A/N: I went back to correct a few things about the last chapter, if you're interested. The most important thing was that I said it was August 21st when the boys went to Hogsmeade and later that night, Sirius contacted them. I meant November. Sorry and thanks for pointing it out! That was a silly mistake to make.

First Tasks

Dumbledore strode to the dungeons. He had checked the wards immediately when Harry didn't show up for breakfast and was dismayed to find the boy in Severus' quarters with Remus Lupin and Neville Longbottom. Something of great purport had to have happened for Severus to willingly allow the werewolf and Longbottom in his quarters! Severus' dislike for the werewolf and the clumsy Gryffindor was infamous. Dumbledore didn't even bother with portraits and passwords when he reached his Potion Master's door and gestured it open with a wave of his hand.

The two teachers turned as they heard the door open. Remus and Severus were sitting next to each other in chairs by the couch, both looking exhausted and strained with worry. Neville was sitting on the floor, staring at Harry as he held his hand. Dumbledore frowned severely as he took in Harry's flushed and feverish face, scrunched in pain, and how he lay limp and unconscious on the couch.

"What is going on and why wasn't I informed immediately!" he demanded.

"Sir." Severus stood stiffly. "I found Potter unconscious in the hallway about two hours ago." Which was a lie. He'd found Harry a good seven hours ago, now. "I was going to take him to the infirmary, but deemed that unwise. I brought him here and decided he needed care immediately and began testing him. I've just finished examining the boy and my gut reaction was correct. Nothing physical ails him. His illness is completely mental in nature. As soon as I recovered my breath, I was going to come fetch you."

"And how did Remus and Neville come to be here?" Dumbledore scowled, not sure if he could believe his spy. This was just too coincidental.

"I have the Marauder's map, sir," Remus spoke calmly. "I saw Severus bring Harry here and came to check on him. Neville was with me. He woke early this morning and, when he found Harry not in bed, came to ask me if I had seen him."

"Why didn't one of you two fetch me if Severus was busy?"

"I didn't think of it, Headmaster." Remus shrugged. "I wanted to be here if Harry woke."

"Me, too," Neville spoke softly, barely audible.

"I see." Dumbledore was still frowning, but it was less harsh. "What can we do, Severus? Harry must show up for the briefing before the task in half an hour."

"I don't know what caused this and am unconvinced forcing him awake would be the best course of action," Severus said evenly. His face betrayed none of his dislike or protective anger.

"We must chance it." Dumbledore stepped closer and raised his wand.

"No!" Neville jumped to his feet. He lost all clumsiness and his eyes practically glowed with ferocity. "Professor Snape said it might hurt him to force him awake! You can't!"

Remus reached out and put a hand on Neville's shoulder, but he didn't tell him to stop.

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly, "It is very good you care for Harry, Neville, but this must be done. If the reaction is negative, then we can put him back to sleep."

Neville didn't move and Severus thought he could feel the faintest tremor in the stone under his feet. He flashed the Wolf a warning glance and Remus pulled Neville toward him.

"Very good, my boy." Dumbledore smiled and cast Ennervate on Harry.

The teen whimpered, but didn't wake. Dumbledore frowned. There was no way for Harry to miss this task. The consequences would be horrible. The teen had already been fodder for the press. Missing the first task would turn the Wizarding World against him and forever put in doubt his strength. As the future leader of the Light, Harry could not afford that.

"Maybe he should rest," he said with false sympathy. "His health is more important than the Tournament, by Godric's sword."

Harry's eyes flew open. They were so dark, the green was almost black. His mouth fell open in a silent scream and his body convulsed once before the teen curled up on his side and laid panting and moaning, sweat drenching him in seconds. Neville cried out in fury and dismay, dropping to his knees and rubbing Harry's back soothingly. Severus flung his robe open and pulled potions from his pocket while Remus stood ridged, fighting with all his strength to keep from attacking the headmaster. A light growl could be heard coming from his throat.

Harry glared up at the headmaster even as he whimpered. Severus blocked his view and asked him softly what potions he needed. Harry could hardly think. His head felt like molten lava and his eyes felt dry as the desert. He would have cursed if he had the strength. As it was, the pain in his head was so great he couldn't even feel the rest of his body. So he closed his eyes and tried to endure the agony.

A vial was put to his lips and he swallowed, too tired to fight, but he promised himself he would kill the headmaster when he had the chance. Things still weren't settled from the merge, memories and impressions were still jumbled and blurred, and it was because of the fucking leash burning against his brain. It transferred over, as well, and was seeing the merge as an attack on it and fighting back. Of course, he couldn't stop the merge, and by now, it was almost complete. Oh, he would hurt the headmaster for this. It was only fair.

"Harry, my boy?" Dumbledore asked with concern, eyes bright with innocence.

"Fuck. Off." Harry growled and obediently swallowed the second vial Severus put to his lips.

He winced as the curtain of pain surrounding his head thinned and in its place emotions spiked and swirled in his mind. Dumbledore was flashing with rage and Neville was see-sawing from amusement and concern. Severus was tight with anxiety, a chaotic spill of uncertainty and anger. Remus was the worst. The werewolf was close to the surface and the shear hunger for blood and destruction burned against Harry's raw mind.

"Please…" he whimpered, too desperate to care how pathetic he sounded. "Sev'rus… help…" He grasped his hair and tears streamed from his eyes as he began to have a panic attack of his own.

Severus was confused for a moment, but then pounced. He dropped to his knees and gently put his hands on his child's temples, his black eyes boring into the agony filled emeralds before him. Very carefully, he applied his own barriers to the teen's mind. The rolling agony he found made him grit his teeth. When he finished, Harry sighed and went limp, sprawled on the couch.

"Severus? What happened?" Dumbledore demanded.

The dark-eyed man said nothing. He was too enraged and if he spoke he'd reveal his true emotions and feelings toward the man, and they couldn't have that. Instead, he acted disorientated and hoped he could calm before Dumbledore grew impatient. Harry immediately grasped Severus' vulnerability and protective fury gave him the strength to open his eyes and speak. Besides, he didn't want the old bastard knowing about his empathy or anything else if he could help it.

"Didn't you hear me? Go away, Dumbledore," he snarled softly.

"Harry, child…" Dumbledore said with concern, but his eyes blazed with warning.

"Look," he ground out. "I'm in severe pain here. Can you wait one goddamn minute for explanations? Don't worry about the fucking Tournament. I'll be there."

"Very well," Dumbledore rumbled. "But after the first task we will talk, young man. About respecting your elders and watching your language."

"Looking forward to it." Harry turned his face away.

"Come, Neville, Remus. Let's let Harry recover." Dumbledore herded the two toward the door.

They went unresisting only because they knew if they argued that would let Dumbledore stay longer. Neville looked over his shoulder worriedly, though. Harry turned his face back to look at him and smiled. See you later, brother, he mouthed. Neville relaxed a bit and smiled back. Then they were gone.

Harry turned his head to look at Severus and saw the man watching him like a hawk, but because Severus' mind was still containing him he could also sense his emotions quite clearly. He was concerned and suspicious and protective. He smiled and relaxed, just soaking up the man's care and affection, though Severus would die before he ever called it that.

"Are you well? The briefing should start in two minutes," Severus' cool, smooth voice washed over him.

"Peachy." Harry smiled and opened his eyes. They were brighter, though still tense with pain. "It's just a normal migraine now. I might even be able to sit up."

"Now isn't the time for jokes," Severus scolded softly, carefully not raising his voice. He had been the victim of migraines as well and knew sound and light would only aggravate it.

"Got anymore potions?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"I do, but you can't have them without risking an overdose." Severus paused. "Care to explain what happened? And are you Gabriel or Harry?"

"Both." Harry met the man's eyes. "We merged. I didn't want to go to sleep anymore and not know what was going on. I wanted to help Cedric and Viktor, so I accepted Gabriel back..." Harry sighed. "It wouldn't have hurt if it weren't for Dumbledore's fucking brand. In fact, I already feel… I don't know… stronger, surer. Like I've only been half-awake and now I'm here for the first time."

Severus didn't know how he felt about this. He felt proud of Harry for merging another alter, but for the Host to now be a good portion of Gabriel worried him. What would the headmaster make of this? How would this affect the balance with the other alters? But his worries lifted a bit when he saw the truly happy expression on Harry's face. He did seem much more comfortable in his body now. The meek aura was gone, but his eyes held the same amount of affection and care. He was still the Harry he knew.

"Very well." He strode to his private potions cabinet. "We have two minutes to get you on your feet."

Harry settled back with a pleased smile, completely trusting Severus to take care of him.

xXxXxXx

Harry was the last to enter the Champions' tent. And Bagman turned to face him with a nervous face. Seeing it was Harry that had just entered, his whole face lit up and he cried, "Harry! Good-o!" It took all of Harry's self-control to hide his wince at the shout. His head was still painfully fragile and if it weren't for Severus even now Occluding for him, he'd be writhing on the floor in agony. They'd have to get Dumbledore's leash off soon. That was all there was to it.

"Well, now we're all here – time to fill you in!" Bagman said brightly.

As he blathered on, Harry looked around at the other Champions. Fleur was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Harry couldn't use his empathy at the moment, but if he had to guess, he'd say she was terrified. Viktor looked even surlier than usual, but Harry knew that for a front and thought his eyes were grim. Cedric was bouncing on the heels of his feet, he was nervous and twitchy. His eyes were wide.

Harry was almost tempted to reassure them that he'd be watching them and everything would be fine. It wasn't like helping the other Champions was against the rules, no one ever considered any Champion would. But despite that, Harry didn't say anything. They probably would be insulted since he was younger than them, and he didn't want to tip his hand too soon. Silas would kill him if he did. And where was his Slytherin alter?

Sy? You awake?

Nothing. Harry worriedly bit his lip, hoping very hard that Silas was alright and just ignoring him. He knew that wasn't true - Silas would never abandon him in such a critical moment - but it was better than fretting himself useless with worry that Silas was hurt. Hey! Maybe they just couldn't talk to each other anymore! ... No. That didn't make sense. He had been able to hear Silas before the change, so he should be able to now.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts as Bagman turned to him and offered a pouch. He pulled out the only thing inside and looked at his miniature dragoon with a number four. Good. Looks like the bad luck charm he had cast on himself worked. He got the hardest and last dragon. Now he could help the others without anyone knowing. Hopefully. He turned his back on the other Champions and subtly canceled the charm.

No need to make my battle for the Golden Egg harder than it has to be, he thought with a pained grin. Things will be hard enough with this damn migraine. I definitely have to do something about Dumbledore!

"Now… Harry… could I have a quick word? Outside?"

"Er… yes," Harry said blankly. He hadn't expected this. He followed the cheery, round man out of the tent and around the back. When Bagman turned with a concerned expression, Harry had to bite back a groan. Not another overly concerned pep-talk!

"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?"

"I'm fine, sir." He flashed a smile and tried to look confident. He was confident for himself, but he was still concerned about the others. Even now he could hear the roars of the dragons. It would be very easy for someone to get severely hurt today.

"Got a plan? Because I don't mind…"

"Really, I'm fine, Mr. Bagman." Harry shook his head. "We could get in trouble if anyone found us talking like this. Let's go back."

"If you're sure…" Bagman was frowning.

"I am." Harry sighed. Just then a whistle blew.

"Good Merlin, I've got to run!" Bagman hurried off without another word.

"Saved by the whistle." Harry chuckled and went back to the tent.

Cedric was just leaving and he looked greener than ever. Harry clasped his shoulder bracingly, but he doubted the seventh year even felt it. Inside the tent, Fleur was staring off into space, but Viktor looked over and Harry read a question in his eyes. He shrugged in answer and turned back to the tent flap, peeking out. There were about ten feet of grass between him and the doorway through the temporary wooden, coliseum-type stands.

If he could get across without being seen, he'd be able to watch Cedric's match and offer discrete assistance when needed. He couldn't see any guards. Everyone was too interested in watching the match themselves. The crowd was cheering and screaming, and sharp spikes of pain flashed through his brain. Harry grit his teeth and turned to face the others.

"I'm going to go closer to see what's happening."

"That is against de rules." Fleur glared.

"I know you want to see, too." Harry smiled. "Come on. It's not like it will help us any. I just want to make sure Cedric is alright."

Fleur eyed him and then nodded. Viktor said nothing, but followed when they crept out of the tent. They went through the short corridor and peeked into the arena just as the Swedish Short-Snout blew fire at the Hufflepuff's exposed back. Harry chanted a quick spell that, thankfully, went unheard as the crowd roared. Cedric was flung forward, his shirt singed, but his skin undamaged.

"That was a close one! Good thing he dodged at the last second or this Champion would have lost the task before it really got started!" Bagman's voice filled the stadium.

Harry was looking around. Surely Cedric wasn't trying to get to the egg without any magical help whatsoever…. There! A black Labrador was running through the rocks. And it did distract the dragon, but the Short-Snout always returned to Cedric as he tried to get closer to the nest. Harry concentrated and began to mutter. Sweat fell into his eyes, but he couldn't afford to move and wipe it away. He gasped when he finally finished and the pressure in his chest snapped and lifted. He would have fallen if Viktor hadn't reached over and steadied him.

The Labrador was barking and snarling. Cedric's illusion now not only fooling the eyes but the ears and nose as well. The dragon's head snapped around and she tried attacking the quick and darting threat. Cedric made better forward progress, but still had to be careful as the dragon always snapped around at him if he moved too quickly. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, Cedric dove and got the egg. The dragon turned and blew fire at him furiously, but the seventh year was rolling into safety behind some boulders. Harry knew he'd be fine and tugged on Fleur and Viktor to get them to return to the tent.

"Very good indeed!" they could hear Bagman cry. "And now for the marks from the judges!"

Harry sat in a chair feeling tired and satisfied. He watched Fleur talk herself up, and she walked out of the tent with her head held high. Viktor raised an eyebrow and Harry smiled and got to his feet. The German boy shook his head. They snuck back to the door to the arena and found Fleur singing up at a Welsh Green.

Harry had a sudden urge to give in and take a nap and quickly cast a deafening charm on himself and Viktor who had sat down with his eyes closed in preparation for a nap. Viktor blinked at him with a frown and then blushed a bright red. Harry snickered and turned his attention back to the French girl and dragon.

The Welsh Green was swaying, his eyes half-lidded. This was going to work. Harry felt proud of Fleur, but then she made a mistake. She moved too soon; the dragon still not completely under the power of her song. Harry could see the dragon growing more aware as the seconds passed and Fleur didn't notice it. She was looking at the eggs.

She was just within reach when the dragon bellowed and released a huge stream of fire. Harry cast a shield charm and only her skirt went up in flames instead of her skin. The determined girl didn't stop to put out the fire until after she snagged the egg and ran back to safety. Then she quickly cast a water charm. Harry shook his head. That girl really, really wanted to win.

"Harry, I do not vant you to interfere vith me. I can do vis on my own," Krum spoke up once they reached the tent. "You need to rest and prepare for your own dragon. Promise me, you vill not leave vis tent."

"But…" Harry protested.

"No. Ve are friends, I thought. Trust me as a friend. I can do vis."

Harry knew Viktor was serious. His eyes told him that. He sighed, "Alright. I trust you. But if you get hurt…"

"I know. You vill not let me forget it!" Viktor gave him a rare smile and strode from the tent.

It was worse than Harry could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed… yelled… gasped like a single entity as Viktor did whatever he was doing. And Bagman's vague commentary made everything worse. Harry fidgeted with his shirt and bit his lip, hoping he had made the right decision. Oh, Viktor better not even have a scratch! At least Harry knew Viktor was still alive and moving by the screaming crowd. The wait ended sooner than he thought it would, sooner than Cedric and Fleur anyway, and Harry smiled triumphantly. Way to go, Viktor!

Harry stood and made his way to the arena as Bagman called his name. Spells, charms, hexes, and curses that affected dragons flashed through his mind. He stepped into the bolder strewn arena and saw his Horntail sitting in the center with malevolent eyes. The sound of the crowd and Bagman's hysteric voice was even louder and Harry rubbed at his temples. His hands were shaking with fatigue and stress.

"Fuck it," he muttered. "I just have to get the egg, not fight the dragon. Accio Firebolt!"

…

Harry was bustled into the first aid tent still burning with adrenaline. The Golden Egg sat securely in his hands and he stared at it as Madam Pomfrey dealt with the gash in his shoulder where the dragon's tail had sliced into him as he dove for the eggs. Cedric was across the way and the Hufflepuff waved cheerily when Harry looked up at him. His face was scorched, but he'd be fine. Harry smiled back. His attention was distracted when a group of people came darting into the tent.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione said tearfully. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. "You were amazing! You really were!"

Ron was standing next to her, his face white. "Harry, whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you?" Harry glared. "Took you long enough." But as he stared at his first friend, his anger melted away. He really hated it when they were fighting. With a loud sigh, he managed to smile. "Forget it."

"No," Ron looked miserable. "I shouldn't've been such a prat. I'm really sorry, Harry."

"It's alright." He got off the bed and gave his friend a quick squeeze. This time his smile was truly happy. "Really, Ron. Forget it."

Ron's shoulders drooped in relief and Hermione burst into relieved tears. Neville shook his head at her and pat her back reassuringly. Harry could tell by his brother's expression that he wasn't happy Ron was forgiven, but like Remus said, Ron hadn't done anything unforgivable. He had only ignored him. Sure it had hurt, but he wouldn't feel any better if he continued to fight with the redhead.

So I take it your emotions are going to blunt your thirst for justice and fairness? Silas murmured weakly. I can't say that's an improvement, really.

Silas!

Don't shout, the Slytherin hissed.

Are you alright? Harry meekly lowered his voice. Are you hurt?

Just a headache. The transfer of the mental portkey from back alter to Host did some damage, but it's healing. Demon also woke for a bit, but the door held and kept him Inside. I think the fewer alters there are in here, the more awake he gets because there are fewer alters between him and consciousness.

Sorry, Harry lowered his head.

Don't be. This was going to happen sooner or later, so it doesn't matter. We'll deal with it. Demon is still very much locked away. Silas reassured and his voice was beginning to sound stronger. I take it you beat the task and all the other Champions survived.

Yeah. Harry nodded.

Congratulations, Silas sneered, but Harry could tell he was honestly glad for him.

Thanks, Sy.

"Harry!" Ron shook his arm. "Are you listening?"

"What?" Harry blinked and looked around. He was walking back to the arena. Hermione was gone, but Neville was on his other side looking worried.

"I was telling you about what the other Champions did," Ron grinned. "It was awesome!"

"Oh, yeah, it was." Harry grinned and then they were in the arena.

"You okay, Gabe?" Neville whispered in his ear.

"Harry. Just Harry now," he whispered back. Neville gaped at him in shock and Harry snickered.

"What?" Ron bellowed furiously. "Four? You lousy, biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!"

Harry smiled at his friend. He didn't care about points at all, but having Ron on his side again was the best reward he could be given. He didn't tell Ron this, of course, but his heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time. He turned and found the twins running up to him with huge grins. Harry grinned back and accepted their big hugs.

"You're tied in first place, Harry!" – "You and Krum!" they said excitedly.

"Where have you two been?" Harry yelled back.

"Had some business to take care of," one winked.

"Speaking of, we've got to run. See you back in the Tower, Harry!"

Mr. Crouch came and collected Harry and the other Champions and they returned to the tent. Cedric had a bandage around his head and Fleur had a few healing scrapes, but Viktor was fine. He winked once at Harry and Harry grinned back at the Seeker. Crouch coughed and they settled down.

"The next task will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth. The eggs you have collected is your only clue, so be diligent in exploring them."

Harry and the Champions exchanged happy glances and hurried out of the tent. Harry was snagged by the arm and expected to see one of his friends. Instead, he came face to face with a viciously smiling Rita Skeeter. Silas growled in their head and Harry bared his teeth in warning.

"Congratulations, Harry! I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring?"

"Sorry," he smiled sharply. "I gave Melissa Silverwood exclusive rights to my interviews during the Tournament. And she promised to represent me fairly."

Rita gaped at him as he turned and stomped back up to the castle.

That was supposed to be a surprise, Silas drawled.

Did you see the look on her face? Harry laughed. It was worth it!

You know, Silas said slowly and then his voice lit with a smug amusement. I think you're right.

Harry laughed with delight and walked into the Entrance Hall. He was immediately swept up by the Gryffindors and his friends. They were cheering and talking in a rapid flow. Harry, triumphant and exhilarated, gave way to them. Not even the pounding of his head and the thinning of Severus' Occluding barriers could make him feel bad.

They were halfway to the Tower when Dumbledore stepped out of the shadows and asked, with twinkling eyes, for Harry to come with him for a short moment. Suddenly, the world didn't seem so great anymore. Harry tried to fight his expression blank, but it kept folding into a glare. Silas was still and small in their head, keeping his opinions to himself. Harry was glad. He cared about Silas greatly, but there was no way he was going to give the Headmaster an inch after all he had done to him!

"Have a seat, Gabriel." Dumbledore gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he sat in his own.

"I think I'll stand, thanks." Harry snapped.

"Care to tell me what happened this morning?"

You have to tell him something or he'll dig until he gets the truth. Silas hissed, desperately wanting Out, but the portkey prevented him. Say you were attacked in the halls. Don't remember the attacker. The spell caught you when you were coming Out to protect Harry and messed up the transition.

Harry crossed his arms defiantly, but said what Silas wanted him to.

Dumbledore stared at him calmly over his half-moon glasses and smiled when Harry finished explaining. "I'm sorry the school was upset with you these past few weeks, but I feel the mood will change now that the first task is through."

"Can I go?" Harry said impatiently.

"Yes. You did very, very well. I'm proud of you, Gabriel." Dumbledore smiled and it made Harry want to run. "Rest with ease."

With a startled gasp, Harry collapsed, unconscious.

xXxXxXx

The soul chamber had changed when Harry and Gabriel merged. Originally, the sitting room had white carpet and a single black couch facing the window to the Outside. The walls were gray stone and draped with neutral cream curtains and the four doors to the other alters. Now the sitting room had only three doors branching off from it and that wasn't the only difference.

A white chaise longue with two dark red pillows stood to the side where Gabriel's door had been. On either side of it, there were two mahogany bookshelves with dozens of magical and physical defense books. The black couch still stood in the center of the room and the curtains still draped the other half where the three doors stood, and the window to the Outside was the same.

Silas was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, but his eyes alertly watching the window. He hissed when the headmaster banished Harry and he jumped to his feet, already moving to where the chaise longue stood. Harry formed, curled up and deeply asleep. He didn't look how Gabriel saw himself anymore, but he didn't look exactly like their shared body either.

Harry had manifested taller and a bit more muscled. His hair was straighter, black with red highlights, and he didn't need glasses. Silas didn't know whether his eyes were green or blue, but didn't think he'd ever have a chance to find out. If his guess was correct, Harry would always form sleeping in the Soul chamber, but would be able to talk to him whenever he wanted when Harry was Out.

Silas noticed the crown of light was still there, and it pulsed angrily, still unhappy about the merge. Dumbledore's voice drifted through the window. He was calling Silas. The Slytherin straightened and made his face go blank, but before he went Out, he reached down and stroked Harry's hair once. He wasn't sure if he was soothing himself or Harry and shook his head.

xXxXxXx

Silas opened his eyes, narrowed against the pounding pain in his head. Dumbledore stood and offered him a hand up. His eyes were twinkling like mad and Silas narrowed his still further. Moving carefully, so as not to display his weakness, Silas stood on his own and arrogantly began brushing off his shirt. It was stained from the battle with the dragon. Oh, well. He looked up and met the headmaster's eyes, knowing that Severus would be aware that Harry was no longer in control by the shattering of his Occlumency shields that were protecting Harry's mind from his empathy. It was nice to know someone would rescue him if things got too desperate up here.

"Is there something you need?" he asked gently, more because he was sure his head would explode if he talked loudly than because of the act he had committed himself to putting on for the old manipulator.

Dumbledore chuckled and stroked his beard, "Gabriel doesn't care much for authority figures."

No, it's just you he hates, Silas thought, but answered the way he knew the old man wanted him to. "He's confident in his own abilities and judgment and doesn't see the need for guidance."

"I see." Dumbledore folded his hands on his stomach. "How do you feel about today's battle?"

"It was ridiculous," Silas answered. "We could have gotten hurt and for what? Points in a Tournament? It's not acceptable."

"But Gabriel enjoyed it."

"I'm sure," Silas shrugged. "I must go. If I stay too long…"

"I did want to share with you another memory I have found." Dumbledore smiled kindly. He moved to the alcove and brought over his Pensieve. "It should only take ten minutes." Silas nodded, secretly doing all he could to hide his pain and remain steady. "You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton while Merope was left to fend for herself in London."

Silas couldn't help but notice how much the headmaster loved to emphasize the fact that Voldemort's father was Muggle. Of course it was humorous to imagine all Voldemort's little cockroaches finding that out, but he had no idea why it was so important to Dumbledore that Silas know that fact. Dumbledore stared at him as if expecting a response, but Silas just didn't have the strength to indulge in trivial words. The old man didn't seem to mind too badly and continued, loving the sound of his voice, Silas was sure.

"I know she was in London because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke, who helped create the very shop where the necklace we saw previously around Merope's neck ended up." He gestured to the Pensive and swirled it once.

The face of a man floated to the surface and Silas fought a sneer of impatience. Dumbledore chuckled, oblivious to Silas' simmering temper. Thankfully something was happening and a voice of a man lifted out of the Pensieve as the Burke's face spoke up at them.

"Yes, we acquired this locket in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along and going to have a baby soon. She told me that the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, I heard that sort of thing all the time, but sure enough, after testing it, I realized she was telling the truth. Of course, that made it near priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain I ever made!"

Dumbledore shook the Pensieve and the memory stopped and settled to the bottom. He looked over at Silas, "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

Thank's for the recap, Silas thought silently, but couldn't stop the sneer. Dumbledore merely smiled brighter at him. He had to clench his teeth not to growl.

"It's my belief – I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right – that she didn't use magic to aid her because she had stopped since her beloved husband had abandoned her. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."

I highly doubt she couldn't use her magic for any of the reasons you stated, senile old coot. Silas was biting the inside of his lip now. If it weren't for how potentially useful the information he was being freely given could possibly be, he would have walked out long ago.

Dumbledore gestured for them to actually enter the Pensieve and he sighed as his face touched the silver liquid. He watched silently as a younger, but still thoroughly annoying and arrogant Dumbledore went to the orphanage to collect an eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. Silas ignored the bastard as much as he could and focused on the child. He was haunted and jittery, sure signs of long being prey and hunted. He was disgusted by Dumbledore's passive aggressive behavior and how his body language screamed that Tom was being judged already.

Knowing from experience that Dumbledore's unconsciously superior behavior would only have made Tom instantly hate and fear him, not emotions that should have been encouraged. Overall, Silas had to concede that the way he had been collected had been much better. Dumbledore did right by not coming for Silas himself. He may not have felt the need to prove himself and create a Host alter, instead going to Slytherin and maybe ending up a bit like Voldemort.

Tom was obviously a child desperate to believe he was worth something because the people in his world tried so hard to make him believe he wasn't. Silas had seen his moment of happy joy at being told he was a wizard and going to be taken from his hated world. This was a damaged, but salvageable child.

But Silas knew Tom wouldn't be saved. Knew from his meeting the diary Tom that Dumbledore's suspicious and degrading and overall non-helpful attitude would only worsen, making Tom feel trapped and defensive. Obviously the child didn't know how to form healthy connections to others and instead of getting help, he is left to sink or swim all the while being watched from the sidelines with the expectations of failure. It wasn't a surprise that Tom had cracked and sunk instead of swimming.

They landed outside the Pensieve and Dumbledore sighed. He looked for all the world like he couldn't understand how a child so young could go so wrong. Silas ground his teeth and promised himself that this man would NEVER get more power over him than he already had.

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was – to use his word – special," Dumbledore said sadly, like it was a failing.

But we are special, you stupid bastard, Silas thought coldly. Compared to Muggles, we're mythical creatures! Tom had every right to feel that way. Every Muggle child does when they first learn of magic and Hogwarts. You condemn him for nothing! And he doesn't truly believe he's better than everyone. He's just desperately hoping it is true because that's how he gets through every horrible day. So what if he was finally able to strike out at his tormentors? He should get counsel and guidance, not your condemnation!

He clinched his fist, knowing too well that he was seeing himself too much in Tom Riddle. He remembered some of the things he was able to do to Dudley with his abilities before he knew they were magic. What he had done to some of his teachers who had been disgusted by the way he dressed and suspicious about his reclusive and quiet nature.

"I was intrigued by him." Dumbledore went on. "I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I out to do for others' sake as much as his. His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and – most interestingly and ominously of all – he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them."

It wouldn't have been ominous if you had liked him. Instead it would have been amazing and he would have been seen as a prodigy, Silas sneered. Dumbledore was too caught up in himself to notice.

"And as you saw they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards. He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lure into a cave were most suggestive… 'I can make them hurt if I want to...' he had said." Dumbledore sighed again.

Silas sighed too, but for different reasons. He knew, unlike Dumbledore, that in a hostile environment where you were helpless, there was no time or luxury to use new found abilities for frivolous pursuits. Of course Tom's magic developed in a way to intimidate and hurt. He was protecting himself from future torment. Silas had tried that only once, but Dudley told on him when he tried to threaten him and Boy stayed Out for a long time after that. Forever after, he only used his magic to escape, hide, and cause diversions that couldn't be immediately pinned on freakish sources. But Tom had no one to stop him from lashing out.

"Time is making fools of us," Dumbledore stood and put the Pensieve away. "There is time for more of this later. But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed; for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.

"I trust you noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

"And lastly – I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Silas – the young Tom Riddle liked to collected trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"Now it is time for you to return to your Tower and celebrate." Dumbledore smiled brightly and looked at him with gentle authority. "Gabriel, no matter what you may think, did wonderfully today."

Silas nodded once and left the room as gracefully as he could. He was highly embarrassed that the bastard had noticed his weakness and so rudely pointed out his failure to hide it. He also felt pity for the young boy who had been written off when he didn't have to be. Not that that changed Silas' position. No matter the whys or his abstract sympathy, Voldemort was a threat to himself and that wouldn't change.

He made his way to the dungeons. He knew he'd have trouble explaining his absence to the Gryffindors, but he really couldn't deal with a party at the moment. He was barely holding things together as it was. The stress of being pushed to front and the added responsibilities that had landed in his lap were almost too much.

He had retreated in the mind and given up the Host position because he couldn't deal with day-to-day interactions and tasks. He was better at planning the future or contemplating the motives of others. Having to be more active to check Harry/Gabriel, on top of his charade with Dumbledore and his interactions with Draco, as well as untangling Voldemort's current plot and how to preserve his life, as well as the life of all the other alters, was just too much for him to handle. Going to Gryffindor Tower was not an option. Boy was already trembling on the brink of coming Out.

"Silas?" Severus opened his door and gestured him in immediately. "I felt Harry's sudden retreat; I assume you were called forward by the Headmaster?"

"I was." Silas sighed and sat on the couch. He didn't bother looking up at his mentor or even trying to conceal his exhaustion and strain. "We will discuss it later. For right now, I need a safe place to sleep." He leaned over carefully and lay down. He was asleep almost before he was completely horizontal and he hadn't even had time to pull his legs up on the couch with him.

Severus frowned worriedly down at his student, carefully lifting the legs and making the teen's position more comfortable. He watched him for a minute longer. Things were getting progressively dangerous and the situation worse. He just couldn't understand how everything could spiral out of control so quickly.

They still didn't know how to transfer that damnable portkey-crown from around Gabe… No, it was just Harry now. And he still hadn't discovered who placed Harry's name in the goblet besides Dumbledore, and the mangy mutt was right about the Death Eaters becoming more active. It seemed like threats to Harry's sanity and life was converging from all sides and they had neither bulwark to hide behind nor a weapon powerful enough to defend themselves with.

Severus straightened his spine and snarled silently. He hadn't been helpless in decades and he wasn't going to return to it now. He was hardly powerless. He would protect Harry. They merely had to stop waiting for things to protect them and actively participate in building defenses. Satisfied, Severus turned and stalked to his office. There was much to be done.

Chapter end.

A/N: Okay, I didn't get anything in about Neville or Harry's new Animagus form. It will definitely be in the next chapter. Sorry! This story just insists on a lot of detail and it makes the pace drag. I'm just having a hard time cutting things when they seem important. Do you guys think I'm moving too slow?