Severus woke up early on Halloween morning, his stomach churning with anticipation. Halloween had been a terrible date ever since that fateful one in 1981, but the last three had been especially intolerable.
He sipped his coffee in his sitting room, before the sun even rose, and considered the last three Halloweens.
1991, Potter was attacked by a troll, subsequently killed the troll, and Severus had to defend him to Albus and Minerva as a scrappy hero and not a budding Dark Lord.
1992, Potter was caught in front of a message declaring the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and a petrified cat. Severus then spent the evening swearing that Potter was nothing like a young Tom Riddle and that Albus' fears were baseless.
And Severus' personal favorite, 1993. Sirius Black broke in to Hogwarts, terrorized Potter with a knife only to be disarmed. Severus was summoned to the Hospital Wing and Potter still carries the damn dagger on him to this day.
And now? Severus glanced down at his exposed forearm and grimaced at the sight. This Halloween there would be a foreign former Death Eater, a mad ex-auror, two high ranking ministry officials, one of whom arrested Severus on a murder charge only months ago, a foreign Headmistress, and two dozen foreign students in the castle all preparing to watch and participate in a newly revised tournament with a staggering death toll. A tournament that Potter has been begging for information on how to join since Severus told him of it. None of which accounted for the odd circumstances that led Albus to appoint Alastor Moody: the darkening mark on Severus' forearm, the disappearance of the Ministry witch in Albania, and the vision Potter allowed in his mind over the summer.
No, Severus would be a naive fool to believe that Potter's accursed luck for having terrible incidents happen on Halloween would not hold true again today.
And so, he planned. Hence, why he was up before the sun. He finished his coffee and determinedly strode to the Slytherin dorm entrance. He conjured a chair, disillusioned himself, placed the appropriate silencing charms on his person, and made himself at home in the corridor until Potter awoke.
Some may say that he was taking his resolution to keep Potter away from life threats too far (well, Minerva said that when Severus had fretted over the day during their newly resumed weekly tea nights. Which were nothing more than an opportunity to drink scotch and complain about their students, but it was a ritual Severus had surprisingly missed while Minerva had been so openly against his ward in recent years) but they (Minerva) had never been a spy, nor a guardian to the most unlucky child to enter the castle. Potter was a danger unto himself on an average day. The child had more difficulty making it through a normal day than any other human being Severus had ever encountered. The 31st of October just seemed to have it out for him on top of his usual streak of bad luck and poor decision making.
Severus pulled his book out of his pocket as he sat outside the Slytherin entrance. He had expected to be there at least an hour and a half before Potter left for breakfast, and was therefor surprised when the portrait opened not twenty minutes later revealing Potter...
... and God damned Frederick Weasley.
Both sporting their flying gear and bedraggled hair.
Severus was going to end up cursing Frederick Weasley by the end of the year, if not the day, he was sure of it.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Potter was saying to Frederick. "I dunno if Krum knows much about your position or not."
"If you don't mind I'd like to go," Frederick smiled in the cheerful way that Severus himself could never accomplish. "Even if I don't fly with you guys, you still look great on a broom so I'm not wasting my time."
Frederick winked at Potter, who laughed and shoved his arm.
"C'mon then," Potter said, casually lacing their hands together. "I don't wanna keep him waiting."
Severus silently rose from his seat and trailed behind the two boys. He listened to their easy banter and Frederick's shameless flirting as they made their way through the castle and out to the Quidditch pitch. He rolled his eyes when he saw that Viktor Krum, Karkaroff's prized student he rambled on about during dinner last night, was waiting on the pitch for the boys.
Well, for Potter anyway.
"Harry," Krum said. "I did not expect your friend, vat is your name?"
"Fred," Frederick said, offering his hand to the other boy. "I'm Harry's boyfriend."
If Severus were not determined to go unnoticed he would have snorted at Frederick's jealousy. Potter, the oblivious idiot that he was, just summoned his and Weasley's broomsticks, not noticing the way Frederick and Krum were now sizing each other up.
"You are ready?" Krum turned to Potter with an eager look that matched Potter's current enthusiasm spot on. Severus had felt badly for his ward on the first night when he realized that there would be no quidditch this year. He knew Potter had been crushed, and took it rather personal, as it was his first year as captain of his team. He was pleased to see that Potter would instead have an opportunity to train with a professional player.
And if it irritated Frederick, then all the better in Severus' opinion.
Severus watched as the three young men flew around in the sky for hours. He was begrudgingly impressed when Frederick quickly shed his jealousy and enthusiastically began flying and interacting with Krum. And he was equal parts pleased and disgruntled when Potter began truly showing off and was heavily complimented by Krum.
"Vat you must do Harry is have memories sent to teams," Krum said once they landed, his eyes alight with a now recognizable quidditch induced manic gleam. "I vould be pleased to have my captain come vatch you at your next match."
"But if they liked him, Harry would only be the reserve seeker," Frederick pointed out. "And we both know he's too good to be a reserve."
Krum grunted in bitter agreement and Severus felt a spark of pride in Potter. How many students could say they had a chance to fly professionally while they were still in school?
He would be sure to mention this to Minerva during their next tea time. The old witch would die from envy for not landing Potter in her house.
Severus followed the boys to the now full Hall and slipped through the teachers entrance and took his place at the Head Table.
"Busy morning?" Minerva murmured with a knowing look in her eyes.
"It is scarcely seven thirty and I have already seen him risk his life on a broomstick," Severus said baldly. "I believe a little paranoia is warranted."
"Careful," Minerva hummed. "Next thing you know you'll be screeching about constant vigilance." She shot a distasteful look towards Moody, the driving force between mending their previously affable relationship.
"Be sure to have me killed quickly and painfully if that becomes the case," Severus quipped.
"So I should involve the lovely Miss Bones?"
Severus scoffed over his breakfast at the mere thought. Minerva's dry wit and quick banter had been sorely missed in recent years. Perhaps he would send Moody a thank you card for irritating the witch in to venting her frustrations to Severus over his lax hold of Hogwarts rules on punishments and proper teaching methods. After an hour of ranting, Minerva had summoned a bottle of scotch and their weekly tea nights resumed easily.
"Your snake is plotting something," Minerva said, her sharp eyes on Potter. "Anything involving both Weasley twins, Lovegood, Bones, and Nott is sure to be catastrophic."
Severus looked over at the Slytherin table and saw that those students did indeed all have their heads bent together conspiratorially, which promised nothing but chaos. And if Miss Granger's indignant expression was any judge, it would be an exceptional level of chaos.
"Potter is attempting to enter the tournament," Severus sighed as he guessed at the groups plot. "If we had not helped Albus place the wards around the goblet ourselves, I would be worried about his success."
"I believe Mister George Weasley is planning on using an aging potion to cross the line," Minerva said with a mischievous glint to her eyes. "Perhaps I'll join you in babysitting your child to see what happens."
Severus hid his smile behind his glass of water as he imagined the boys attempting such a menial maneuver to cross the line.
Then of course he nearly choked as he debated on if Potter had considered his medication when plotting his entry to the tournament.
He probably hadn't. Or he believed the reward was worth the risk.
Which, it absolutely was not.
"Excuse me," he said hastily, making his way quickly towards the scheming group.
"Harry, I need to speak with you," he said curtly as soon as he approached his ward.
"'Kay," Potter blinked up at him and remained firmly in his seat. "What's up?"
"As you are plotting your pointless schemes to enter the tournament I would simply like to remind you of your life threatening allergy before you consume any potions," Severus said sternly. "Your funeral will lack the pomp you desire when I inform your friend Rita that you died due to your own foolish actions and a sub-standardly brewed aging potion."
The Weasley Twin who was not seated beside Potter, George Weasley, looked insulted, but it was Lovegood who spoke up.
"It's not substandard Professor, I brewed it myself," she said in her typically absent-minded tone that hid the sharp mind Severus knew she possessed. "I think it's perfect but if you're worried about the boys' health, you're welcome to test it."
"You brewed an OWL level potion?" he asked, ignoring the implication that he would worry about any students heath aside from Potters. He was not skeptical of her success, Lovegood was a potions prodigy, but he was unsure of her motives to undertake such a time consuming task.
"George helped," she smiled up at Severus in the fearless way that only Potter's friends did. "He's going to prank the next five students who are rude to me since it took me five hours to brew."
Severus snorted. "5 points to Ravenclaw for such a Slytherin deal," he told her before turning his attention back to Potter. "Harry- you will not partake in any ill advised potions today?"
"No sir," Potter said. His voice was polite, which did not bode well for his plans. "I've got a few different ideas."
"Of course you do," Severus muttered. "I suppose it is a waste of my breathe to inform you that the line is foolproof, which means you simple minded dunderheads will be unable to cross it?"
"It is," Granger huffed.
Severus would share a sympathetic look with the witch if it were not for a traumatizing summer spent watching her emerge from the boys' bedroom in Theodore's night clothes.
"Very well, I will simply be on hand to witness your failure," Severus said curtly, turning on his heel and making his way back to Minerva.
"Disillusioned still or are you done pretending today?" Potter yelled at his back, his ever expanding pack of misfits laughing boisterously at his words.
Severus hated Halloween. Some days he believed he may hate Potter.
He didn't. He was as fond of Potter as a person could be, but the brat was infuriating.
Mostly he cursed his own bad luck for ever encouraging Potter to feel at ease around him.
He fondly remembered when his students were too frightened to do more that whisper in his presence, and now Potter has nearly a dozen of them chatting him up, smiling at him, and bordering the line between cheek and disrespect.
"I hope he fails many times today," he muttered to Minerva, receiving a sympathetic pat on his shoulder from the witch.
And fail many times Potter did.
Severus leaned against the stone wall of the Entrance Hall and watched with bemusement as Potter and George Weasley attempted several different methods of making it past the age line.
"Broom," Potter demanded, his hand out and his eyes hard as he began his fourth attempt at crossing the line. George Weasley had conceded with good grace and stood beside his brother, who interestingly had not attempted to join the tournament even once.
"I can see how he wound up in your house," Minerva chuckled, eying the long black beard that remained as proof of Potter's many previous attempts. "Determination like that? Tsk, Gryffindor didn't have a chance," she clucked.
"I think the brash foolishness he is currently presenting makes him an excellent candidate for Gryffindor," Severus disagreed.
They fell silent as Potter's beloved Firebolt smacked in his hand and he mounted it in front of the eagerly waiting crowd. Severus and Minerva had debated on disallowing this ridiculous farce to take place, but they believed if they other students witnessed Potter's fruitless efforts, they would be dissuaded from attempting it themselves.
Potter backed away from the Goblet, kicked off from the ground, leaned forward, flew over the line and-
"GOD DAMNIT," Potter swore loudly.
"10 points from Slytherin," Severus called casually from his spot amidst the students who were crowing with laughter and exchanging bets as Potter was once again expelled from the Goblet's vicinity and his beard lengthened. Severus would typically never publicly dock his house points, but he could hardly stand by as his student, and his publicly acknowledged ward, blatantly swore in front of half of the castle.
"Lue, bring out Plan E," Bones cried stubbornly.
Lovegood danced forward, Potter's owl perched on her shoulder.
"Alright Sevvie, all you have to do is take this paper-" Potter stuck a parchment in his owls beak and stroked the fuzzy black bird tenderly, "-and drop it in that goblet. Can you do that buddy?"
"What attempt is this now?" Pomona asked, walking up to join Severus and Minerva.
"His fifth," Minerva said, her eyes dancing with laughter and her mouth curved up in a rare, but genuine, smile. "I may have to send this memory to Sirius, I believe young Harry is more of a force than James and Sirius were combined in their school days."
Pomona laughed and they all fell silent as Potter's owl obediently took off from his shoulder and flew across the line aaaand-
"SON OF A BITCH!"
Despite not even crossing the line this time, Potter and his owl both were zapped ten feet further away from the Goblet and Potter's beard lengthened once again. It was now trailing behind him like a ridiculous black veil.
"10 points from Slytherin," Severus said, ignoring Potter's hiss of anger. It was a mark of how entertaining Potter's attempts were that none of the watching Slytherin's even complained about their now fifty point deficit.
Or perhaps, more accurately, none of the Slytherin's wanted to risk Potter's wrath by complaining about their points.
Potter had single handedly won them the House Cup the last three years regardless.
"Seems unfair to dock Harry for picking up on your language," Pomona said slyly.
"Life is unfair," Severus responded drily.
By Potter's seventh attempt, the entire school, including Albus, were watching with mirth in their eyes and were openly betting on his success.
By his tenth Severus wondered exactly how long his beard could grow.
And finally, his thirteenth attempt, Bones announced to the disappointed crowd that it was the last one.
"Plan M," she yelled. "Last try now."
"Suppose it's my go then?" Johnathan Abbott, a seventh year Hufflepuff who attended the World Cup with Potter, stepped forward.
"Here," Potter slapped a piece of parchment in Abbott's hand. "If this works I'm going to blow up this entire Hall," he said flatly. Many students chuckled at that, yet only the Slytherin's edged towards the doorways.
"Oh this is my favorite one," Albus said happily beside Minerva. "I thought the students would try this first."
"Harry wouldn't want someone else to take credit for his entrance," Filius squeaked.
Severus inclined his head in agreement. Potter would be furious if this worked, his credit would have to be shared with the Abbott boy.
Severus and the entire Hall held their breath as Abbott stepped over the line and walked right up to the Goblet.
"Here goes," he said cheerfully before dropping the parchment in the Goblet.
"YESSSS!!" Potter actually jumped up and threw a victorious fist in the air as his name was dropped in the Goblet. "FINAL-"
And then Abbott and Potter were both blown away from the Goblet and sprouted long handlebar mustaches before they even hit the ground. The Goblet spit out Potter's parchment with a long red flame and the students and staff watched as it burnt to ash in front of them.
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!"
"10 points from Slytherin."
"Thirty points to Slytherin for an entertaining morning and a demonstration of outstanding determination," Albus called, his beard twitching with repressed laughter and his eyes sparkling like mad.
Severus shrugged and inspected his nails in an effort to appear aloof of the proceedings.
Albus' reward was, for once, not misguided. Potter certainly was entertaining as he wasted his morning trying to enter the tournament. Severus was pleased to see that every attempt was unsuccessful though. Despite being confident in the wards the Professor's had built last night, he would not have put it past Potter to find a way around them.
Though Severus sighed internally at the blatant favoritism he would need to show in the upcoming weeks to revive Slytherin from their current loss of 100 points.
God damned Harry Potter.
Severus was satisfied that Potter had fulfilled his daily quota for idiotic ideas after his defeat in the Entrance Hall and gave up on trailing him for the rest of the afternoon.
The fact that Potter smirked at where Severus was standing disillusioned in an empty corridor before he began kissing Frederick... enthusiastically... was inconsequential.
"I think it's an odd romance, but sweet," Pomona said while Severus was cursing both boys out in the staff room. "Fred's quite different than Harry, isn't he?"
Minerva snorted over her cup of tea.
"Harry and Fred are not sweet, it's an entirely new generation of chaos. I hoped they would never meet to be honest."
"How did they end up meeting?" Pomona asked. "Through Ronald?"
"If I eavesdropped correctly, I think Fred was quite taken with Harry after their duel in Fred's fourth year," Filius squeaked.
The Hogwarts staff were truly irredeemable gossipers.
Severus threw himself in the conversation once the topic shifted away from his ward and toward the students who were actually able to enter the tournament.
Severus drug himself to the feast that night with poor grace. He despised this tournament, and he despised the extra intruders the castle was filled with.
He was in the clear minority as the Great Hall was filled with eager chatter from excited students and staff. He ignored the mindless chatter and silently debated with himself as he eyed his glass of wine.
It was unlikely that Potter would go the entirety of the evening without at least one chaotic event happening to him, or being caused by him. And in that event, Severus would need to remain alert.
However... It was unlikely that Potter would go the entirety of the evening without at least one chaotic event happening to him, or being caused by him. And in that event, Severus would prefer to already have at least a mild amount of alcohol in his system to deal with it.
Severus glared at the wine glass before deciding that if he could keep Potter out of Azkaban after a glass of firewhisky, he could certainly defend him from whatever chaos he caused tonight with a glass of wine.
Severus amused himself during the feast by ignoring the looks of thinly veiled rage aimed at him by Crouch Senior, and instead fantasized about carrying out plans of revenge he had formulated with Barty back in their Hogwarts days.
Some nights, when Severus considered all Potter had done so far, he admired the child for dispatching of his friends abusive parent.
Other times, Severus recalled how Barty, Regulus, and himself were easily recruited by the Dark Lord due to their shared histories of abusive parents and shuddered to realize that Potter recruited Theodore with similar tactics.
But for now, Severus indulged himself with imagining the many different ways that Barty had discussed getting revenge on his father.
He was remembering a particularly complicated plot, one that only Barty's Ravenclaw mind could plan, involving a chimera, a fever reducing potion, and the Ebublio Jinx, when the desserts were cleared and Albus called the room to attention.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Albus with a broad smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — Albus waved towards the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
Severus took a deep drink of his wine as Albus took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, blue-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting... Severus rolled his eyes at the sense of melodrama filling the room.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.
Albus caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
Severus watched as Potter's friend, Viktor Krum, rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Albus; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Igor, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
Severus scoffed at Igor's blatant favoritism. The man had one famous student and believed he was the only one that mattered.
The fact that Severus considered his own overtly famous student to be his favorite was inconsequential. Potter was his ward. Igor was an attention seeking idiot who clings to the coattails of others to raise his own station.
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Albus, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"Ow ow," Fred Weasley whistled loudly from the his seat across from Potter at the Slytherin table. Severus hoped Potter or Bones smacked him for catcalling at a guest student in their castle. Particularly when he was seated with Potter, who was as close to Weasley as he was with Bones and Lovegood.
A young woman, who must be at least a quarter veela, got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
Olympe clapped politely and sent a disapproving look towards where the remainder of her students were creating a quiet spectacle. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with the students' excitement you could almost taste it.
The Hogwarts champion next...
Severus prayed with all his might to any God available that it would not be one of his Slytherins. He could not handle it if he had to worry about one of them competing in this death trap of a tournament this year on top of the stress of the darkening mark on his left arm.
Keeping one of his students alive was challenge enough, he hardly needed to worry about two of them this year.
"The Hogwarts champion," Albus called, "is Cedric Diggory!"
Every single Hufflepuff jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Mister Diggory, one of Pomona's sixth year students, made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. The applause for Diggory went on so long that it was some time before Albus could make himself heard again.
"Excellent!" Albus called happily as at last the noise died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"
Albus suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
Severus felt his chest tighten with a sudden pang of anxiety as the fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
This was not supposed to happen. And when things that were not supposed to happen did happen, particularly on Halloween, it usually involved-
"Harry Potter."
Severus' eyes flew to the green eyed gaze of his ward just in time to see the child's (for it did not matter that Potter was now 14, he was a child in Severus' mind) eyes shift from a startled look of surprise to one of absolute delight.
Severus did not need to be beside him to interpret his words as Potter stated his belief that this horrifying turn of events was "brill".
Which, it absolutely, undoubtedly, was not.
There was nothing 'brill' about it at all.