The next day, after a decent lunch in the inn, Severus opened a wooden box that Harry recognized as the one Heriberto had given to his father, and Severus pulled out a small vial, something that couldn't possibly hold more than a tablespoon of a potion. He held out the vial to Harry.
"I want you to start taking this every morning," Severus said.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"You're questioning me?" Severus asked, quirking a brow.
"Of course," Harry said. "You're handing me a strange substance and you haven't told me what it is."
"Good lad," Severus said, smirking at his son. "This is a modified nutritive energy replenishing potion, kind of like the one I had you take when you first came to live with me to fix all those nutrient deficiencies you had. This one is more like a daily vitamin, so to speak, but condensed in a smaller dose and hopefully will be just as efficient. Of course, we'll need to test that based on monthly bloodwork, but I'm sure you're up for a bit of research."
"It does interest me," Harry said, and he slowly took the vial, uncorking it and sniffing, scrunching his nose at the smell. "Eck, how long do I have to take this?"
"We'll start with six months," Severus said. "Just to give us enough time to see a significant change. Don't worry, I wouldn't torture you for long."
"Only long enough for me to regret saying yes," Harry said, but he quickly held his nose and swallowed the small dose. "Why don't you ever take your own research potions?"
"Perks of you being my apprentice," Severus quipped before he sipped his tea. "Now, we should be on our way, we'll miss the first tournament."
"Wait, I thought you were just using the tournament as an excuse to get access to Hogwarts?"
"I am. But we still have tickets for the tournament. So, we should at the very least make an appearance before we leave Hogwarts until the next event. Besides, you might learn something."
"What about the cats?"
"They'll be fine here while we are away."
Harry sighed but washed away the lingering sourness in his mouth with several gulps of his pumpkin juice, then he followed Severus out of the inn to begin their trek to Hogwarts to see what the tournament had in store for the three champions.
The atmosphere surrounding the first task of the TriWizard Tournament was thick with anticipation and a palpable undercurrent of fear. Harry and Severus found seats among the other professors in a carefully made booth while several students stood around the seating area observing the spectacle unfolding in the specially erected arena. Harry liked the advantage of the seats, and he did not miss that Lucius Malfoy was also in attendance higher up in the booth, observing with a superior look on his face not unlike Draco's. Harry made a face at that as he turned in his seat to focus on the show.
Fleur Delacour was the first champion to face her dragon: a magnificent and terrifying Hungarian Horntail. The roar of the Hungarian Horntail echoed through the stands, its scaled hide shimmering menacingly in the afternoon sun.
"She's starting with a Sleeping Charm," Harry murmured, his gaze fixed on the French witch's elegant wand movements.
"A sensible opening," Severus replied in a low voice, "It aims to incapacitate quickly, minimizing risk. However," he added, his eyes sharp as the dragon roared and flicked its tail dismissively, the charm clearly ineffective, "it relies on the dragon being susceptible to such magic. Clearly, this specimen possesses a strong resistance."
Fleur, undeterred, transitioned to a conjuration spell, creating a stream of water that she attempted to direct at the dragon's eyes.
"A clever diversion," Harry observed. "Trying to blind it, even momentarily, would give her an opening to reach the egg."
"Indeed," Severus conceded. "A more adaptable approach. However, water alone will likely do little more than irritate a creature of this magnitude. It lacks the necessary force to truly impede it."
The Horntail snorted, a plume of smoke erupting from its nostrils, and swatted at the water with a claw the size of a small cart, sending droplets scattering across the arena. Fleur, with a flick of her wand, transformed the water into sharp, icy projectiles. These struck the dragon's snout, causing it to recoil with a hiss of pain and momentarily close its eyes. Seizing the opportunity, Fleur gracefully levitated the golden egg towards herself with a swift Accio, securing her prize before the dragon fully recovered.
"Ah, a refinement," Harry noted. "The added sharpness and cold proved just enough to create an opening."
"Precisely," Severus murmured. "A swift exploitation of a momentary weakness. Fairly played."
Next, it was Viktor Krum's turn. He faced a formidable Chinese Fireball, its scarlet and gold scales gleaming like the fire in its eyes. Krum adopted a different tactic, transfiguring a large rock into a smaller, more agile version of himself.
"He's using transfiguration," Harry said, his brow furrowed in thought. "Trying to outmaneuver it, perhaps use his smaller form to get past its defenses?"
"A strategic choice," Severus commented, his gaze analytical. "Krum's approach, while demonstrating impressive transfigurational control, also introduces a layer of detachment from the direct danger. By sending a Transfigured version of himself, he is, in essence, mitigating the personal risk. Should the dragon's flames connect or its claws strike, it is merely enchanted stone that suffers the damage, not himself. While the skill required to maintain such a complex and mobile transfiguration under duress is considerable, it lacks the same visceral engagement with the threat that the other champions displayed."
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
"So, even though it was clever, it wasn't as . . . brave?"
"Bravery is a subjective measure, Harry," Severus replied, his gaze distant for a moment. "However, the judges likely value a direct confrontation with the beast, a demonstration of one's own magical prowess and resilience in the face of danger. Krum's method, while efficient in securing the egg, introduces a degree of separation from the inherent peril of the task. It prioritizes the objective over a direct display of personal fortitude."
Krum, in his transfigured state, darted around the arena, the Fireball's fiery blasts narrowly missing him. He made several attempts to snatch the egg, but the dragon's movements, though less agile, were still formidable. In his frantic maneuvers, however, the Fireball inadvertently crushed several of its own eggs nestled in the arena, a detail that drew gasps from the crowd and disapproving murmurs from the judges. Finally, with a burst of speed, the transfigured Krum swooped low, grabbing the golden egg in his beak before the dragon could react, then swiftly retreated, handing off the egg to the actual Krum before it fell apart.
"He relied heavily on speed," Harry pointed out, a hint of concern in his voice as Krum was forced to make hasty retreats. "But the judges didn't look pleased about the eggs . . ."
"Indeed," Severus murmured. "A successful retrieval, but a costly one. An awareness of one's surroundings, even under duress, is crucial. That display of carelessness will likely impact his score."
Finally, it was Cedric Diggory's turn. He faced a sleek and dangerous Swedish Short-Snout, its silvery blue scales almost camouflaging it against the dusty ground. Cedric approached with quiet confidence, his wand held steady.
"He's . . . transfiguring a rock?" Harry questioned, watching as Cedric transformed a large stone. "Hopefully not to do what Krum just did."
But instead of taking the shape of a smaller human, the rock took the distinct form of a lively Labrador, complete with a wagging tail and playful yaps.
The Short-Snout, initially focused on Cedric, was immediately distracted by the sudden appearance of the dog. Its reptilian curiosity seemed piqued by the unexpected creature. It lowered its head, sniffing cautiously at the transfigured Labrador, which barked and bounded playfully around its snout. Seizing this crucial moment of distraction, Cedric swiftly dashed towards the nest, snatched the golden egg, and retreated to safety just as the Short-Snout seemed to realize it had been duped. The transfigured dog vanished into thin air as the dragon roared in frustration.
"Clever!" Harry exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. "He used transfiguration not to attack, but to distract! The dragon wasn't expecting that at all."
"An ingenious application of the spell," Severus conceded, a rare hint of approval in his tone. "He recognized that a direct confrontation might be too risky against such a swift creature. Utilizing its natural curiosity to create an opening demonstrates commendable quick thinking. Krum favored agility through transfiguration, though with unfortunate consequences. Diggory utilized transfiguration for a clever diversion, far more practical in my opinion."
They watched as Cedric was cheered by the Hogwarts students, the golden egg clutched tightly in his hand. Harry smiled as he watched the group of Hufflepuff students losing their minds over Cedric's accomplishment. The cheers for Cedric Diggory faded as the crowd began to disperse, a buzz of excitement and nervous relief filling the air. Severus subtly guided Harry away from the stands. However, the professors, slowly leaving the stands themselves, were engaged in a low-voiced discussion, their eyes occasionally flicking in Harry's direction.
"Remarkable performance from all the champions," Professor Sprout said, her tone relieved. "Though that Fireball was rather agitated."
"Diggory's use of transfiguration was . . . unorthodox, but undeniably effective," Professor Flitwick added, his small stature making him crane his neck to see over the crowd. "Very inventive."
Professor McGonagall, however, had a thoughtful frown on her face, though she did her best to keep her voice low.
"It does make one wonder about young Mr. Potter, doesn't it? If he has been taught with such . . . creative applications of magic, what else might he know?"
"Indeed," Professor Sprout agreed. "Severus was always a brilliant student, but his methods . . . they were certainly his own. One hopes the boy is receiving a well-rounded education."
"He seems composed," Professor Flitwick offered, his voice hesitant. "And he clearly understands the principles behind the magic. But is it enough?"
Harry had been trying to ignore what he could hear the other professor's saying, but then Severus halted, and he skidded to a stop next to his father, who seemed to grind his teeth before turning slowly to face the group of professors, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.
"Forgive me for the interruption," he drawled, his voice carrying with a subtle edge despite its conversational tone. "But I couldn't help but overhear your . . . concerned deliberations regarding my son's academic standing. Rest assured, Minerva, Pomona, Filius. Harry has received a more than 'well-rounded' education. He has, in fact, excelled on all Ministry-approved examinations, often achieving scores that would likely put many of your own students to shame."
His eyes flickered pointedly between them.
A flush crept up Professor McGonagall's neck.
"Severus, we were merely . . ."
Before she could formulate a proper response, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody's gruff voice cut through the awkward silence.
"All this talk about exams! They don't tell you what a wizard's truly made of. We saw what those champions could do against a dragon. That's real magic, real pressure."
"What are you saying?" Severus asked. "You don't think Harry can handle a little . . . pressure?"
"I'm just saying that ministry exams don't tell the whole story, Snape." Moody, his magical eye swiveling wildly, fixed his gaze on Harry. "Let's see how your boy fares against someone his own age, in a practical setting."
Severus's eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice remained level. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"And what precisely did you have in mind, Moody?"
Moody grinned, a disturbing sight with his scarred face and manic gaze.
"A duel, of course. A friendly spar. Just to gauge the lad's . . . practical aptitudes."
A collective gasp went through the students. Professor McGonagall looked aghast.
"Alastor, that is hardly appropriate!" she said.
"Nonsense, Minerva," Moody growled. "A bit of healthy competition never hurt anyone. Unless, of course, Snape is worried his precious prodigy can't measure up."
Harry gave his father a curious look. Severus considered for a moment, his gaze flicking between Moody's unsettling stare and the concerned faces of the other professors. A small, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips.
"Very well, Moody," he said, his tone deceptively nonchalant. "A brief demonstration should prove most enlightening."
A hush fell over the gathering crowd. It appeared they had garnered the entire stadium's attention, and now they were the spectacle on show. Hermione and several other Gryffindors had pushed their way through to the center where a circle had formed around the professors and Severus and Harry. Even Lucius Malfoy had paused in his retreat to observe among the other professors keeping a distance from the confrontation. Harry looked at his father, a mixture of apprehension and excitement churning within him. It wasn't often he was given the chance to duel someone who wasn't his father.
"Excellent!" Moody clapped his hands together. "We'll have young . . . Weasley," he gestured to Ron, who was standing nearby, "referee. And Potter here can face . . . Malfoy." He pointed to Draco, who was standing with a group of Slytherins. Draco's grin was large as he pulled out his wand and stepped forward.
Severus leaned down to Harry, his voice low.
"Play nice," he murmured.
Harry nodded then pulled out his own wand and stepped forward. This was just a demonstration after all. Moody waved his arms around, gesturing for the crowd to back up more and widen the circle around Draco, Harry, and Ron. Harry, remembering what he had been taught of formal duels, walked to the center of the circle, then bowed lowly, and Draco copied him, giving him a cold sneer as he did so.
They straightened up and backed away from each other, holding their wands at the ready. Students whispered excitedly, their eyes darting between Harry and Draco. The professors watched with varying degrees of concern and curiosity.
Ron, looking flustered but trying to appear authoritative, called, "Wands at the ready! On the count of three . . . One . . . Two . . . Three!"
Draco was the first to act, a flash of blue light erupting from his wand.
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry reacted with a speed that belied his apparent lack of formal dueling experience. His wand flicked upwards, a shimmering, translucent shield erupting just moments before the disarming charm could connect. The force of the spell slammed against the protective barrier with a sharp crack, the magical energy dissipating harmlessly.
A murmur of surprise rippled through the onlookers; it was a more potent shield than many fourth-years could conjure.
Frustrated by his initial failure, Draco snarled and immediately launched a Stinging Hex. A jet of orange light shot towards Harry, but the younger boy was already moving. With a fluid sidestep, he evaded the hex, the orange light sizzling harmlessly into a shield Professor McGonagall conjured around the nearby students. His own wand remained steady, observing Draco's frantic movements.
The initial exchanges were cautious, almost polite, as Severus had instructed. Harry kept his spells simple, a basic Shield Charm here, a non-verbal Deflecto there, effortlessly turning aside the weak jinxes Draco threw his way. He was testing the waters, gauging his opponent's skill and preferred tactics. Draco, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly agitated as his spells missed their mark with frustrating regularity.
Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, Harry sent a well-aimed Expelliarmus of his own. The red light struck Draco's wand hand with a surprising jolt, and the Slytherin's yelp of surprise was cut short as his wand spun through the air and clattered to the ground. A collective gasp went through the observing students. Harry, however, merely stood his ground, his own wand lowered slightly, allowing Draco to scramble and retrieve his weapon.
The duel gradually intensified. Draco, his pale face flushed with anger, abandoned any pretense of finesse. He began to employ more aggressive tactics, firing off a rapid succession of jinxes and hexes – a clumsy Bat-Bogey Hex that Harry easily vanished with a wave of his wand, a weak Leg-Locker Curse that Harry simply hopped over with an almost bored expression. Each of Draco's attacks was wild and inaccurate, fueled by his growing rage.
In contrast, Harry moved with a calm precision. He wasn't just defending; he was subtly probing. He landed a few light Stunning Spells that Draco only narrowly blocked with hastily erected shields, each near-hit adding to the Slytherin's mounting frustration. One well-aimed Impedimenta caught the edge of Draco's robes, causing him to stumble momentarily, eliciting a snicker from a few Gryffindor students.
Then, Draco, his face contorted in a fierce sneer, aimed low. A tripping jinx, a streak of dark purple light, shot towards Harry's feet.
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, stumbling slightly as his heel caught on the invisible magical tripwire. "That's a foul!"
He looked towards Moody, expecting an immediate reprimand for the underhanded tactic. But the grizzled ex-Auror merely watched with a disconcerting grin, his magical eye whirring. "No rules in a real fight, Potter."
"What?" Harry snapped, throwing his hands out indignantly.
A wave of confusion and indignation washed over Harry. He glanced at his father, a silent question in his eyes. Severus, standing impassively at the edge of the makeshift arena, gave the slightest of nods and a barely perceptible tightening of his lips.
Understanding flashed in Harry's eyes. He turned back to Malfoy, his earlier restraint vanishing, replaced by a renewed determination. Draco, sensing the shift in Harry's demeanor, launched a Blasting Charm. Instead of simply shielding, Harry dodged the attack and flicked his wand, conjuring a thick, swirling cloud of purple smoke that billowed outwards, obscuring Draco's vision. While the Slytherin coughed and waved his wand to clear the air, Harry vanished into the smoke himself.
Draco, momentarily blinded, fired off wild hexes into the dissipating smoke. Suddenly, the smoke took the shape of a tall, humanoid being that lunged forward, as if wanting to grab Draco. As Draco whirled around and backed away in surprise, Harry exploded from the remaining tendrils of smoke, not with a direct attack, but with a clever diversion. He conjured a series of small, glittering orbs of light that zipped and darted around Draco's head, momentarily distracting him.
In that split second of disorientation, Harry unleashed his real attack. A rapid-fire succession of two spells, executed with precision and power. First, a Glacius charm, freezing the ground directly in front of Draco's feet, followed immediately by a forceful Flipendo that sent the Slytherin skidding on the ice, his feet flying out from under him. He crashed to the ground with a yelp, his wand skittering across the ice far away from him as he slid to a halt near Harry, who stood over him, his wand tip glowing faintly as it remained trained on the disarmed and sprawled Draco, who stared at Harry wide-eyed.
The silence was absolute, broken only by Hermione's enthusiastic, if somewhat belated, applause. She clapped a few times before realizing the stunned expressions around her and awkwardly stopped, though a proud smile remained on her face. Somewhere in the crowd, Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes and walked off, disappearing swiftly.
Harry looked towards his father, who stood with a rare, undisguised smirk playing on his lips.
Harry warmed the ground, melting the ice, and Draco stumbled to his feet as soon as he could, scrambling for his wand, then stormed off, Crabbe and Goyle following him swiftly.
"That's not fair, Snape!" Moody barked, pushing past a petrified-looking student to confront Severus. "Half those spells aren't even taught to sixth years!"
"Oh, yes," Severus said casually, his gaze unwavering. "I should have mentioned that Harry is quite advanced in his dueling classes. Though, perhaps a more controlled environment would be preferable for future . . . assessments, Moody? Potions, perhaps? I assure you, his understanding of ingredient synergy and brewing techniques is equally advanced."
Moody's magical eye whirled, fixing on Severus with a frustrated glare. He seemed to recognize the futility of pushing further in a field where Snape clearly held the advantage.
"Blast it all," he muttered, turning abruptly and stomping away through the dispersing crowd. "Waste of my bloody time."
Professor McGonagall, looking flustered but regaining her composure, clapped her hands together.
"Alright, everyone! That's enough excitement for one afternoon. Please, head back to the castle. Let's have no more impromptu duels outside, please." She gave Severus a pointed look before turning and ushering the students inside.
Harry turned to his father, a triumphant grin on his face.
"Did you see, Dad? The way I used that smoke creature as a diversion, just like Cedric and the Labrador!"
Severus smiled briefly at his son.
"Indeed, Harry. A commendable display of quick thinking and tactical adaptation. A new tactic, and a decisive win. Well done."
Before Harry could reply, a veritable explosion of red and gold enveloped him. Hermione practically launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around him in a bone-crushing hug.
"Harry! That was unbelievably brilliant! You were absolutely phenomenal! I knew you were clever, but that was pure genius!" Her eyes sparkled with admiration, and she bounced slightly on the balls of her feet.
Ron, his mouth hanging open in genuine awe, thumped Harry on the back with more force than intended.
"Blimey, Harry! You completely flattened him! Malfoy looked like he'd just swallowed a whole bag of sour gnomes! That smoke thing . . . Merlin's beard, that was amazing!"
Neville, usually so timid, was practically beaming, his eyes wide with wonder.
"That smoke creature—it looked so real! And the way you froze the floor! Harry, that was, well, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen!" Several other Gryffindors surged forward, a chorus of excited voices overlapping.
"Harry, you were incredible!"
"He didn't stand a chance!"
"That shield you did at the beginning was wicked!"
Hermione, still clinging to his arm, turned to him with an eager expression.
"Harry, those spells weren't anything we've learned, or likely will learn. Where did you learn to do that? Can you, I mean, it would be nice if you maybe show us sometime?"
Ron chimed in, his eyes gleaming.
"Yeah! That smoke trick was brilliant! Could you teach us that? Imagine the possibilities!"
"We could spend time in the library a bit before dinner," Neville said.
Harry, a wide grin spreading across his face, felt a warmth bloom in his chest at their enthusiastic praise. He glanced over his shoulder at his father, who was observing the scene with a an impassive expression. Severus gave a small, acknowledging nod. Harry grinned and mouthed a "thank you" to his father before turning back to his friends.
"Sure, I'm free," Harry said, feeling a surge of camaraderie. He allowed himself to be happily swept along by the boisterous crowd of Gryffindors, their excited chatter and questions filling the air as they made their way towards the castle.
Later that day, the warmth of the Three Broomsticks Inn was a welcome contrast to the chilly air of the Hogwarts grounds. As Harry stepped inside, his face lit up. Perched regally on a velvet cushion near the crackling fire were Boomslang and Belladonna.
"Boomer! Bella!" Harry called out, crouching down.
Boomslang, ever affectionate, launched himself off the cushion with a joyful meow, weaving between Harry's legs and rubbing against his shins, purring like a tiny motor. Belladonna, however, merely blinked her golden eyes at Harry before turning her attention back to the spot on the floor where Severus had likely last been. She offered a soft chirp, a clear preference for her more reserved human.
"He's just gone on a quick errand, Harry," Madam Rosmerta said with a warm smile as she polished a tankard behind the bar. "Said he wouldn't be long. Gave the little dears their supper already."
Harry ruffled Boomslang's fur, the cat's purr vibrating against his hand. He felt a pang of guilt for leaving them alone for so long, even though it had only been a day. He knew Boomslang missed him. Belladonna, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content in Severus's absence.
Deciding to find a snack while he waited for his father, Harry wandered towards a quieter corner of the inn. He was just reaching for a plate of pumpkin pasties when he heard a familiar, gravelly voice.
"Snape . . . always lurking in the shadows. Never trusted him, never will."
Harry froze, recognizing Alastor Moody's distinct growl. He strained his ears, trying to discern who Moody was talking to.
"Mark my words," Moody continued, his voice slightly muffled but still audible. "His allegiances . . . they're shadier than a Niffler's burrow. Just watch him. Something's not right there."
Curiosity overriding caution, Harry started to edge closer to the source of the conversation, wanting to hear more about what Moody was saying about his father and to whom. He took a few silent steps behind a large, tapestry-covered pillar when a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Harry jumped, turning to see Severus, his expression unreadable. Severus's dark eyes flickered towards the direction of Moody's voice, then back to Harry. He raised a single finger to his lips and then gestured discreetly towards the stairs with a slight tilt of his head.
Harry nodded, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. They retreated silently up the creaking wooden stairs and back to their rented room, Boomslang and Belladonna at their heels.
Once the door was closed and a silencing charm discreetly placed, Harry finally spoke.
"I don't like him talking about you like that. He's just spreading lies."
Severus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
"People are entitled to their opinions, Harry, however ill-informed they may be. Especially someone like Moody, who has seen much darkness in his time."
He fixed Harry with a stern look. "And what, pray tell, were you doing lurking behind pillars? What have I told you about eavesdropping?"
Harry shuffled his feet.
"It's only good if it answers life or death questions," he mumbled, then added softly, "Not for listening to petty gossip."
"The average man would still frown upon such behavior. I suggest you heed more caution in the future as well." He moved towards their packed trunks. "Now, have you finished packing? We leave first thing in the morning."
Harry, feeling a little chastised but still bothered by Moody's words, started to tidy the few belongings they had unpacked. "When is the next task?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
Severus consulted a small, enchanted calendar he kept in his pocket.
"Not until February, after the Yule Ball. We will return then." He gave Harry a brief, reassuring look. "For now, let us focus on returning home."
"Yeah, I kind of miss home. We missed Halloween this year." Harry smiled softly. "I didn't get to scare any of the neighborhood kids. We've got to keep the house's reputation strong, you know."
"You have created weird traditions for yourself," Severus said with a raised brow.
Harry shrugged, a playful smirk on his face.
"Hey, someone's gotta show those Muggles that there's more to life than traffic jams and telly. Think of me as a purveyor of controlled chaos." He punctuated his statement with a playful poke at Boomslang, who blinked languidly in response.
"I've raised a menace," Severus said, a hint of a fond smile playing on his lips despite the exasperated tone.