The Years of Riddle

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Hogwarts, January 1960

"Did you practice magic outside of class as well?"

McGonagall chuckled. "Well, I wasn't in class anymore, but I focused on other areas of magic, yes. Learning is a great tool when in emotional pain." She warmed her tea with a tap of her wand, took a small sip, and studied him closely. "As your head of house, Silas, you may come to me with any problems or concerns, or simply if you need to...chat."

"That's very nice Professor, but..."

"Or, instead of chatting, I could teach you a few extra odds and ends." She suggested. "Then you can learn the lessons with everyone else."

This made Silas look up, and his eyes were bright for the first time since he had gone to visit Gwyn in the hospital. "Really Professor?"

"Really." She waved him away then. "Hurry now, or you'll miss your next lesson. Oh, and Silas –"

He turned, wondering what more she had to say. She had already given him so much, more than he could have asked for. "Yes Professor?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore would like to see you this evening, after tea."

Silas' stomach dropped. "He wants to see me?"

"Yes. Now go on," she gave him a smile that she hoped was reassuring. She had only been head of house for five months, this was new territory.

Silas ran off to his next lesson, wondering what on earth the Headmaster would want with him.

~*~

The four first years walked up the grand staircase, Arthur and Inesa arguing about whether you stirred a forgetfulness potion clockwise or anti-clockwise. Inesa was about to pull out her potions textbook when Silas said goodbye.

"Where are you going?" asked Molly, who had her red hair in a single thick plait that almost hit Arthur as she whipped around to stare curiously at Silas.

"Uh, to see Professor Dumbledore." He mumbled, not liking the sudden attention.

"What for?" demanded Molly, in a curious fashion.

"I don't even know," shrugging, he walked backwards towards the tower. "McGonagall just told me to go after tea."

Inesa gave him a little wave while Arthur fiddled with his tie, curious. "Well let us know what it was about," he said as Molly gave his shoulder a smack.

"It's Silas' business," Inesa said quietly.

As he walked away, he heard Inesa cry, "I was right! It is clockwise!" and Arthur letting out a defeated groan. Grinning, he headed for the gargoyle, repeating the password his father has uttered only two months before. It jumped aside, and he once more climbed the spiral steps up to the Headmaster's office.

He gave a hesitant knock, and entered with a warm "Come in". Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk in a set of deep daffodil robes; half moon spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "Ah, Silas," he said, putting his book aside and folding his spectacles, pocketing them. "Please, take a seat."

Gingerly, Silas sat in one of the plush purple chairs. It felt vastly different to be here without Anthony, without the weight of Gwyn on his shoulders. "Uh, hullo Professor." He wasn't sure what else to say.

Dumbledore leaned forward, hands clasped; he appeared to be attempting at being open, but his intense stare was a tad unnerving. "I wanted to simply...check up on you, Silas."

"Oh." Silas shifted nervously. "Well, I'm okay sir, thank you."

"Your mother taught you wonderful manners Silas, but it is all right not to be...your best self, you understand?"

"I understand sir, but really – I am doing all right."

"Nothing has been –" he paused, searching Silas' face, "Bothering you?"

Silas thought of watching his father and sister grow smaller on the platform, how empty his house felt, and the way everyone seemed to be tiptoeing around him. "No sir, nothing has been bothering me."

Sitting back in his chair, Dumbledore looked unsure. "Well, if you ever feel the need to...clear anything up, something you may not feel comfortable asking your father –"

"I find it very easy to talk to my father." Silas interrupted. "We're very alike."

There was something odd about the way Dumbledore hesitated. "Yes, I can see that. Fathers and sons are...tricky."

For a moment Silas wondered if Dumbledore had somehow gotten inside his head, but shook the suspicion away. Standing he fiddled with his book bag. "I don't think I'm old enough to agree yet. Professor." He added, unsure of where the conversation was going.

"You know Silas, I met your mother when she was just a little girl." Dumbledore adopted a troubled expression.

Silas' head snapped up; this was an unexpected turn. "You did? How – I mean –"

"One day I will tell you the story," Dumbledore assured him. "I was very grieved to hear of her passing."

A chill settled over Silas. "Yeah, well..." he swallowed with difficulty. "Professor, it's getting a little late, and I have class tomorrow, may I...?"

"Of course Silas," Dumbledore waved his hand, smiling. "Remember, I am always around if you ever have any – questions, ones that may seem hard to answer." He replaced his spectacles. "Have a good evening, Silas."

"Goodnight, Professor." Said Silas before leaving hurriedly. He couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore knew something about Silas, about his mother – since Gwyn had died it felt as if there were a secret hovering over his head, and if only he could reach up quickly enough and catch it, all would be revealed.

A/N: Well, Dumbledore is certainly sticking his crooked nose in the business of the Riddle family, isn't he...

Question: Thoughts on McGonagall, and Dumbledore's...snooping? Could you call it that? He obviously wants to see if Silas suspects anything.

Rose