The Rise of Voldemort Part 1

Minerva sat reading the scroll with the list of new students. There looked to be some promising children on the list but one never knew how the sorting hat would sort some children.

In her sixteen years as a Hogwarts instructor she never would have expected her now second year group of Gryffindors. She pulled out the picture of the group looking at the five boys and five girls. Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and Bertram Aubrey smiled back at her quite innocently from the back row where the boys had been placed. The innocence hadn’t lasted though. She remembered that they had set off dung bombs just after the picture was snapped.

Then there were the five girls; Lily Evans, Rosalind Bungs, Greta Catchlove, Sarah Grates and Fawnaife McKess. Fawnaife was in the center. She was always surrounded by the other girls as if they could protect her, mostly from the advances of Sirius Black, the precocious child. Fawnaife was a small child and even Minerva felt a more mothering attitude towards her than she had to other students and an intense fear that Fawnaife seemed more drawn to the Snape boy from Slytherin House than to her fellow housemates.

She considered the photo for a moment longer then returned to organizing her papers for the new term. It would do no good to worry about childish relationships yet. She would worry more when they entered their fourth years and their hormones went into overdrive as they always seemed too. A firm knock sounded at the door.

She looked at the clock, “Whoever could it be this late in the evening?”, she wondered aloud.

She opened the door expecting Mrs. Moody with a late night treat or Mrs. Shacklebolt with some tidbit about Kingsley, she did not expect to see the three hooded men before her.

She moved to close the door but the hooded figure in front moved faster, sliding long fingers across the door frame and jerking the door from her grasp. She stumbled back into the room and the door closed with the hooded figure alone before her.

“Minerva, that is no way to greet a guest you have not seen in a long time,” came the voice from the hood and Minerva shuddered.

The hood was lowered revealing the face of Tom Riddle. It was not as handsome as she recalled from her youth. His eyes were more red and his skin more pale, his hair still dark but different somehow.

“I…with all of the news of late of masked murderers at people’s doors, I would think my reactions would have been understood…Tom.”

He shuddered this time. She knew from Albus that Tom Riddle was most likely the new self styled Lord Voldemort but she would not give him the pleasure of using the name.

“I have a new name now Minerva and a new purpose.”

“A new name and a new purpose?” she questioned, “I don’t understand Tom.”

Again the slight hissing and shudder as he stepped forward brushing past her to make his way around her small home.

There was not much to the house, but it was hers. The small kitchen and dining area spilled over into the main room where her table sat covered in papers. Then there was a small door to her bedroom and another to the lavatory. Riddle made the circuit, pausing longest by the door to the bedroom.

He turned, “All alone in such a cramped place. Really, Minerva, you could do so much better.”

He moved over to the table, moving parchments. Minerva’s anger burst forth, “Tom, those are my school papers. I don’t think it proper for you…”

“To view them Minerva? Probably not, but we are friends and I know that Albus is in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Mayhap you could put in a good word for me? I recall that he did not want my teaching ability five years ago when I applied but perhaps now he would.”

He stared at her, his red eyes trying to pierce into her soul. She would not allow it after all this time.

She strode forward grasping the parchments away, but a single picture fell from the group and Riddle picked it up before she could bend to retrieve it.

“Ah, beautiful children. Is that a Black I see, ahh and I believe that is the Potter’s only son. Lovely girls, two with red hair. I remember when you wore your hair red Minerva.”

He moved towards her and Minerva found herself backed against the door, Riddle towering over her as he held the picture out, “Which one is it that is so special? I heard rumor that Albus had found the new Earthmagi.”

Minerva found herself looking at the picture and focusing on one girl, Lily Evans. She could not think why other than the dire need to protect little Fawnaife. She shuddered that she might have just signed Lily’s death warrant with Riddle and his followers.

“Lovely girl,” his voice said as his fingers caressed her face. Minerva jumped but had now where to go but further against the door.

He moved closer leaning over her, fingering her hair, “It looked so much better red Nerva.”

He leaned in and with a jerk her head hit the door as he grasped her braid hard, “At least you never married any of the losers that followed you at school. It would be most unfortunate for them.”

“To…” she didn’t finish her sentence as he pressed small cold lips to hers and the breath left her body. She felt sickened as he pressed his tongue into her mouth. She tried to pull away but he pressed harder and harder until she thought he would rip the hair from her head and break her teeth with the pressure.

When she gave in, he released her, holding onto her braid. He pulled out his wand and cut off a large section of the braid.

He held it up, “Don’t ever forget, you are mine. You will speak to Albus, remind him that if he does not accept my offer then he will continue to have problems with filling the position.”

He pushed her unceremoniously from the door, “And you watch over my little priceless treasure.”

He opened the door and stormed out into the night tossing the picture to her as he snapped fingers at the two men in black to follow him.

Minerva shut the door, charming it with all the charms she could think of, dropped the parchments to the floor and rushed to the lavatory. Her dinner refused to stay down.

When she could finally compose herself she turned out all the lights and pulled the curtains, then used to floo.

“I had a visitor tonight.”

“I’m  coming, I’ll call Albus from your floo,” said Alastor Moody as he stepped out of the fireplace.