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Learning to Trust Year 4
"I say we let things unfold," the words fell from the thin lips of Professor Severus Snape but even as he said them, could hardly believe they came from him.
In the glittering confines of the Hogwarts trophy room, the silence that followed his pronouncement seemed to hang suspended from the gilded dust that floated on the still air.
His gaze alighted on the boy who stood before him. Their eyes met, emerald finding jet and the Master of Potions read the silent disavowal on the white face of Harry Potter.
I didn't put my name in the goblet!
Snape barely inclined his head, a gesture so slight none but the boy saw.
But he understood his guardian's meaning.
I know.
A heated and confused exchange had just taken place, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as surprised as anyone else that the name Harry Potter had flown from an enchanted cup.
Dumbledore had managed to restore calm as his colleague, Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, Harry's school house had insisted that the boy could not proceed in the competition the cup initiated.
The flurry of accusations and counter claims from the other school's representatives had uncovered no answers to the mind numbing mystery that was unfolding.
Harry's name coming from the goblet of fire, impossible but yet irrefutable. The boy was emphatic in his denial of entering it. Severus knew he spoke the truth but even if there was a glimmer of doubt in his mind the enchantments on the cup would have made such a feat simply unachievable.
There was something going on, Severus knew not what and that made his skin crawl. He was a man of iron cast courage but unknown, uncalculated threats always made his instincts sharper. A threat to his young ward always made his blood run cold.
"Headmaster, we can't let Potter go forward, it is far too dangerous!" a near frantic Professor McGonagall made one last appeal.
Dumbledore silently considered her words, looked at his dazed pupil and nodded once.
"I agree with Severus."
His words, softly spoken carried the weight of his authority as head of the school. The debate was at an end.
"With me, Potter."
A swish of robes and the Head of Slytherin was already halfway out of the room but not before he shot a poisonous look at Igor Karkarov, the glowering Headmaster of Durmstrang, the second competitor school.
Harry saw the look but did not understand it. At that moment, he did not care to think about it, he had far too much else to worry about.
He had just been announced as the second of Hogwarts' champions for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The three champions, one from each of the participating schools had already been chosen.
Somehow, he could not think how, his name came out also. His head was reeling. He had been looking forward to the excitement of the championship, now he felt frozen with fear. What was he supposed to do? He was the youngest of the champions, his youth and inexperience should have meant his selection could not happen.
He paced along the long corridor behind his guardian, trying to marshall his thoughts. They swept down the stone steps to the Professor's quarters and as he closed the door behind them, Harry looked up at Snape.
"I can't do this! I'm not ready, I don't even know what to do!" he felt that he was going to explode.
Severus turned and regarded his ward, his usually pale complexion drained of all colour, so that he looked almost haggard.
He crossed the distance between then in two steps. He reached out and gripped the boy's narrow shoulders, lowering his head to find the green eyes and lock them to his own.
"You can do this. I believe that and so must you," he spoke fiercely, his eyes never leaving Harry's.
"You are the bravest boy I've ever met and certainly resourceful. These are impressive talents and they cannot be taught. You have what the other three could only hope for, natural ability. Use it, Harry, use it well."
Harry blinked, his guardian's words were not what he expected to hear.
They acted as though Severus had dosed him with a emboldening potion. The fear that was clawing at his throat abated.
The older man drew the boy against him, cupping his head with his hand. Harry leaned into the hug, breathing in the comfortingly familiar scent of dried herbs and old parchment that clung to Severus' robes.
"I don't want to let you down," he whispered.
Severus' voice sounded like a deep rumble within his chest when he spoke.
"You won't, Harry. Put that from your mind. Focus on what you have to do and stay safe. I don't know how this happened but you must carry on and buy me the time I need to find out."
The choosing of the champions was but the start of a fractious week for both guardian and ward.
"The boy, 'ee lives with a 'Ogwarts teacher, 'ow does that not give 'im an advantage?" Madame Maxime towered over the usually commanding figure of Albus Dumbledore.
As Headmistress of Beauxbatons, the third Tri-Wizard entrant school, she had been enjoying the hospitality at Hogwarts until she had learned that the unexpected champion was the ward of the legendary Severus Snape.
The man himself stood tall and still at the door of the Headmaster's office, his face impassive.
He allowed his eyes to make the considerable journey upwards to Madame Maxime's outraged face.
Another man might have been discomfited to find himself at such a height disadvantage. Not Snape, he held himself as though it were he who had the physical control of the room.
"I assure you Madam that I have no intention of helping the boy cheat his way to victory," he said in a droling tone, as though bored with the conversation.
"Professor Dumblydore this ees most irregular!" the giantess looked back at the Headmaster.
"It is, my dear Madame Maxine. But you can take Severus at his word, Harry will not be given any guidance over and above that available to Miss Delacour, Mr Krum or Mr. Diggory," Albus was polite but firm.
Frustrated, the woman threw large hands upwards. "I don't know but that Professor Karkarov ees correct. He ees adamant that this ees a coverup!" she sighed.
A light glinted deep in the black eyes at the mention of Karkarov's name and Snape's lips curled.
"Well placed to know, I would say," he snarled and Albus turned his blue eyes on the Potions Master.
"Severus."
The tone was still quiet, still firm and but the warning clear. Snape heeded it and went back to a disinterested study of the room before him.
"If this is all, I have classes to teach."
He did not wait to hear the reply, he had opened the door and was halfway down the winding staircase before it shut behind him.
The days following his selection were not going any better for Harry. Half of the other students had started wearing badges supporting Cedric Diggory 'the real champion'.
To make matters far worse, Ron had stopped speaking to him.
"If my best friend won't believe me, then what chance do I have? What can I do to prove I did not sneak my name into the goblet?" he railed one evening, having joined his guardian for a private dinner in his quarters.
"Mr. Weasley is the least of your problems, now, Harry. The first task is approaching. You need to be ready. You cannot let yourself be distracted by petty squabbles," Severus intoned.
"Easy for you to say!" Harry grumbled. But the Professor was right, fear was fast mounting to panic as the task approached and Harry was still clueless about what he was supposed to do.
And when Hagrid invited him for walk late one evening, hidden under his invisibility cloak, what he saw did little to cheer him.
He could not defeat a dragon! Harry felt despair almost drown him. He was done for, a goner.
The morning of the task, he sat on the side of his bed in Severus' quarters, awake before dawn, a cold feeling of impending doom gathering like a rising storm around his heart.
By breakfast, he felt physically ill, his stomach cramped and his skin was clammy.
Severus found him bent over and breathing in shallow, ragged breaths, his hands gripping the side of the bed as though holding on for dear life.
Harry felt the mattress sink beneath him as the Professor lowered himself to sit beside him. Severus reached out and laid a hand between the boy's narrow shoulders.
"If I could take your placeā¦." he didn't finish the sentence. There wasn't any point. He could not and for the older wizard, this had to be one of the worst sensations he had ever felt.
Seeing the boy so afraid, able to do nothing, having to let him walk out, knowing he danger he was in and having to stand aside, it made Severus burn.
Harry flung himself against his chest, his arms winding around Snape's waist, trembles wracking him.
Severus held him tightly, half believing that if he never let go, the child would be safe, he could hold him from it forever.
"I can't do it, Severus, I can't. I am afraid!" the sobs shook the boy and still Severus kept him pressed to him, waiting out the tempest.
At last, he felt the force begin to recede.
"Reach inside yourself. Everything you need is there. Find it. Feel it," he spoke with quiet certainty, the boy still in his arms.
Harry knew Severus had cast no magic but his words acted like a strange charm, stirring the courage inside him.
"That's it, Harry. Go out there and never, never give up."
The man cupped the boy's face in his hands, black eyes burning into the green gaze that looked to him, hope rising.
"Come back to me, that is all I ask of you," he said in a bare whisper.
Harry nodded, nerves still fizzing but he felt in charge of them now.
He rose to his feet, pulled on his robes, looked back at his guardian.
"You'll be watching, won't you, Severus?"
The Professor nodded, gave a small smile.
"As if I would miss seeing the Chosen One in action!" his voice teased, his eyes were deadly serious.
At the door, Harry paused and looked back once more.
"You won't tell anyone I was afraid?"
Severus inclined his head, regarding the boy carefully.
"Secret is safe with me, Harry. Speciality of the house, in fact."
Harry nodded and walked towards whatever awaited him, feeling strengthened.
There was powerful sorcery in having someone believe in you, he thought.
Mind you, the numbers of those who seemed to believe in him swelled considerably after his success in the first task. The Gryffindor common room was a riot of colour and noise and joy that evening and best of all, Ron was talking to him again and Harry felt the world come remarkably back to rights.
The celebrations looked likely to last all night but Harry remembered that there was somewhere else he needed to be.
He slipped out of the portrait hole and made his way downwards to the place he had started to think of as home.
The Professor was sitting in his customary place before the fire, a newspaper lying on his lap.
He looked up when he heard the door open. The boy looked relieved, happy.
"I came back," he said simply.
The coal black eyes glinted.
"So I see,"
"Ron is speaking to me now,"
"The golden trio is back, Merlin help us all!" Severus rose an eyebrow, amused at the volatile swings of adolescent relationships.
"You did well, Harry."
The uncomplicated praise somehow meant more to Harry than all of the accolades from his fellow students.
He grinned.
"Don't you have a party to go to?" the Potions Master found the boy's happiness a wondrous thing to watch.
"Yeah. But I wanted to say thank you. For being there for me,"
"There is no need of it. But you are welcome, Harry. I hope that Mr. Diggory is equally appreciative of your being there for him,"
Harry couldn't disguise the surprise that registered on his face.
"How did you know?" he asked, though he supposed he should have guessed. His guardian's eyes saw a lot.
Severus had learned more about this boy in the past four years than he wanted him to know.
So he gave a hint of a smile.
"Gryffindors. More guts than common sense, a known fact."
"I do have a party to get back to. Severus. Thank you," there were many more things Harry wished to say but the words got lost.
How do you tell someone that they had probably saved your life?
His guardian waved a hand at the door.
"Go and enjoy yourself. Be off with you before your classmates start to think I have finished what that Hungarian Horntail started, young man!"