A/N - Obviously I own none of the below. Playing in JK's playground.
Chapter Five – Doubts and Trepidation
Harry sat cross-legged on his bed in the private dorm, a collection of parchment scattered around him like fallen leaves. His thoughts were racing after a whirlwind week of introductions and meetings with his new professors, each encounter a reminder of just how different Hogwarts was from what he'd imagined. A twinge of doubt tugged at him—a feeling that had been growing stronger with every passing day.
He glanced down at his hands, still slightly shaking from his latest session with Professor Flitwick. The small, cheerful man had been nothing but kind, but the advanced Charms he'd been working on were intense. Flitwick had taught him intricate Shield Charms and Disarming Spells, far more powerful than Harry had ever seen, and while he had managed to get through the lesson, the level of skill expected was overwhelming. The reality of the Triwizard Tournament loomed larger in his mind than ever. Flitwick had also placed him in the seventh-year classes.
Seventh year. Harry couldn't shake the nervous energy that clung to him. McGonagall had done the same in Transfiguration after their meeting. She'd been surprisingly warm, recounting stories of teaching his parents and Sirius, even teasing him with a few funny tales. She'd been gutted, she'd said, that he hadn't come to Hogwarts from the start. But despite her affection, she hadn't gone easy on him—telling him that while his magic was strong, he lacked the precision and intent to make it truly effective.
"You need to practice visualizing the entire object, Harry, not just the shape. Think about the weight, the temperature—how it feels in your hands. It's not just about what it looks like but the essence of what you're creating."
Her advice echoed in his mind as he ran a finger over the edge of the parchment in front of him. He wasn't sure if he belonged in the seventh-year class at all. He could feel the gaps in his knowledge widening like a chasm, one he didn't know how to bridge.
And then, there was Professor Snape.
Harry's heart sank just thinking about their meeting. It had been the most difficult of all. Where McGonagall and Flitwick had treated him with a mix of challenge and encouragement, Snape had been cold, his voice a blade as he dissected Harry's potions knowledge—or lack thereof. He decided against placing Harry in the advanced class. Instead, Snape had placed him in the fourth-year Potions, a decision that felt like a reality check.
Sirius had warned him about Snape, had told him the man wouldn't make things easy. But nothing had prepared him for the look of disdain in Snape's eyes, the way his lip curled as if he couldn't bear the sight of Harry. Every word out of Snape's mouth was laced with cutting disdain.
"You may have got lucky against the Dark Lord, Potter, but you are gravely underestimating the subtle art of potion-making if you think you can waltz in here and expect to keep up with your peers," Snape had said, his voice slick with venom. "You have neither the discipline nor the precision."
Harry had felt his throat tighten, the familiar ache of insecurity gnawing at him. He had stood there, silent, under Snape's cold gaze, feeling exposed in a way that not even battling dark wizards had made him feel. There had been a flicker of something in Snape's eyes during their meeting, though—something beyond the usual disdain, like he was searching for something in Harry, trying to understand him. But that only made Harry feel more vulnerable.
Snape's assessment had been clinical, brutal even, but Harry knew there was truth in his words. He lacked the refinement of the students who had grown up in this world, who had spent years honing their craft under Hogwarts' best teachers. He was powerful—Sirius had told him as much—but power without control meant nothing.
He sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. How could he balance all of this? The pressure to survive the tournament, to prove himself in a school he'd never even attended, to master magic at a level he wasn't sure he could reach in time. And above it all, there was the growing fear that maybe Snape was right—maybe he didn't have what it took.
A gentle knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts.
"Come in," Harry called, though his voice sounded tired, even to himself.
Sirius stepped inside, his usual laid-back demeanour a little more subdued than usual. He could tell something was weighing on Harry. His eyes flicked over the scattered parchment, the tense lines in Harry's shoulders.
"Rough day?" Sirius asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed.
Harry nodded. "You could say that." He handed Sirius the letter from Charlie Weasley, his mind still half-focused on the interactions with his professors. "Dragons… Charlie says it's about strategy. Basically, distraction is the best way to go."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Well, at least we have the start of the plan."
"I met with all the professors," Harry said quietly, his voice thick with frustration. "Flitwick and McGonagall placed me in seventh-year classes, but Snape… told me I'm barely good enough to stay with the fourth-years." His hands clenched tightly around the edges of his blanket, frustration radiating off him. "It feels like I'm all over the place. I'm good at some things but completely hopeless at others."
Sirius remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Harry, searching for the right words. He could see the vulnerability in his godson's eyes, the weight of expectation pressing down on him from every side.
"You know what that tells me?" Sirius finally asked, his voice low and contemplative.
Harry shook his head, uncertainty flooding through him. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Sirius had to say.
"It tells me you're capable of greatness," Sirius replied, leaning forward, his tone steady and encouraging. "But you need to let go of this idea that you have to be perfect in everything. Minnie and Professor Flitwick wouldn't have placed you in those advanced classes if they didn't believe you could handle the challenge. They see something in you, Harry—something special. They wouldn't set you up for failure."
He paused for a moment, allowing his words to settle in the air between them. "As for Snape… well, he has his own reasons for the way he teaches. But even he can't deny your talent, no matter how hard he tries. He might seem tough on you, but that's his way of pushing you to rise to the occasion. Underneath all that scorn, he knows you've got what it takes."
Harry met Sirius's gaze, searching for reassurance. "But what if I'm not ready? I don't just mean for the tournament. We all know what the prophecy says. I'm going to have to face one of the most powerful wizards in history. It's not just about winning the tournament; it's about survival. I have moments when I can see that greatness in myself, but then setbacks come—failures that remind me I'm nothing special. What if I don't live up to it?"
Sirius's expression softened as he listened. "Harry, greatness isn't about never failing; it's about how you rise after you fall. Every great wizard has faced doubt, setbacks, and fear. What matters is your response to those challenges. You're not defined by your moments of weakness but by your determination to push through them. You've already overcome so much, and you're still standing here. That counts for a lot more than you realize."
Harry reflected on Sirius's words, feeling a flicker of hope amid his doubts. "So you really think I can do this?"
"I know you can," Sirius replied firmly, his voice unwavering. "Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you. You may not see it yet, but you're capable of far more than you give yourself credit for. It's time to embrace that potential, flaws and all."
Sirius leaned in closer, intensity in his eyes. "You've been under pressure for years—pressure that would crush people twice your age. You've got this, Harry."
Harry nodded, though he still felt raw and vulnerable. The pressure was mounting, but Sirius's words offered him a small sense of relief. He didn't need to have all the answers just yet; he just needed to keep moving forward.
"Anyway, enough with the heavy stuff. I'm starving, and it's time for lunch," Sirius said after a beat, his voice brightening with enthusiasm. "After that, we can sit down and talk strategy for the first task. Maybe see if Hermione and Neville want to join us? We can come up with a plan to—"
"—not get incinerated by the dragon?" Harry interrupted, a chuckle escaping his lips despite the weight on his mind.
Sirius laughed, the sound ringing with warmth. "Exactly! It's all about strategy, my boy." The atmosphere lightened, the burdens momentarily lifted as they made their way toward the Great Hall together, united in determination and a touch of humour.
As they settled into a corner table in the Great Hall, the aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted around them, mingling with the chatter of students. Harry's stomach grumbled in response, but he pushed the hunger aside for the moment. This was a critical meeting, and he felt a rush of relief to be surrounded by friends who were eager to help him strategize for the upcoming task.
"Alright, let's dive into Charlie's letter first," Sirius began, before casting a privacy charm. "Neville, what did he say again?"
"He mentioned that facing the dragon head-on isn't the smartest move," Neville said, glancing down at the parchment he had pulled from his pocket. "Distracting them works best, but you have to be quick about it—they've got short attention spans. Plus, Charlie pointed out that dragons are nesting at this time of year, which means they can be extra protective of their territory." He shot a concerned look at Sirius, his expression tinged with worry. "I mean, it sounds dangerous."
"Piece of cake!" Sirius laughed, leaning back in his seat. "But really, Charlie's a legend with those creatures. We're lucky to have him in our corner and I think distraction is the way to go."
Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed as she sifted through her own thoughts. "We need a solid plan. Harry, what do you think your best bet is for this first task?"
Harry leaned forward, feeling the warmth of their support. "I was thinking… I could disillusion myself to sneak around and create a distraction. If I can keep myself hidden while I figure out what to do, maybe I can complete the task without getting into direct confrontation with the dragon."
"Disillusion yourself?" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. "That's a seventh-year spell! How are you planning on doing that?"
"It's not that hard," Harry shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I mean, I sometimes struggle to hold it for long periods, but I can do it." He hesitated, then added, "At least, I think I can."
"Harry, you could disillusion yourself two years ago!" Neville said, his enthusiasm brightening the mood. "You'll be fine. You could create a distraction with something nearby—maybe set something on fire or cause a noise somewhere else. While the dragon's distracted, you can slip by and do what you need to."
"Set something on fire? Sounds like a great idea!" Sirius joked, pretending to look horrified. "Let's not add 'arsonist' to your list of titles. We're aiming for 'Dragon Slayer,' not 'Boy Who Burnt Down Hogwarts.'"
Harry chuckled, feeling lighter. "I'm not planning on burning down anything, Sirius. Just...maybe creating a little chaos. Surely there's something I could use to make it happen. Worst case I could conjure something."
"Right! Use the environment to your advantage," Hermione chimed in, her tone shifting to that of a professor. "You could use the obstacles in the arena to cover your movements."
"Exactly," Harry agreed, feeling the plan come together. "I'll keep the Disillusionment Charm active and use something to distract it while I figure out how to complete the task. It's all about keeping the dragon occupied so I can do what I need to without drawing attention."
"It might be worth casting a scent masking charm," Sirius added. "and something to silence your footsteps."
Harry nodded, trying to take it all in.
"And if all else fails," Sirius added with a wink, "just look incredibly charming while you're running for your life. I hear it works wonders."
"Brilliant." Harry chuckled.
"It's a solid strategy, Harry," Neville said, nodding earnestly. "You've got this."
Harry felt a surge of confidence as he looked at his friends—Sirius, Neville, and Hermione, all offering their support and insights. For the first time since hearing about the first task, he felt hopeful. The pressure was still there, but now he didn't have to face it alone.
"Thanks, guys. Really," he said, a sincere smile breaking through. "I feel a lot better about this now."
"Good! Let's eat and brainstorm some more," Hermione said, already reaching for a plate of food. "Harry let's make sure you practice that Disillusionment Charm a lot more. Do you think you could show me how to do it?"
"Deal!" Harry replied, feeling a sense of camaraderie enveloping him. They dove into their lunch, laughter and banter filling the air around their table, lightening the heaviness that had been hanging over Harry's thoughts. With friends like these, he was ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead, even dragons.
The sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows across the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts. An elaborate obstacle course sprawled at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, designed to test Harry's agility, focus, and magical prowess. At its centre, a bright red flag fluttered, a beacon calling to him.
"Remember, Harry," Sirius instructed, his voice steady and encouraging, "you need to retrieve that flag while we try to find you. Use everything you've got to distract us. Ready?"
"Ready!" Harry replied, determination shining in his eyes.
"Go!" Sirius shouted, and Harry took a deep breath before casting the Disillusionment Charm. In an instant, he blended into the environment, the sun's rays refracting off him just enough to keep him hidden from view.
As he dashed into the course, he could hear Sirius, Neville, and Hermione preparing to track him down. With the charm cloaking him, he felt a surge of confidence. But he knew he had to be cautious; moving too quickly would betray his position.
Harry carefully navigated the maze of barriers and pitfalls, his heart racing as he made his way toward the flag. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a series of small explosions behind him, creating bursts of colorful sparks that lit up the air. The loud pops echoed as he sprinted through a narrow passage, weaving around obstacles.
"Did you see that?" Neville called out, peering through the thick foliage. "He's behind that wall!"
"Keep moving! He won't get far," Sirius urged, already conjuring a fire spell and sending it toward the barrier in front of him. The flames licked the air, scorching the earth, but Harry was already one step ahead.
Harry focused on the path ahead, spotting a group of barrels stacked precariously. He quickly levitated them, sending them tumbling down the course behind him as he sprinted toward the flag. The distraction sent Neville and Hermione scrambling, their shouts mingling with the noise.
"Look out!" Neville called, dodging the flying barrels.
As he made his way through the course, Harry's footsteps whispered against the ground, but he could hear his pursuers drawing closer. He raised his wand, casting a non-verbal shield charm just as Sirius sent another fire spell his way. The flames whooshed past him, but the shield gave away his position.
"C'mon, focus, Harry!" he muttered to himself, diving behind a barrier just as another spell shot in his direction.
Determined, he conjured more distractions, causing vines to entangle nearby obstacles and sending a few stray rocks flying into the air. The chaos bought him precious seconds, allowing him to slip through a gap in the barriers.
"Harry, we're right behind you!" Sirius shouted, his voice echoing across the course.
With his heart pounding, Harry leapt toward the flag, fingers grazing the fabric when suddenly, a blast of fire erupted from the direction of his friends.
"Protego!" he shouted, casting a shield just in time to absorb the flames. The impact resonated through his bones, but he held firm, refusing to back down.
"Got him!" Neville shouted, sending a dazzling explosion of light toward Harry's last known position. "He's over there!"
Using the momentary distraction to his advantage, Harry pulled the flag from its pole, feeling a surge of exhilaration wash over him. He turned to face his friends, lifting the flag high above his head.
But just as he did, Sirius unleashed one last fire spell, the flames barrelling toward him. In a panic, Harry non-verbally summoned a nearby boulder, using it as a barrier to block the fire.
The flames enveloped the crate, but Harry remained steady, holding the flag aloft with a triumphant smile.
"Nice work, Harry!" Sirius laughed, a mix of admiration and playful disbelief in his voice. "But next time, try not to burn the place down!"
Harry lowered the flag, panting but exhilarated. "I'll keep that in mind for next time!"
As his friends approached, grins on their faces, Harry felt a rush of pride. He had faced the challenge head-on, and with their help, he was one step closer to mastering his skills.
"Alright, let's set up for the next round," Hermione said, her eyes bright with excitement. "I think we can push you even further!"
Later that night, in the cozy warmth of Sirius Black's private quarters, the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls. A large oak table was set with a simple bottle of firewhisky and two glasses, their amber contents glistening in the firelight. Remus Lupin sat across from Sirius, his face lined with the familiar weariness of years, yet softened by the shared company. Sirius leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed than he had in days, but a subtle tension still lingered in the set of his shoulders.
Sirius poured the firewhisky, sliding a glass toward Lupin with a faint smile. "To Harry," he said, raising his glass.
Lupin nodded, clinking his glass against Sirius's before taking a sip. "To Harry."
For a moment, the two friends sat in silence, the crackling fire filling the quiet. Sirius stared into his drink, the corners of his mouth pulling upward. "You know, Moony... I think he's going to handle the dragon just fine. He's more prepared than we ever were at his age. Hell, he's more prepared than I was in my twenties."
Lupin smiled softly, swirling his glass. "You've trained him well. He's sharp. And he's got your recklessness, which—oddly enough—works in his favor sometimes."
Sirius chuckled, but the sound didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, maybe too much of that. Merlin knows he'll need it in that arena."
Lupin studied him, noticing the shift in Sirius's tone. "But something's still bothering you."
Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "I'm confident he'll face the dragon. It's everything else that's eating at me. How he got entered in the first place. Who's pulling the strings. It feels... wrong. Like we're playing right into someone's hands."
Lupin took another sip, nodding in agreement. "I know… I do. All we can hold onto is that he's strong and prepared. He's smart, Sirius. You've made sure of that."
Sirius's face tightened. "That's the problem, though, isn't it?" He looked into his glass, as if searching for answers. "I've spent so much time making him into someone who could survive this war—training him, preparing him for the worst. But sometimes I wonder..." He trailed off, eyes distant.
Lupin frowned, leaning forward slightly. "What do you wonder?"
Sirius exhaled, a heavy sound that hung in the air. "I wonder if I took his childhood from him. All those years we could've just been... a family. He's spent so much time with me learning to fight, learning to be strong. Maybe he should've been allowed to be a kid, even just for a little while longer."
The fire crackled softly as Lupin considered his words. "He was never going to have a normal childhood, Sirius. Not with Voldemort still out there, not with the weight of the prophecy on his shoulders. But because of you, he's had something close to a family. That matters more than you think."
Sirius gave a small, bitter laugh. "Some family. I'm his godfather, but half the time I feel like I'm more his drill sergeant. What kind of life is that for a fifteen-year-old? The Triwizard Tournament—this whole bloody tournament—it's just another trap, another way to test him, and I can't shake the feeling that I pushed him right into it."
Lupin set his glass down gently, his gaze steady. "Sirius, Harry's stronger because of you. He's had to grow up fast, yes, but he's had you by his side. He's not had to live in a foster home, or worse... the Dursleys. You've given him the tools to survive, and more than that, you've given him someone who cares about him. He's not fighting alone."
Sirius's shoulders sagged as he leaned back in his chair, staring into the flames. "I know you're right, Moony. I do. It's just..." He trailed off, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. "I look at him sometimes and I see James. I promised him I'd protect Harry, and sometimes I wonder if I'm doing that right. Am I protecting him, or am I just preparing him for war?"
Lupin's expression softened as he reached across the table, placing a hand on Sirius's arm. "You're doing both. And you're doing it the only way you know how. That's all anyone can ask."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of their shared past and the uncertain future hung between them like a heavy cloak. Then, Sirius drained his glass and refilled both of their drinks, his lips curling into a wry smile.
"To surviving the madness we're about to walk into," he said, lifting his glass once more.
Lupin mirrored the gesture, his eyes glinting with both warmth and understanding. "To Harry, and to all of us." They clinked glasses again, the sound a quiet reminder that, no matter how dark things seemed, they still had each other to lean on.
As the fire continued to crackle, Sirius allowed himself a moment of quiet hope. Harry was ready for this task, for whatever came next. And no matter what, Sirius would be there to see him through it.
Then, with a sudden spark of enthusiasm, Lupin leaned forward, a grin breaking across his face. "You know what? After the first task, we should throw a celebration for Harry. It's been so busy since we got to Hogwarts. He hasn't had time to stop. It's been one thing after another. I think it would be good for him"
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. "A party, huh? Frank and Alice have already said they are coming to watch. I could talk to Andi and Tonks too. It's a great idea." Said Sirius, a large grin forming on his face.
"Exactly!" Lupin chuckled, his eyes lighting up. "We can invite the whole gang. It'll be a nice break from all the seriousness."
Sirius nodded, the tension easing a bit. "Alright then, let's do it. A celebration for Harry sounds just what we need."
With renewed spirits, they shared a laugh, the warmth of friendship wrapping around them as they turned their thoughts to the festivities ahead.
The first task is next. Reviews please. PLEASE!