Chapter 24

For one terrible moment, Minerva was afraid her heart would give out.

She was definitely too old for this.

Watching Cedric facing his dragon had been terrifying, even though the boy had clearly been prepared enough to deal with it. Watching Harry with that Hungarian Horntail had been something else.

It had been clear from the start that he didn't stand a chance, and that he knew it. Every single adult present had known it. Minerva had put all her hopes on Severus, but the man hadn't even made an appearance. Maybe he hadn't been able to attend? Or was he lying dead somewhere? She had thought the Vow had taken, that he would be allowed to help somehow, but the boy had had to face that dragon by himself.

She felt guilty for having yelled at him yesterday, even though he completely deserved it. The man might be an idiot on an emotional level, but Minerva didn't want to part with him in anger. She hoped she would have a chance to patch things up.

Minerva's heart had definitely made a funny thing when she had seen Harry running head on towards the dragon. It had all happened too fast to process any thoughts, but oddly she had seen it as if in slow motion, and she had had time enough to understand that it was a suicidal attempt. The entire audience had let out a collective exclamation of horror when the boy had stopped right in front of the creature like a victim offering herself for sacrifice.

And then Harry Potter had killed a dragon.

The earth trembled when the creature fell. Minerva stared in shock with everyone else as the dust settled and the figure of a fourteen-year-old boy became visible. He still had his wand raised, and even from this distance she could tell that his hand was completely firm. Slowly, Harry lowered his wand, but he remained staring at the dead dragon with a very hard expression on his face. Despite the physical resemblance, it wasn't very often that the boy reminded Minerva so much of his father, but now he did. Not of the teenage James, but the member of the Order of the Phoenix. James Potter had been a fierce fighter, and he had often looked at his enemies that way. Even being so young, he had been an opponent to fear, especially when he got that look in his eyes.

After at least a whole minute of absolute silence and stillness, the boy finally moved, slowly walking towards the dragon's nest —which somehow had remained unharmed— and carefully picking up the golden egg. Then he went back to stare at the dead dragon.

Minerva was immediately on her feet. Potter might be unhelpable as a champion, but he was still her charge, so no damned Goblet would stop her from escorting him to the first aid tent, just as Pomona had done with Cedric. She noticed that none of the dragon handlers had moved, even though now they must be able to go into the enclosure. They probably thought there was no point, since the dragon was plainly dead. Minerva saw anger and grief on their faces as she made her way down.

The students didn't seem to know what to do. No one was cheering, but they had began whispering amongst themselves, probably trying to decide if Harry should be congratulated or censured for what he had done. Minerva considered that silence was for the best, all things considered.

The boy didn't notice that she was approaching —followed by a limping Moody— until she was only fifteen feet away, and then he suddenly turned with his wand raised again, his green eyes wild. Minerva immediately stopped.

"It's all right, Potter," she said gently. "The task is over, you are safe. Please lower your wand."

Harry stared at her for a long moment before his eyes seemed to focus and recognize her. He dropped his arm, but his eyes were still hard and not very present in the current moment.

"The boy's got good instincts, eh?" growled Moody behind her. "You would make a good Auror, Potter."

"You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges announce your score, Potter," said Minerva after throwing Moody a look of disapproval. The boy was clearly in shock, it wasn't the time to congratulate him for having murderous instincts. "Come with me."

Poppy was standing at the entrance of the first aid tent, looking anxious. Minerva was worried too. It was remarkable that Harry had been able to stay on his feet and even run after all the injuries he had suffered. He probably had not really felt the pain with so much adrenaline in his system, but he must be starting to feel it now.

She was also worried about Severus. He had vowed to keep the boy healthy, and being burnt and spiked was definitely not healthy. Had Severus dropped dead somewhere? Or was his ignorance keeping him temporarily alive? What were the chances that he would not hear about Potter's injuries? Would the Vow spare him if he heard of it once the boy was already healed?

"Dragons!" said Poppy in disgust as she pulled the boy inside the tent and immediately made him swallow a Calming Draught. "Last year Dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into the school next?"

Minerva didn't even want to think about that. There were two more tasks, so the Goblet of Fire would have plenty opportunity to give them all heart attacks.

It took some effort to convince the boy of letting go of the cumbersome egg so he could be properly examined. Nothing that Poppy or Minerva said persuaded him of letting go of his wand, however. He was clutching it as if his life still depended on it.

"This is strange..." mumbled Poppy with a frown while she performed her examination. "I can't find any wounds. Where were you hurt, Potter?"

"I'm fine," said Harry automatically.

Minerva looked him up and down. His robes were torn in a few places, and completely singed in several others. She had seen him catch fire and be hit by the dragon's tail, so there was no way he wasn't hurt.

"You don't look fine," insisted Poppy. "Don't you feel pain somewhere?"

"Really, everything just passed really close," insisted the boy. "I barely felt the blows, and I put the fire down with my hand before it could burn me."

"Let me examine your hands, then, Potter."

Poppy didn't find anything wrong with the boy's left hand. After a brief struggle, they managed to convince him of changing the wand from right to left so Poppy could examine the other. Her frown got deeper.

Before she could say anything, however, Miss Granger made her way into the tent followed a short distance behind by Mr. Weasley.

"Harry!" exclaimed the girl anxiously. There were fingernail marks on her face, and her eyes were red and puffy. "I can't believe... I thought you... Oh, Harry!"

She ran to Potter as if to hug him, but the boy flinched away, so she stopped and looked at him warily. Minerva and Poppy retreated a few steps to give them space, but Minerva remained vigilant in case the shocked boy reacted badly. He still had his wand, after all, and unbelievable as it might be he had just proven himself capable of casting the Killing Curse.

Minerva was also interested to know what was going on with Potter and Weasley. Never before since they had come to Hogwarts she had seen them apart for more than a day, but in the last three weeks they hadn't sat together in any meal nor class as far as she could tell.

"Harry," Weasley said, very seriously, "whoever confunded you to put your name in that goblet I... I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

It seemed to take Potter several seconds to focus on his friend, and even longer to understand the words.

"You reckon?" he finally spat. Sparks shot out of his wand just as his eyes flashed as bright as a Killing Curse, making Weasley step back instinctively.

"All right!" said Poppy jumping forward. "Perhaps you should clear off, Weasley, Potter's in shock and you two shouldn't even be here."

Weasley only hesitated a moment, his face turning from white to red and back to white before hurrying off. Miss Granger didn't seem to intend to go anywhere, however, and after a brief discussion Poppy allowed her to stay seeing that Potter wasn't reacting aggressively to her. She even seemed to calm him down a fraction by gently taking his hand.

After making sure that the boy would not go on a killing spree, Minerva and Poppy walked out of the tent to talk in private.

"Are you sure he isn't hurt?" asked Minerva anxiously. "I'm certain he was hit at least twice by that spiked tail, and he literally caught fire several times."

Poppy shrugged.

"I couldn't find any injuries," she repeated. "Not even a bruise. I don't know, maybe his accidental magic healed him? I heard that he had an episode last year, and this is definitely the kind of stressful circumstances that could call for it." She hesitated. "I admit I didn't expect... How did he...?"

"He killed the dragon," said Minerva. Poppy's eyes widened. "Don't ask me how, I still find it hard to believe."

"This is madness!"

Minerva sighed.

"Yes. Well, I guess I should go to inform Dumbledore. Send Harry back to the enclosure when he's ready, will you?"

People seemed to have at least partially recovered from the shock when she returned to the stands. Students were speaking loudly and moving around, most of them looking uncharacteristically serious. The dragon handlers had finally approached the Hungarian Horntail and were casting what probably were preserving charms and wards to keep away scavenger creatures (and humans, since dragons were extremely valuable). Minerva saw Charlie Weasley amongst them, looking very pale and upset. She had hoped they would move the dead creature somewhere else, since it was hardly something that so many impressionable young children ought to see for longer than absolutely necessary, but perhaps the handlers had been more worried about keeping the sight from the other dragons.

The judges had all gathered to confer around the Goblet of Fire, but Dumbledore got away for a moment to hear her report. He frowned very like Poppy when she told him about Harry not having any injuries, but didn't comment. Of course this wasn't the moment to ask, but she was curious to know what he thought about the possibility of Harry having bouts of accidental magic at this age. She had been concerned last year when she had heard about the aunt he had blown, but fourteen was a bit too much. Although perhaps it wasn't only a problem of control. Perhaps Harry's magic was just too powerful. How else could be explained the fact that he had been able to kill a dragon with the Killing Curse?

A few minutes later Harry reappeared in the enclosure, dragged by Miss Granger. The boy stopped abruptly when he saw the dragon again, and it required some insistence from Miss Granger to make him move closer. It didn't look as if the Calming Draught had made much of an effect, by the way the boy stared at the dead creature Minerva suspected that he would have made a run for it if Miss Granger had not been firmly holding on to him.

Dumbledore climbed to his feet and unnecesarily amplified his voice to be heard. The Goblet of Fire was burning evilly in front of him.

"The Jury has unanimously decided that, even though Mr. Potter has successfully completed the task, he won't receive a score. The Champions were not supposed to do lasting harm to their dragon while performing the task. Given that the Goblet of Fire does not prohibit lethal actions towards any creatures or living beings in general, Mr. Potter won't be disqualified, but we must warn him —and his fellow Champions— that wizarding society frowns upon such actions." Dumbledore seemed to have finished, but when he was about to sit back Madam Maxime leaned towards him to whisper something in his ear. He frowned and nodded before addressing the public again. "We also want to remind you all that the use of any of the Unforgivable Curses against a human being is illegal, and has severe consequences in any of the countries that participate in this Tournament. Under normal circumstances —which is not the case— it is also generally punishable to harm magical creatures. Please do not take Mr. Potter's actions today as any sort of example to follow."

Dumbledore's words seemed to partially snap the boy from his shock. At least now he was staring at the judge's table, and he looked more like himself. The wild anger that had possessed him since killing the dragon was quickly being replaced by guilt and shame in his young face. Minerva, on her part, felt indignant. The boy should not be scolded for doing whatever he had to do to survive! This whole Tournament was medieval, and the Goblet of Fire was clearly trying to get the champions killed, so why wouldn't they be allowed to play by the same rulebook?

Her only comfort was that the champions were supposed to have immunity for whatever they did during the tasks. Even if they murdered each other, none of the Governments could prosecute them. At least in theory.

Minerva wanted to talk to Dumbledore after the event was over, but he was too busy with his fellow judges so she decided to put it off until tomorrow. She had more urgent things to do, anyway. Now that the task was over and Harry was safe, her concern for Severus took priority in her mind. Since apparently the boy had not been hurt at all —unbelievable as that was—, she figured that Severus must be still alive, but she would not relax until she saw it with her own eyes. So she asked Filius to take care of supervising the return of the students to the castle and set off.

She had only walked fifty feet into the woods when a House Elf appeared with a crack in front of her.

"I is apologize for intruding, Deputy Headmistress," squeaked the Elf, "but the Potions Master is requiring you in his quarters as soon as possible. He says to bring the Mistress Healer too. No one is to know, the Potion's master says!"

"Thank you, Gilly, I will take care of it. You can go back to the kitchens."

Well, at least Severus was alive. Minerva turned around and went to fetch Poppy before going back to the castle, wondering why the man had asked for the matron. Maybe he wanted to hear directly from her the report about Harry's health?

They both gasped when they walked into Severus' quarters and saw him lying on the coach, deadly pale, bleeding and with what looked like burns on hands and neck. His eyes were closed, but Minerva could see his chest rising and falling, so he was still breathing, although with difficulty. There were several empty phials on the coffee table, and a half full bottle of firewhisky.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Poppy, rushing forward and beginning to cast diagnostic spells. "Severus, can you hear me?"

The man grunted and reluctantly opened his eyes.

"No need to yell," he hissed in annoyance. "Just patch me up, Poppy."

"What the hell happened?"

Severus ignored her, instead focusing his dark eyes on Minerva and raising an enquiring eyebrow in what seemed like a painful gesture.

"Harry is fine," she said. "Not a single injury. I gather he owes that to you?"

She had understood the instant she had seen him, even though she had no idea what sort of spell could have been used to do what Severus obviously had done. Of course, she should have guessed before, as soon as she had learned about the lack of injuries in the boy. Poppy was gaping between the two of them.

"What...?"

"Just patch me up," growled Severus again. "I have already drank a few pain relievers and a Blood-Replenishing potion."

"And half a bottle of firewhisky," observed Minerva dryly.

"The pain relievers weren't enough," he just said. "I also closed the bleeding wounds. I was too tired to deal with the burns myself, though."

Poppy pursed her lips in disapproval, but didn't present any more objections and got to work immediately. Minerva did what he could to assist her, which was necessary since Severus wasn't the most cooperative of patients. It was nearly as hard to get him to surrender his wand as it had been to get Harry to put the golden egg away.

Either the pain relievers and the firewhisky had done the trick, or he was just stoic when it came to endure pain, because he didn't complain at all about that, but he did resist when they tried to undress him to deal with the burns under his clothes (apparently the fire had burnt Harry's robes but Severus' flesh). Not even as stubborn a man as Severus Snape could offer enough resistance to Poppy and Minerva combined, however, so most of the clothes were eventually vanished.

It was horrible to see the whole extension of the damage, and sickening to know that all those wounds actually belonged to Harry. The boy definitely would not have been able to last so long nor to run head on towards a dragon if he had been this injured. One of Severus' knees had actually been shattered by a spike. He had closed the wound, but it would take Skele-Gro and a touch of Poppy's magic to restore it to full functionality.

"You could have died, Severus," Minerva admonished him. If Harry had not dodged most of the blows and fireballs...

"You know I didn't have a choice," said the man bitterly, taking another swallow of firewhisky straight from the bottle. "I actually thought I would, at the end. And I would have come back as a ghost to haunt that stupid boy!"

Minerva doubted that Harry would have been alive to be haunted if the Killing Curse had failed, but she kept that thought to herself. The way she saw it, Harry and Severus had unknowingly worked as a team to get them both through that deadly task.

"Well," said Poppy finally, closing the jar of Burn-Healing Paste. "The burns are all covered. Most of them will heal just fine with this one layer, except for the ones of your side and left arm that will require a few more applications. The shoulder is all done. I have already settled your knee, but you still have to take Skele-Gro and keep still for at least an hour. I strongly recommend bed rest for a few days, since I'm guessing whatever stupidity you did involved Dark Magic."

"Bed rest is not an option," said Severus sitting up and wincing when his still broken knee moved. "Dumbledore will want to see me soon, and he can't suspect anything. I'll just take a Pepper Up, it's not like it's the first time I perform Dark Magic and can't afford to rest afterwards."

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" demanded Poppy. "And why are you hiding it from the Headmaster?"

"Severus is trying to keep Harry alive through the Tournament, Poppy," explained Minerva. "Dumbledore can't know because he's a judge."

"But... I thought Potter couldn't be helped..."

"I obviously found a way around it," sneered Severus. "Sort of. I am now your patient, Poppy, so you can't betray confidentiality. Now give me the Skele-Gro and go away!"

Poppy and Severus glared at each other for a minute. Finally, Poppy sighed and handed him the potion.

"Fine! But if you are my patient, you will do as I say," she said sternly, pointing her wand at the bottle of firewhisky and vanishing it. "No more alcohol until you're fully recovered. I will personally reapply the Burn-Healing Paste every three hours. And you will go to bed today before midnight and take Dreamless Sleep."

"I will go to bed when I can!" snarled Severus. "And I don't need Dreamless Sleep. Now go away!"

"You need rest, Severus!"

"I need you to go away!"

Poppy looked offended when she left muttering under her breath. Severus was always a difficult person to deal with, but clearly the pain was making it worse. Minerva knew she was the next one to be dismissed, but she sat in front of him nonetheless.

"How much did it cost you, Severus?" she asked very seriously. She didn't know much about Dark Magic, but she knew that it always came with a cost.

"A lot of pain," growled the man, laying his head back on the coach and closing his eyes as the Skele-Gro probably began working.

"What else?"

"I've no idea. I'll look it up later."

Minerva sighed. Severus had no appreciation whatsoever for his own life, he had proven that by swearing a deadly Unbreakable Vow. Now that he was prisoner of said Vow he would just have to do whatever it took to keep it, even if it involved Dark Magic and who knew how many ghastly sacrifices, but she was certain that he would have done it anyway without need of a Vow forcing him to.

She couldn't be less than glad that he was willing to sacrifice himself for Harry, but it made her sad to know that Severus' life had so little value to him. To anyone.