Chapter 3 – Misunderstandings
They all walked in, Silas bringing up the rear as he wiped his eyes. He sighed with relief when he saw the old man behind the desk. Finally someone he recognised! But there was something different about him – he seemed younger, and there were fewer lines around his eyes. Maybe he'd been getting more sleep recently.
Silas pushed passed the others. "Professor Dumbledore!"
The Headmaster stood up. The other two people who were sitting facing him turned around in their seats.
Silas recognised one of them, even though he, too, looked younger and less tired than usual.
"Remus!" he said excitedly, but his Godfather just looked surprisingly bewildered.
"Can I help you, young man?" said Dumbledore.
"Where's my mum?" said Silas, looking around for her. "She's meant to be here!"
"I'm sorry," Dumbledore started to say, but Silas rushed ahead.
"She's supposed to have come here with James – she took the Portkey to Hogwarts!"
Dumbledore frowned. "There are no Portkeys to Hogwarts," he said. "The castle is protected against them – it has been for a while…"
Dumbledore's eyes flicked towards the older black-haired boy.
"But you gave it to my Dad! Silas exclaimed. "You must remember! In case something happened! We were being attacked by Death Eaters – "
The other man in the room whom Silas did not recognise croaked "Death Eaters?"
"Yes," said Silas, nodding frantically. "Seven of them. Dad told us to take the Portkey but I couldn't leave him so I followed him downstairs and I couldn't hold the shield, and he tried to apparate out of there but he got hit with a curse and –"
Professor Dumbledore held up a hand. Silas stopped talking and stood there, breathing heavily.
"Harry," said Professor Dumbledore. "Would you like to explain your companion?"
Silas felt the anger building inside him again. Why didn't Dumbledore believe him? Why was he asking that boy, whom Silas had decided he most definitely did not like?
Strangely enough, the boy didn't look all too please either. "Well, I don't really know, sir," said the boy, scratching the back of his head. "Dave, from Hufflepuff, you know, said he was lost so we said we'd take him up since we were coming anyway. Only… he spoke Parseltongue, on the way up."
"I did not!" Silas yelled. His father talked to snakes, he never had.
"He did sir," said the redheaded boy, stepping forward. "Hermione asked him his name, and he hissed at her."
"Oh?" said Dumbledore, "And what did he say?"
The black haired boy shrugged. "He said 'son'."
"I did not!" Silas said again. "I said my name, Silas!"
"No," said the boy Dumbledore had called Harry. "You said, Silas." It was the same word, but it came out in a long throaty hiss. Everyone in the room who wasn't sitting down moved one step away from the boy. "It literally translates as 'son'. Didn't you know?"
"No," Silas lied. He did know. But no one else knew except his father, and his mother, who had insisted on knowing when her husband immediately suggested the name for their son. Harry had told her only because she had her own ways of finding out – sometimes her gift was a serious disadvantage.
Passa's four godparents had looked strangely at him, but hadn't asked. They seemed to know that it was easier not to ask Silas' father things like that.
So how was it that this Harry knew? Silas' dad was the only Parselmouth in the world. He'd said.
"Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, quite calmly. "What are you suggesting here, here?"
"I don't know, sir," said Harry. "He's a little young to be a Death Eater…"
"I'm NOT a DEATH EATER!" Silas yelled. "I was just attacked by Death Eaters! I'm just Silas Potter! Why don't you recognise me?"
"Potter?" snarled the greasy haired man.
"YES! You HAVE to remember me! What's going on?"
"Well, he's not related to me," said Harry.
"What? Why should I be?"
"Well," said Professor Dumbledore, folding his fingers on the desk. "Parseltongue cannot be learned. It is either inherited, or, in your case Harry, magically transferred. So, unless something extremely significant has happened that I don't know about, this boy is either your son, which is highly unlikely, or –"
"No way," said Harry. "Just – no way."
Silas smiled faintly. He usually got his kind of reaction when people found out whom his father was.
"But," said the boy. "This kid can't be more than ten years old… it's impossible!"
"How old did you think I was?" Silas said, annoyed. Had the whole world suddenly turned stupid? It had been national new when he was born, he knew, perhaps even global. His dad had killed the most evil dark wizard of all time, after all.
There was a box in the attic full of the only press cuttings his father had ever kept – smiling, waving pictures of the three of them, only a year after his parents had been married.
"Who are you?" 'Harry demanded. "Who are you really?"
"I've told you," Silas said in pure exasperation. "Remus, tell them who I am."
Harry whirled on Remus, who held his hands up in defence. "I've never seen him before in my life," he said.
"You're my GODFATHER!" Silas yelled at him, suddenly void of any rational thought. "My Godfather! This isn't funny!"
Tears were crawling down his cheeks again but he didn't care, and he brushed them away in anger.
"Come in," said Dumbledore.
"A stiff, upright woman with her grey hair in a tight bun entered the room. "Hagrid found a man on the edge of the forest," she said in a shaky voice. "He's in the hospital wing, and he's asking for you."
"Very well," said Dumbledore. He motioned for Silas to go before him. Silas didn't want to, but the slim chance that the man the grey-haired lady was talking about could be his father compelled him.
It seemed like a very long journey to the hospital wing. They met Hagrid outside the door, and he looked shaken. He glanced at Silas, and Silas' heart rose, thinking that at last someone had recognised him, but the giant's eyes slid off him and back to Dumbledore. He opened the door, nodding to the Headmaster.
"Hagrid –" Silas started to plead, but Dumbledore gave him a little push inside before he could finish speaking.
There was a thin man in tattered and bloodstained green and black robes lying on one of the beds. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be dozing.
"… Dad?" Silas whispered, scarcely able to believe it.
The man's eyes shot open and he sat up with a grunt of pain. "Silas?" he croaked.
"DAD!" Silas ran forward and launched himself onto his father. Harry held his son tightly, whispering. "It's ok, son. Everything's going to be all right."
Awww.. sappy finish. Sniff. I love Harry/Silas scenes. Sniff. Not that you've seen too many of them so far – next chapter is practically aimed at them. See you soon – if you review!!
