you, Harry." Dumbledore turned to Crouch. "I assume that you do not wish to watch Mr. Potter in his quiet contemplation. Perhaps you would like to accompany me as I call upon Hagrid." Dumbledore took Crouch's elbow and gently steered him toward the door. "You will be impressed, I am sure, by the dedication Hagrid has shown to the tournament…"

As the door to Dumbledore's office closed, Harry made a mental note: talk to Hagrid about the tournament. Harry's large friend would never betray Dumbledore's trust intentionally, but it was almost inevitable that Hagrid would let some detail slip that would give Harry a clue about the upcoming challenges.

"Harry?"

Harry's head snapped around at the sound of his name. There was nobody else in the office.

"Over here, in the fireplace."

Harry turned slowly. A man's face floated in the flames. He was well groomed, with a neatly trimmed mustache and carefully combed hair. He had deep lines around his eyes, even though the rest of his face seemed much younger. It took Harry a moment to recognize him.

"Sirius? How?"

"Floo network," Sirius said. "The ministry doesn't monitor it half as well as they should." Sirius winked, and for a moment he seemed as young as Harry. "It's good to talk to you, Harry—I've been looking forward to the next time we could speak face to face."

"Me too," said Harry. It was only partly a lie—he was still a little uncomfortable with Sirius's anti-Slytherin sentiments. Also the fact that he had only ever met the man once.

"So tell me about the tournament?" said Sirius.

"Ugh," Harry said, sitting back in his chair. "I don't even want to talk about it. It's the worst."

"That bad, huh?"

"Could be better," Harry said. "A renegade dark wizard entered me in a tournament hoping for my death, I've been banned from the library so I can't do research, I'm three years behind the rest of the champions in terms of my education, and Snape and Dumbledore can't help me because Barty Crouch is convinced that I'm a born cheater." Harry took a breath. "Did I leave anything out?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "That's rather daunting. Are you any closer to discovering who put your name got in the cup?"

"I was going to ask you that." Harry frowned. "I had hoped that Dumbledore had told you something, since you're my godfather and all."

Sirius shook his head, and tongues of flame leapt upward from his hair. "Dumbledore told me that Moody is on the case, but nothing more."

"I am not reassured," Harry said. "Moody's barmy."

"Mad-eye can be odd, I'll give you that. But he's also one of the best aurors that's ever lived." Sirius said. "But I wasn't asking about Dumbledore, actually. Have you gotten any closer to discovering who put your name in the cup?"

"No. After the initial shock, I haven't put much thought into it."

"I'm surprised, Harry. If your father and I had been faced with a mystery like that, we wouldn't have rested until it was solved. I meant that literally—we wouldn't have slept. We would have been out every night, looking for clues."

Harry drew his eyebrows together, annoyed. "Yeah, well, I've been a little preoccupied. Trying to figure out how to survive the tournament and all."

"Getting through the tournament is important, Harry, but you should be careful. Whoever put your name in the cup might not wait for the tournament to finish you off."

"Be careful? Sirius, that's practically all I do. Last year I thought you were trying to kill me, and the year before that the Heir of Slytherin was petrifying everybody. I know how to be careful."

"You're more at risk than you realize," Sirius said. "You're practically surrounded by people who might want to do you harm."

"Don't start this again," Harry said, but Sirius forged onward.

"Did you know that Igor Karkaroff was a Death Eater?"

"No." Harry sat back, surprised.

"He was in Azkaban at the same time as me. He was released after You-Know-Who was defeated. He turned on the other Death Eaters and gave their names to the Ministry."

"So he's not a Death Eater any more, then," Harry said.

"Nobody stops being a Death Eater, Harry. It isn't chess club. You can't just quit the team."

"But Karkaroff did," Harry said.

"Karkaroff was a coward," Sirius said. "He was the worst sort of Slytherin. He has no principles—he simply follows the power. His allegiances turn faster than a weather vane in a windstorm. If You-Know-Who returns, Karkaroff knows that he will be punished… unless he does something to redeem himself."

"Like killing me," Harry said. Sirius's jab at Slytherin had not gone unnoticed, however.

"I'm glad that you understand the danger you're in, Harry. You have to be careful." Sirius paused and glanced down. "The next thing I have to tell you may come as quite a shock, Harry. I'm sorry that I'm the one who has to tell you. You might hate me for it. But it needs to be said."

Harry leaned forward expectantly. Despite Sirius's words of warning, it was clear that Harry was about to learn a major secret.

"Harry… Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater."

"Oh." Harry sat up, disappointed. "I knew that already."

"You… knew?"

"Yes. Mr. Malfoy told me last year."

"You knew, and you still went to the Quidditch World Cup with him?"

"Yes, I did," said Harry crossly. "Dumbledore was comfortable with Mr. Malfoy taking me to the Quidditch World Cup this summer, and so was I."

"I'm disappointed in you," Sirius said quietly. Sirius was attempting to act like an adult, and it wasn't coming off well—he looked too much like a hurt puppy. "Death Eaters helped Voldemort kill your parents, Harry. It's insulting to their memory."

"Oh, so now you're going to provide me with fatherly advice?" Harry snapped. "If you had been attending to your responsibilities as my godfather instead of getting yourself locked in Azkaban, maybe none of this would have happened."

"I know it's partly my fault…"

"Have you talked to Dumbledore about this?"

"No, but-"

"But maybe you should," Harry said. "Because I have. And you know what Dumbledore thinks? He thinks that people deserve a second chance."

"Harry, people might change, but not that much."

"No? You might want to ask Peter Pettigrew about that. You didn't notice the change in his character, did you?" It was a cheap shot, but Harry didn't feel bad about it.

"Lucius Malfoy bribed his way out of Azkaban!" Sirius was shouting, as if more volume would make him more convincing.

"So what? We're not talking about what Mr. Malfoy did then. We're talking about who he is now. He had a wife and an infant child to take care of. In his situation, I would have done the same thing."

Sirius's jaw dropped open. He was shocked into a moment of silence. "I'm… surprised that you feel that way."

"Why? I know how important family is, because I never had one. Lucius and Narcissa have treated me like a son. I'm going to judge them by who they are now, and not by some unproven allegations from fifteen years ago."

"I… I just… never expected to hear you say that." A hand appeared in the flames, and Sirius wiped his brow. "That explains the way you act around Snape, then," Sirius muttered, more to himself than to Harry.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You seem like you respect Snape," Sirius said.

"And what of it?" Harry did respect Snape—Snape had done as much as anyone to teach Harry how to be a Slytherin.

Sirius sighed.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I don't want to fight, Harry. This isn't why I wanted to speak with you."

Harry, however, was in a mood to be confrontational. "Don't change the subject. What, exactly, is wrong about respecting my head of house?"

"I just can't understand it, Harry. I could never respect somebody who used to be a Death Eater."

Harry stared blankly into the flames. Did Sirius just say that Snape was a Death Eater? The idea was absurd. If Snape was a Death Eater, then Dumbledore had to have known. And why would Dumbledore allow a former Death Eater to teach schoolchildren? There had to be some sort of mistake. Snape certainly looked like the type… but Snape had also prepared a trap to protect the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort. And Snape had tried to enter the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny Weasley. Those weren't the actions of a Death Eater.

Sirius was speaking again. "Harry, I didn't want to spend the night arguing with you. I know you might not be happy with the things I've told you, but I thought it was important that you know, even if it made you unhappy." He seemed to have taken Harry's silence as resulting from anger, rather than shock. "Why don't we talk about something else?

Harry nodded mechanically. "Sure." His head was still spinning, trying to resolve the demanding-but-protective-of-Slytherins Snape he knew with a man who was cruel enough to be a Death Eater.

"Er…" Sirius seemed to be casting around for a subject. "What do you know about the challenges for the tournament?"

"Nothing," said Harry, snapping back to the present. "The first challenge is supposed to test our courage and daring in the face of the unknown, or some such rubbish."

"Those are very important parts of being a wizard," Sirius said. "Your father and mother both had plenty of courage and daring. I'm sure you have the same." Sirius clearly felt like he was on safer ground, complementing Harry's parents.

"The task sounds like it was tailor-made for a Gryffindor," Harry said. "It's probably Dumbledore's. He probably figured that a Gryffindor would be the Hogwarts champion. But instead, he got Diggory and me. Not known for courage, us badgers and snakes." Harry snorted bitterly. "Maybe Diggory and I should work together and cheat our way through the first task. It'd make both our houses proud."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Sirius said.

"Cheating?"

"You still have your father's invisibility cloak, right? And the Marauder's Map?"

"Sure."

"Well, why haven't you been using them?"

"I have," said Harry. "I go to the library every night and pour over books, looking for something that will help! I've hardly slept in the last two weeks, other than in class. I know the Restricted Section better than I know my own bed."

"The library?" Sirius started to laugh. "Harry, the tournament is being held at Hogwarts. Have you noticed anybody preparing for the first task? Are they wizards and witches walking around during the day, getting things ready?"

"No," said Harry. "I would have noticed that. I'm not stupid."

"Then they're doing it at night, when nobody is watching! So go find them!"

"That's…" Harry paused. "That's brilliant, actually."

Sirius grinned. His smile was young, even though it deepened the creases around his eyes. "You're right, it is brilliant. Your father and I spent more time sleeping in class than we did in our own beds. Had a right lot of fun doing it, I might add. So put on that cloak and get out there, Harry. Make an old man proud."

"I don't even know where to start," Harry said. Except he did. "Actually, never mind that. I think I'm going to take a little walk by the Forbidden Forest after curfew." Harry smiled. His mood had improved, and clearly so had Sirius's.

"That's the spirit," Sirius said. "Now, remind me why Snivellus isn't helping you. When I see him next, I want to know why I'm hexing him. He should be doing everything he can for his underage champion."

"Give it a rest," Harry said. Sirius was clearly teasing. Teasing was something that Harry had no problem with. If you couldn't brush off teasing, you couldn't be a Slytherin. "You expect Snape to help me cheat because he and I are in Slytherin. But if he was helping me, I bet you'd be whining that he was corrupting a minor."

"It's like we've known each other our entire lives," Sirius said, smiling. "Now that you have a real plan for the tournament, tell me about everything else."

"Er… what do you want to know?"

"How is it, being a Tri-Wizard Champion? I've been thinking about what I would have done, if I had been a champion when I was at Hogwarts… I would have been using the Hogwarts secret passages for a lot more than shortcuts to class, if you know what I mean." Sirius winked again, and made a clicking noise from the side of his mouth. Harry could easily imagine Sirius nudging him in the ribs with an elbow, if they had been in the same room.

"Oh. Um… Nothing on that front, really." Harry felt his face turning red.

"Come on, Harry! There have to be a few young witches who catch your eye!"

"Not really, no." Harry ran his hand through his hair. He could feel the flush of embarrassment as it crept down his neck.

"What about that friend you mentioned in your letters? Tracey Davis? She sounded like a nice young witch."

"She's just a friend," Harry said. Why was everybody making comments about Harry and Tracey, all of the sudden?

"I said that a lot, when I was about your age," Sirius said, scratching his chin. "I can't remember a time when it was the truth."

"Well, with me it is, okay? Tracey's my friend and I don't think of her that way."

"Maybe you should," Sirius said.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, again. "Mother of Merlin, will you just lay off? There's nothing with me and Tracey!"

"Fine, fine." Sirius's hands appeared in the fireplace, as he raised them in a gesture of surrender. "Nothing between you and Tracey. How about that Gryffindor I met last year?"

"Hermione?"

"That's the one. Since there's nothing between you and Tracey, maybe you're waiting for the right Gryffindor…"

"I. Can't. Believe. You." Harry's was clenching his teeth together. He raised his hand to his hair, but instead of running it through, he grabbed a frustrated handful.

"What? I'm just interested in my godson's life." Sirius grinned. "Tell me about Hermione."

"She's helping me with the tournament-"

"Ah-hah!"

"-but we also had a huge row about it."

"Your mother and father had some huge rows, too, and that turned out okay. It's a thing with Gryffindor women. Let me tell you, I had some spectacular rows when I was at Hogwarts, and they almost always ended well. There was this one girl, Wendy Woodsmith, and she had the biggest-"

"SIRIUS!"

"-voice that you ever heard." Sirius paused. "What?"

Harry shook his head. "That's not the type of fight I mean. Hermione was seriously thinking about dropping me as a friend."

"Oh. Sorry, Harry. But things are alright, now?"

Harry nodded. "For now."

"Well, then what are you waiting for? Ask her to Hogsmeade, before it's too late!"

"How did my father put up with you?"

"Your father encouraged this behavior, I'll have you know."

Harry began to answer, but then stopped. There was a far-off rumbling sound, like stone grinding against stone.

"What is it?" Sirius asked.

"Shh."

Harry looked over his shoulder at the door to Dumbledore's office. He could hear the faint sound of voices coming from the other side. The grinding sound had been Dumbledore's gargoyle, moving aside. The headmaster and Mr. Crouch had returned.

"They're back," Harry said. "I have to go."

"Good luck, Harry," Sirius said. "Be careful!" Sirius's head disappeared from the flames.

Harry sat back in his chair. When Sirius was likeable, he was really likeable. But when he was irritating, he was really irritating.

The door opened, and Dumbledore stepped through, followed by Mr. Crouch.

"I see that my fire is still burning," Dumbledore said. "Have you had an opportunity to consider your apology?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly. Harry had been so distracted by Sirius that he had forgotten to fabricate an apology. Luckily, the physical actions that suggested contrition were quiet, slow movements. Harry played them up, buying time to compose his apology on the fly.

"Let's hear it, then!" said Mr. Crouch, overly excited.

Dumbledore put out a hand, a gentle admonition for Crouch to calm himself. "I'm sure this is difficult for Harry," Dumbledore said. "He should feel free to apologize at his own pace."

Harry gave Dumbledore a small smile, then took a deep breath. "I realize that my actions with the stinksap were wrong. I was upset by the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges, but I know that there are better ways I could have dealt with that situation." Harry paused and ran his hand through his hair. "Even though the stinksap was just an inconvenience, it could have been worse. It might have reacted with something that another student had been working on in another class, and I would never have known what until it was too late." Harry looked down at his feet. "Stealing the stinksap from Herbology was a betrayal of the trust that Professor Sprout places in her students. I'm very sorry."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm glad that you have realized that the wrongness of your actions goes deeper than the actual results. You apology is accepted." Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Please do not dwell on this more than you already have, Harry. While worse things might have come to pass, they did not. Take this incident for what it is: a prank that got out of hand." Crouch frowned at Dumbledore's words, but said nothing.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Harry had learned long ago that a polite, 'yes, sir' would get him through most situations with his professors, especially Snape and Dumbledore.

"Very good. Back to your dormitory with you, then."

"Thank you, sir." Harry moved quickly to the door, closing it behind him before Crouch could say anything.

A/N: I think Harry is really starting to come into his own as a Slytherin. Not perfect, of course, but making a reasonable attempt at cunning.