With the news that Rita Skeeter was sneaking around the castle, Harry's paranoia ramped back up to a hundred. He had far too many secrets to risk slipping up with any one of them. If he wasn't in or between classes, he was under his invisibility cloak or enveloped by a privacy ward. He made sure to pass the information on to those who shared his secrets, too, which turned into an impromptu study group on privacy wards and silencing spells.
"I don't know how she's getting around, so she could be anywhere," he told the other heirs in their fortnightly meeting. "Just make sure you're never discussing secrets — mine or your own — without putting some kind of warding up."
"Thanks for the heads up, Harry," Ernie said, looking grim-faced. "I had wondered how she was getting all those quotes from the Slytherins. Obviously they're in the know."
Several heads turned towards the trio of Slytherins in the group, but all of them shook their heads. "I haven't heard anything," Blaise said, "but people know I'm at least civil with Harry now, so they're not likely to tell me. These two, either." After the Yule Ball, it was somewhat established that Harry was on good terms with the three Slytherins, and willing to spend time with others. There were plenty of people — Dumbledore most significantly — who didn't seem thrilled by the Boy-Who-Lived's extended social group, but at this point Harry was past caring. He couldn't hide away forever, especially not if he wanted to be able to make real changes when he came of age.
Harry remembered seeing quotes from Crabbe and Goyle in the article, as well as from Parkinson, and made a mental note to ask Draco about it all. He had to warn his boyfriend to be vigilant as it was; perhaps the blond would be able to get information from his housemates. They still trusted him, they'd surely tell him.
"Okay, well, enough about Skeeter," Harry said eventually. "Who wants to help me with some Arithmancy?" With the holidays over, his self-study was back on track as well, with Snape slipping assignments in with his returned Potions homework at the behest of Remus and Sirius. On any given day there was an inter-house study group meeting in the library now, but no one outside his trusted circle could know that Harry was studying the extra two subjects. That left helping him to this lot, or occasionally Fred. There were a few groans around the table, before Anthony Goldstein pulled out the empty chair between him and Padma. "Come on, Potter," he said with a grin. "Let's get this over with."
Harry grinned back, shifting around the table to take the chair and reaching into his bag. Hermione had it all wrong, seeing the other students as obstacles to her success.
Hogwarts was so much better with more friends.
.-.-.
Of all of Harry's secrets, the one where he was still in contact with his escaped convict godfather was probably the most inflammatory for him and the people he cared about, so Harry made sure he only ever spoke to Sirius at night, in bed, with the curtains warded with about everything he could think of.
"It's starting to make my head spin, Sirius," Harry admitted late one night, looking into his godfather's sympathetic grey eyes. "I've got so much going on — the tournament, the study group, Draco, you, Dumbledore — I'm losing track of who knows what, and trying to keep it all from Skeeter…"
"You've got far more on your shoulders than anyone should at your age, pup," Sirius agreed. "I wish I could help you with it — I wish I wasn't just adding to it."
"You're not," Harry insisted quickly. "I don't know how I'd cope without you and the others."
"It doesn't change that we're just another pile of secrets for you to keep," Sirius said knowingly. "Look, Harry; just focus on what you can control for now. The tournament — you're working on getting the egg figured out. Ask Remus about it next time he's with Snape, he might have an idea. Everything else is beyond your hands. The study group seems to be mostly taking care of itself. Draco's a smart boy, and he'll understand if you need to ease off a little bit while you're so busy. As for Dumbledore, he's clearly willing to just sit back and see what happens with this whole tournament situation, so I don't think you have much to worry about there. He doesn't suspect anything, does he?"
"I don't think so." Harry honestly hadn't seen much of Dumbledore, lately. The man was probably busy dealing with all the behind-the-scenes stuff for the tournament. "He doesn't like that the students are mingling so much these days, but I don't think he can trace it back to me. If anything I think he thinks it's Susan's fault." She was honestly more in charge of the study group than he was, and with her Chief Warlock ambitions all the heirs seemed to gravitate to her anyway. "She seems very much like her aunt, from what you've told me," Sirius complimented. "I'm sure she can handle it. So there you have it — the only things you really need to worry about right now are the egg and your boyfriend. And from what I've heard, I don't think you even need to worry about your boyfriend. He's pretty keen on you, I'd say." Sirius wiggled his eyebrows, and Harry blushed.
"Snape's been gossiping again, hasn't he?" he groused. He still hadn't forgiven the Potions Master for telling Sirius and Remus about finding Harry at the Yule Ball. Sirius had teased him about it for days.
"Severus? Gossip? Never," Sirius mock-gasped, before laughing. "It's not like he needs to; I can see it all over your face when you talk about your boy. It's very sweet." Sirius laughed harder as Harry squirmed in embarrassment.
"You just wait til you start dating again," Harry muttered. "I'll get you back for all of this."
"You might be waiting a while," Sirius pointed out, the light in his eyes dying a little bit. "Hard to get a date when everyone thinks you're a murdering lunatic."
"It won't be forever. We'll find Pettigrew and get your name cleared," Harry vowed.
"I'm sure you will, pup," Sirius agreed, smiling slightly. "You're a determined little bugger like that." He shook his head in a slightly canine way, then brightened up. "Anyway, tell me about what the twins have been up to — you mentioned something about hexing the Ravenclaw common room guardian?"
Harry grinned, happy to regale Sirius with the tale of Fred and George hexing the Ravenclaw statue to spout gibberish instead of riddles, so they could only get into their common room by responding with utter nonsense. One day, he couldn't wait to introduce his godfather to the twins. Though the rest of them might not be safe once he did.
.-.-.
Severus strode through the corridor towards the headmaster's office, smirking to himself when the few students he passed hurried to get out of his way. They really were far too easy to scare.
He wasn't sure why he'd been summoned, but it couldn't be good. He gave the password to the gargoyle, stepping up on to the revolving staircase and tightening his Occlumency shields. He was prepared for anything, wondering which loose threads the headmaster might be tugging on now.
Dumbledore was sat behind his desk, smiling genially at Severus when he entered. "Ah, Severus. Thank you for coming so promptly," he greeted, gesturing towards the bowl of sweets on his desk. "Lemon drop?"
Severus declined, knowing the sour sweets were usually laced with some sort of mild truth-telling potion. "What did you need from me, Albus?" he asked, taking a seat opposite the desk.
"Just a chat," Dumbledore assured, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands together on the desk. "Igor Karkaroff is looking a little nervous lately. I was wondering if you might have any inkling as to why."
Karkaroff looked like a loud noise might give him a heart attack, these days. Severus didn't blame him; the man had a lot to be worried about, if the Dark Lord was on the rise again. "I already told you the Mark is getting darker," Severus replied, because there was never any chance of him hiding that. "Igor is merely worried about how little time he has left."
"And do you know the answer to that?"
"If you're asking if I've heard anything about the Dark Lord's return, the answer is no, Albus," Severus said flatly. The headmaster's brow furrowed.
"Severus, I understand this is a difficult time for everybody; you especially. However, the side of the light will need as much information as possible should the worst happen." His voice was apologetic, but Severus could read between the lines. 'Don't forget you're still my spy, even if Voldemort isn't around yet. You'll be back at it as soon as he pops his head up'. Typical.
"I am keeping an ear to the ground and my usual channels open," Severus drawled in assurance. "There is simply little information to share." That was true; no one from the old crowd seemed to know where the Dark Lord was, or how he was regaining strength. Severus was both glad and wary that there hadn't yet been a whisper of the name Peter Pettigrew. Severus could only imagine how much information the little rat had taken with him, after living in Potter's dorm for three years, and spending the whole twelve with a prominent light family. The Dark Lord would know far too much by now. "I'm glad to hear it," Dumbledore replied. "I feared with the tournament going on, especially with Mr Potter's recent circumstances, it would be too much of a cover for Voldemort to gather his followers."
"Surely you don't believe Mr Potter's… circumstances are anything but an attempt by the Dark Lord's followers to kill the boy? Just because I wasn't involved in the plot doesn't mean there wasn't one." If Dumbledore truly thought Potter's involvement in the tournament was just a prank gone wrong, or a fourteen year-old boy's quest for glory, he had finally cracked. Unless the old coot had done it himself, to give Potter another chance to prove himself.
"I think whoever tampered with the Goblet of Fire will reveal themselves in due course, and there is little we can do but support Harry until that time comes," Dumbledore said, sounding entirely uncaring that his precious Golden Boy was in such dangerous circumstances. Sometimes it baffled Severus how this man had ended up in charge of wizarding Britain's children, and no one seemed to notice he didn't give a damn about their welfare. How were people so blind?
"If I may be excused, I have a potion brewing," Severus lied easily, getting to his feet.
"Of course, of course. I trust you'll come to me if you get any further information." Dumbledore stood as well, offering Severus a look that was supposed to be fatherly. "Dark times are coming, my dear boy, and I believe we will need you now more than ever. I am sorry to have to ask you to make this sacrifice once more, but… it is for the greater good."
Severus bit back a snarl. How many lives had this man ruined in the name of the 'greater good'? Instead he merely nodded, face impassive. "Some things are necessary," he said, turning to leave the office. It wasn't until he was back in the privacy of his own quarters that he let his shoulders slump a little, a sigh escaping his lips. And so it began, again.
.-.-.
There was a Hogsmeade weekend in mid-January, and Harry found himself trudging down the slushy pathway beside Neville and Ginny, who had insisted he couldn't spend it locked inside, and that Rita Skeeter couldn't make a scandal of him going to Hogsmeade, especially when she wasn't even legally supposed to write about him. Harry was pretty sure Skeeter could and would, but he allowed himself to be bullied out of the castle all the same. He'd been reading up on merpeople for the last four days straight, and it was starting to give him a headache.
Instead, he focused his attention on his companions — Neville and Ginny had been hanging out a lot ever since the Yule Ball. Harry couldn't figure out if they were dating or not. He'd never seen them kiss; but then again, he'd never seen Remus and Snape kiss, yet those two were definitely in love. As they walked, Ginny's shoulder bumped Neville's arm every few steps, and the older Gryffindor didn't seem to mind. Harry's eyes narrowed on their hands as they almost linked between them. Yeah, there was definitely something going on there.
"Let's go to Honeydukes," Ginny suggested, nudging Neville until he changed direction. "I'm out of sugar quills."
Harry was always happy to buy sweets, and owed Remus some Honeydukes' Finest, so he trailed after the maybe-couple into the sweet shop.
As they strolled from shop to shop, mostly at Ginny's urging, Harry kept an eye out for Hagrid. The half-giant still hadn't worked up the courage to leave his hut, even after a week. The fuss from the article had mostly died down, but Hagrid wouldn't hear it, insisting to Harry that he wasn't ready yet. Harry wondered how much longer it would take for him to be ready.
Shopping finished, Harry suggested they head to the Three Broomsticks, as much as he was dreading the crowd. There was a chance Hagrid could be in there — and he wasn't quite done observing Ginny and Neville yet. Both of them were easy to blush, and there had been a lot of blushing going on all day. It made Harry smile, and he wondered if it had been like this for Sirius watching him and Draco over the summer. His godfather took a lot of joy in insisting they were both oblivious and besotted even then. Once inside the pub, Harry wished he'd brought his invisibility cloak. When he was inside Hogwarts, it was easy to forget he was a Triwizard Champion; most people had stopped caring by now. Outside, however, was an entirely different matter. Heads turned, whispers started up, and Harry grimaced.
"We can go somewhere else if you want?" Neville suggested quietly. "Back to Gryffindor or whatever."
"No, it's fine," Harry assured, squeezing through the crowd towards the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny's fingers curl around Neville's as they entered the fray. He smirked to himself. "What do you two want? I'm buying."
"Harry, my boy!" He resisted the urge to groan, turning to face Ludo Bagman, who was making his way over from a table full of unhappy-looking goblins. "Good to see you, good to see you! Had a good Christmas?" Bagman glanced back at Neville and Ginny. "You two don't mind if I borrow Harry here for a quick private chat, do you?"
"Actually, we do," Ginny retorted blithely. "He's about to buy us drinks. Come on, Harry." Without giving Bagman time to argue, Ginny hooked her free hand around Harry's elbow and tugged him away towards the other end of the bar. The man looked baffled by the turn of events, and Harry snickered.
"Nice one, Gin." Ginny smiled with dimpled cheeks.
"I don't trust that one. He still hasn't paid the twins their winnings from the World Cup — I caught them writing to him about it the other week."
As if summoned by their names, Fred and George entered the pub, and upon spotting Bagman, made a beeline for him. Bagman's blue eyes went wide, and he hurried back to the table full of goblins after a brief conversation with the twins that left them both looking disappointed. Harry thought about calling them over, but then glanced at Ginny and Neville, and stayed silent. They didn't deserve teasing, not while they were still figuring things out.
Instead, he leaned on the bar and flagged down Madam Rosmerta to order their drinks, elbowing Neville out of the way when the boy tried to split the bill. "No, shush, this round is mine," Harry insisted, handing over the coins before Neville could use his extra height to reach over him. Rosmerta giggled, shaking her head at their antics. "Thanks, Harry," Ginny chirped, sipping at her raspberry fizz.
Crowded at the bar due to lack of seats, Harry had to fight down a grin when Ginny started leaning against Neville, not looking like she even realised she was doing it. It was funny, watching two people start gravitating towards each other like that — after years of watching Ron and Hermione circle in the most uncomfortable orbit in the world, he'd forgotten what it was like for normal people to get together. He didn't say a word about it, keeping up the conversation about the new player the Harpies had just signed.
Where he was stood, Harry had a perfect view of the door, and thus he couldn't miss it when Rita Skeeter walked in, wearing bright yellow robes and trailing her photographer behind her. She didn't seem to notice Harry as she ordered drinks at a small table nearby.
"What's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow, anyway?" Skeeter was saying to the photographer, smirking. "'Showing them the sights', what tosh. He was always a bad liar. Think we should do a bit of digging? There's bound to be something that'll make a good headline — Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Sports, Ludo Bagman — We just need to find a story to fit it."
Harry scowled, stepping forward before he even knew what he was doing. "Trying to ruin someone else's life?" he said loudly, glaring at the blonde woman. Around them, the pub went quiet. Skeeter beamed.
"Harry! How lovely to see you — have you changed your mind about an interview? Come, come sit!"
"I'm not going anywhere near you," Harry insisted. "How dare you write that article about Hagrid! No one cares that he's half-giant!"
"Well, if no one cares, then it shouldn't be a problem," Skeeter retorted, smirk dripping with malice. "Why don't you give me a quote, Harry? About the Hagrid you know." She pulled her lime green quill from her crocodile-skin handbag. "The man behind the muscle. Would you call him a father substitute?"
"Are you so bad at your job that you can't get a headline without making up utter tripe?" Ginny cut in furiously, appearing at Harry's shoulder. Skeeter glared at her, lips pursing.
"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't get involved in matters that don't concern you," she dismissed. Ginny's hands clenched into fists at her side.
"Like you're one to talk!" she argued. "Hagrid's personal life is none of your business, but you stuck your ugly nose in where it wasn't wanted, and now look what you've done!"
Harry recognised the malicious glint in Skeeter's eye, and his heart sank. They were going to end up in more trouble than it was worth. "Come on, Ginny," he urged quietly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let's just go." He glanced over at Neville, who nodded and set his mostly-empty drink down, taking Ginny by the hand and urging her out of the pub. Harry didn't look back at Skeeter as they left.
"She's not gonna take that lying down," Neville said with furrowed brows, eyeing Ginny in concern. "She'll be after you next."
"Let her," Ginny replied, scowling. "I'll take whatever that lying cow can dish out."
Harry hoped that was true. If there was one thing Rita Skeeter was good at, it was hurting people.
.-.-.
From books about merpeople, Harry moved on to researching water-based spells, trying to find something that might allow him to be underwater for an hour. He found spells for walking on water, transporting large amounts of water, and plenty of spells to help find water, but nothing that told him how to survive in it past the usual limitation of his lung capacity. There had to be something. He was just looking in the wrong place.
Remembering Sirius' words about asking Remus, Harry donned his invisibility cloak one Friday evening and headed down to the dungeons. Remus was usually around on Friday nights, and he'd mentioned something about being there when Harry had spoken to him last.
He glanced around to check the coast was clear, then knocked on the frame of the portrait. It opened, and he snuck inside, waiting until the door was closed before removing his cloak. He looked around the unusually empty room, frowning. "I thought Remus was supposed to be here?"
"He was," Snape replied curtly. He'd taken off his teaching robes, leaving him in just a black shirt and trousers. He looked exhausted, if Harry was honest. "There was a change in plans."
"Is everything okay? Is he alright?" Harry asked, brain immediately throwing dozens of disaster scenarios his way.
"He is well. The mutt is merely having a difficult time; Remus didn't feel it prudent to leave him alone."
Harry winced; Sirius was doing a lot better since moving into Seren Du, but every now and then he had nightmares from Azkaban and got stuck inside his own head for a little while. It was happening less and less, especially after Snape helped him with his Occlumency shields over the summer, but… twelve years surrounded by dementors had left him with a lot of damage.
"Oh," he said, feeling awkward now he knew it was just him and the Potions Master. "I'll, just, uh— go, then. Sorry to disturb you."
"Not so fast, Potter," Snape drawled before Harry could put the cloak back on. The man looked skyward for a moment, like he might regret what he was about to say, but carried on nonetheless. "There was clearly a reason for your visit here. Sit; perhaps I may be of assistance. I am not Remus, but I'm also not an idiot."
Harry blinked, needing several seconds to comprehend the man's words. Snape was… inviting him to stay? "Oh," he said again. "I— okay then. If you're sure." Harry walked over to his usual spot on the sofa, and his eyebrows rose when a steaming teacup floated his way. "Thanks."
Snape sat in his armchair, raising one eyebrow. "Well? What dilemma do you need a way out of now?"
Harry bit his lip. Snape had been a lot better since the summer, in private at least. He could trust him. "Well, I know what the egg's clue means now. I just don't really know what to do about it." He drank his tea, unsurprised that it was exactly the way he preferred it. Snape was a spy, after all; he was supposed to be observant. "I have to be able to breathe underwater for an hour."
He explained the mermaid's song to Snape, whose lips pursed. "Of course they're sending you into the Black Lake in February," he muttered. "No wonder Poppy asked for those extra-strength Pepper-Up potions. Honestly!"
Harry hadn't even thought about the issues that might arise from the temperature of the water, and grimaced. Could he hold a Warming charm for an hour? Should he just wear one of his charmed robes, even though it would slow him down in the water?
"There is of course the Bubblehead charm," Snape continued, demonstrating with a wave of his wand. A large bubble appeared around his head, like he was wearing a fishbowl as a helmet. "Useful for being underwater, and also to avoid noxious fumes from potions. I often teach it to my NEWT students." His voice was somewhat distorted by the bubble, but Harry could still hear him. Another wave of his wand, and the spell ended. "However, keeping the spell up for a full hour — especially in the face of whatever trials there will no doubt be waiting for you — requires a lot of concentration, and is a risk for someone as unfamiliar with the spell as you are. I would recommend you learn it as a precaution, but not as your main method for the task."
"So what do I do, then?" Harry asked, watching Snape think.
"There is no similar limitation to the first task, where you could only use your wand?" the Slytherin checked. Harry shook his head.
"It doesn't say anything about it, so I assume we're fine to have other things. If not, I could always summon something again," he added ruefully. "Why? Are you thinking about some sort of scuba diving apparatus? Because I thought about that but I don't know how mechanised they are, and I didn't know if the magic in the lake might mess with it." The last thing he wanted was for an oxygen tank to fail on him in the middle of the Black Lake.
"No, that wouldn't work," Snape dismissed immediately. "But there is a plant — gillyweed. If you eat it, you will grow gills; and also sometimes fins. The effects vary from plant to plant, which makes it a somewhat risky approach, but if you carry enough for a second dose, that will cover you should the first dose lose its effects before you've finished."
"Brilliant!" Harry breathed, perking up. He just had to eat this plant and he'd be all set! "Where can I buy it?"
"It's rather rare," Snape told him, making Harry falter. Of course it was. Just his luck. "However, it is used in several potions, so I keep some in my private stores. I will provide you with some when the task is nearer." The Slytherin smirked. "If anyone asks where you got it, tell them you stole from me. There will be a detention for your efforts, after the task. Remus has been looking for a chance to test your Ancient Runes progress."
Most of Harry's Snape-related detentions turned into private lessons these days, so that didn't bother him too much. "You'll just give it to me? Really?"
"It would rather upset Remus if I just let you drown," Snape pointed out mildly.
Harry was hit with a burst of bravery — or perhaps stupidity. "You'd be sleeping on the sofa for at least a week," he teased. Snape stared at him, unimpressed.
"Don't make me regret my offer, Potter," he muttered. Harry just laughed.
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," he assured, before sobering. "Seriously, thanks. I was starting to run out of options."
"I'm sure Mr Longbottom would have enlightened you, had you shared your dilemma with him," Snape said, and Harry wondered if that was a gentle reminder to trust his friends more. He was happy to talk about the egg with the other champions — at least, he had been before Viktor had solved the clue — but he'd been keeping it quiet around the rest of his friends, not wanting to worry them by explaining what he was about to undertake.
"But then I still would have had to figure out where to get this gillyweed stuff," Harry pointed out. "So really I just skipped the middle man."
Once again, Snape looked unimpressed, but he didn't say anything. With his problem solved, Harry wondered if he should leave. He'd gotten quite used to spending Friday evenings in the Potions Master's quarters with Remus, doing his homework and catching his pseudo-godfather up on everything he hadn't managed to tell him through the mirror. The thought of going back to Gryffindor Tower so early made something in his chest twinge sadly.
"I won't help you with your homework," Snape declared flatly. "But if you wish to avoid the antics of the many Weasleys you surround yourself with, you may stay."
Harry checked his Occlumency shields for a minute, worried he had let Snape slip in. But no, they were as solid as ever. He was just pathetic and transparent, evidently. What had his life come to that he'd rather do homework in his most hated professor's private rooms rather than up in the common room with his friends?
"Would you… if you're not too busy, would you teach me the Bubblehead charm? Please?" he requested tentatively. Snape's dark eyes surveyed him for a moment, and then he sighed.
"Very well," he assented. "But if your essay on Monday isn't of O level quality, you'll be in detention until Easter."
Harry laughed, wondering when threats of detention had become endearing rather than terrifying. "Yes, sir," he agreed, grinning.
The Bubblehead charm wasn't particularly difficult, but Snape was right that it took concentration to maintain. Harry couldn't get it to stick for more than five minutes by the time Snape told him to give it a rest and get on with his homework, claiming he had essays to mark. The Potions Master didn't kick him out even then, so Harry settled in to do his homework at the man's coffee table, the pair of them sitting in surprisingly companionable silence as they each got their work done. Every now and then, Harry asked Snape a question, like he might Remus or Sirius. To his utter astonishment, Snape would actually answer, explaining concisely until Harry could make sense of the work he was doing. He was a great teacher when he wasn't being an evil git, in more subjects than just Potions. It was almost like being back at Seren Du, but… easier. Over the summer they'd still had a lot of prejudice and awkward history to work past. Now, Harry was actually enjoying being in the man's company. It wasn't quite as relaxing as being with Remus or Sirius, but it was… nice.
He wondered if Snape was enjoying it as much as Harry was; what he might go and tell Remus about it when he saw the man next. Harry could imagine it already; Remus' eyes lighting up at the news, that happy little proud smile that he got whenever he saw Snape loosening up around people who weren't him. Whenever his newly reunited family started truly acting like one.
Harry didn't mind so much, having Snape in the family. He was Draco's godfather, after all. But all that aside, he was Remus', and that made him Harry's to some degree, too. Whether Snape liked it or not.