The fact that Daisy Potter was going out with Fred Weasley seemed to interest a great number of people, and I found myself happily impervious to gossip over the next few weeks. After all, it made a very nice change to be talked about because of something that was making me happier than I could remember being for a very long time, rather than because I had been involved in horrific scenes of Dark magic.

Fred seemed to be enjoying the gossip very much as well. We walked around the school together everywhere we went, to class, to the Great Hall, to Quidditch training. And as we walked, Fred would always hold my hand or have an arm slung around me, grinning widely at everyone as he chatted to me, loudly and casually calling me 'baby' and 'princess.' 

We would also often be found making out on the windowsills around the school, in full view of anyone who would walk past, not giving a single fuck as we melted into each other. 

Hanging out with Fred by the lake when the skies were clear and the sun was beaming down on us was now one of my favourite pastimes. It was clearly one of his as well, and we spent hours down there when we could, laughing and smiling and snuggled up close to each other. We always got wolf-whistled at when fellow students walked by us, but we simply laughed at this, and sometimes would find somewhere more private for us to make out. 

"Just you wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend." Fred told me as we walked from our last class of the day down to the Great Hall. "I've got the perfect date planned. I've had it planned for months and months, just in case you ever decided to wise up and get with me." 

"Oh, shut up, you." I slapped his arm lightly, blushing. "I'm with you now, aren't I?" 

"Yeah, and you'll be so glad you are when I treat you like the queen you are, baby girl." Fred winked down at me, and I blushed harder, gazing up at him. 

"Ew, get a room, you guys." Draco pretended to vomit as he walked past. 

"Maybe we will." Fred smirked. 

"Okay, hold that thought, though." I said, doubling back. "I gotta piss." 

I made a beeline for the bathrooms around the corner, but before I could push open the door to the girls', I was grabbed and slammed up against the wall. I turned, opening my mouth in surprise to tell Fred off - weren't we going to go get a room? - when I came face to face with Greg Spieler. 

Knowing my boyfriend was just around the corner, I opened my mouth wider to yell; Spieler saw what I was doing and clamped a hand over my mouth as I made angry muffled noises beneath him. 

"I don't care that you're Weasley's girl now, Potter." Spieler panted, licking his lips. "You owe me. I'm taking what's rightfully mine." 

And Spieler dragged me towards the boys' bathroom. I twisted and writhed in his arms, making him drop me; I took a deep breath and screamed, "FRED!" 

"Shut up, you little whore!" Spieler said furiously, yanking me through the doorway. I screamed Fred's name again desperately, wondering why the fuck no other students were taking this way downstairs. 

Spieler shoved me into the bathroom, making me stumble back against a stall. My heart was pounding as he approached, raising my fists up to my chest in a fighting stance. He laughed wildly at me, pouncing on me; I struggled against him, whining in terror as I noticed how strong he was compared to me; he wrestled me into the stall and forced me down onto my knees, attempting to hold me there as he undid his belt buckle with his other hand in front of my face - 

"SPIELER, YOU SACK OF SHIT!" Fred's voice roared behind him, accompanied by the sound of the bathroom door banging off the wall. "GET OFF HER!" 

Spieler was wrenched from me and slammed up against the wall just as he had done to me. Fred was pinning him there, suddenly swinging punch after punch at his face, and Spieler yelled out, sagging against the wall as blood started spurting from his nose. 

I lay collapsed on the ground as Professor McGonagall, alerted by the sound of Spieler shouting and Fred's heavy punches, came running into the bathroom and pulled a furious Fred off him. Fred received detention, but only one as I explained shakily to her why he was punching Spieler. Spieler got a week's worth, which I was very happy at. 

"You okay, baby?" Fred asked me quietly as we sat in the common room together, me gently dabbing at his bloodied knuckles with murtlap essence. 

I giggled softly. "Are YOU okay, more like? You looked like you were gonna have an aneurism." 

"I'm going to kill him if he ever lays another hand on you again." Fred said determinedly, wincing slightly as I picked up his other hand to dab at. "I seriously -" 

"Daze." Harry appeared by my side suddenly, holding Sirius's mirror. "Sirius and Emily want to talk to you." 

"Okay!" I said brightly, leaping up from my seat. 

Harry nodded at Fred, and Fred nodded back. I sniggered at them both. 

"Are you guys getting along?" 

"Of course we are, why wouldn't we be?" Harry asked defensively. 

"Because you'd kill me if I ever hurt her." Fred said casually. "Or had sex with her. But don't worry about the first one, I'd never do that." 

"You might be too late about the second one, though." I muttered, and both boys turned to stare at me; Harry incredulously and Fred apprehensively. 

"Daisy, sweetheart, it's so good to hear your voice! Let us see you!" Sirius's voice came from the mirror, and I hastily held the mirror up to my face, grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him to the boys' dorms. 

"Hey, Sirius. Hey, Emily. What are you guys up to?" I said as my twin and I climbed the staircase. 

Sirius and Emily were both sitting on Sirius's bed, looking concernedly into the mirror. Emily leaned forward, mouth opening to speak, then sat back, glancing at my godfather helplessly. 

"Daisy..." Sirius jumped in. "We're... we're worried about you." 

"What - huh?" I said. "Hold on -" 

Harry and I hurried into Harry's dorm and scrambled onto his bed. I raised the mirror up to my face again as Sirius sighed. 

"Why?" I said. "I'm doing a lot better - I haven't been drinking -" 

"That's good," Sirius interrupted, "but I know you've had other bad habits. I can recognise when someone is high, pet. I've spent over a decade in Azkaban." 

Harry looked away from me guiltily, and I could tell that he was the one who told Sirius about how I was acting. I didn't blame him, though. He's my brother, of course he's going to be worried about me. 

"Don't worry, Pads." I told him. "I know it's wrong and fucking me up. I'm trying to wean myself off the pills, I've been trying for a month. I'm with Fred now, so I'm hap-" 

"What?" Sirius said sharply. "You're with Fred? One of the Weasley twins, right?" 

I nodded, giggling at his reaction. Emily lay a hand on his arm, smirking slightly at him. Sirius composed his expression into neutrality, and said, mostly calmly, "And is he good to you?" 

"He is, Pads." I said, a little shiver of delight going through me at the memory of Fred's romantic treatment of me. "He's so good to me... I've never felt this way about someone before." 

"Well," Sirius said, taking a deep breath, "well... I'll just have to have a word with him when I next see him. But if you're happy, sweetheart, then I'm happy too." 

I beamed at him. 

"But you better wean yourself off those pills." He told me. "Go to Madam Pomfrey for help once you do, you're going to have a very difficult time once the withdrawal kicks in. I'll come and visit you when it does, it's very painful, I want to be able to support you." 

"Thanks." I said. "I appreciate it." 

"And I appreciate you doing the mature thing and getting yourself off them." Sirius said. "There's a reason they're so addictive. You're the bravest girl I've ever known, it takes a very strong will to help yourself." 

I blushed, looking away from the mirror also. Harry took it from me, speaking into it at last. 

"Emily... Dumbledore said you were his granddaughter!" 

Emily laughed. "Yes... yes, he informed me that he had told you guys. Listen... I think I better be honest and upfront with you guys about who my father is. It's better you hear it from me than someone else." 

Harry and I leaned forward curiously. Emily bit her lip, glancing at Sirius, who grabbed her hand, squeezing it. 

"Daisy, Harry... my father is Voldemort." 

~~~

Harry and I knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office just as a clock within chimed eight. My mind was still whirling at the revelation that Emily was Riddle's daughter, but I can't say I was too surprised after seeing the way him and Juliet were interacting in that memory. 

"Enter." Dumbledore called, but as I put out a hand to push the door, it was wrenched open from inside. There stood Professor Trelawney.

"Aha!" She cried, pointing dramatically at me and Harry as she blinked at us through her magnifying spectacles. "So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"

"My dear Sybill," said Dumbledore in a slightly exasperated voice, "there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Daisy and Harry do have an appointment, and I really don't think there is any more to be said -" 

"Very well." Professor Trelawney said in a deeply wounded voice. "If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it... perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated..."

She pushed past us and disappeared down the spiral staircase; we heard her stumble halfway down, and I guessed that she had tripped over one of her trailing shawls.

"Please close the door and sit down, twins." Dumbledore said, sounding rather tired.

We obeyed and I noticed as we took our usual seats in front of Dumbledore's desk that the Pensieve lay between us once more, as did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memory.

"Professor Trelawney still isn't happy Firenze is teaching, then?" Harry asked.

"No." Dumbledore said. "Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject myself. I cannot ask Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an outcast, nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in outside the castle. She does not know - and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her - that she made the prophecy about Daisy and Voldemort, you see."

Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, then said, "But never mind my staffing problems. Let us continue with our story where we left off. I remind you both about your task to retrieve the memory from Professor Slughorn, preferably before our next meeting. But now, Daisy, Harry," said Dumbledore, "now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts. Juliet..." 

"Sir, Emily told us." I said quickly. "We know who her father is." 

"Very well." Dumbledore said, clasping his hands together on the desk. "Juliet has had a deeply troubled life, and drifted in and out of Riddle's. In their early thirties, they conceived a child, whom you now know is Emily. And now, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you." Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the Pensieve. "I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely. 

"I hope you two are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these." He said. "This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left Hogwarts.

"He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes."

"At Borgin and Burkes?" I repeated, stunned.

"At Borgin and Burkes." Dumbledore repeated calmly. "I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time... as one of the few in whom the then Headmaster confided - but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher."

"He wanted to stay here? Why?" Harry asked, amazed.

"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet." Dumbledore said. "Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person, except perhaps Juliet. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home. 

"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap.

"And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin to build himself an army."

"But he didn't get the job, sir?" I said. 

"No, he did not. Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to teach."

"How did you feel about that, sir?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Deeply uneasy." Dumbledore said. "I had advised Armando against the appointment - I did not give the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty. But I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school, and especially not in a position of power."

"Which job did he want, sir? What subject did he want to teach?"

Somehow, I knew the answer even before Dumbledore gave it.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years.

"So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specialises, as you know, Daisy, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."

"I'll bet he was." I said, unable to contain myself.

"Well, quite." Dumbledore said with a faint smile. "And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."

Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork flew out, and he tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve, saying as he did so, "After you, twins."

Harry and I got to our feet and bent once more over the rippling silver contents of the stone basin until our faces touched them. I tumbled through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. A tinkling doorbell rang and her and a little house-elf beside her jumped.

"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" Hepzibah cried and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without knocking over at least a dozen things. 

The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man I had no difficulty whatsoever in recognizing as Riddle. He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever. 

Godric, it's not fair. Why did he have to look like that but be so evil? SO not fair to my heart that he was so easy on the eyes, but also a literal murderer and someone who drugged me and took advantage of me. 

Riddle picked his way through the cramped room with an air that showed he had visited many times before and bowed low over Hepzibah's fat little hand, brushing it with his lips.

"I brought you flowers." He said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" Old Hepzibah squealed, though I noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom... sit down, sit down... where's Hokey... ah..."

The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow.

"Help yourself, Tom." Hepzibah said. "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times..."

Riddle smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" She asked, batting her lashes.

"Mr Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armour." Riddle said. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair -" 

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" Hepzibah pouted. 

"I am ordered here because of them." Riddle said quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr Burke wishes me to inquire -" 

"Oh, Mr Burke, phooey!" Hepzibah said, waving a little hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me." Riddle said quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

"I had Hokey bring it out for me... Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr Riddle our finest treasure... In fact, bring both, while you're at it..."

"Here, madam." The house-elf squeaked, and I saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if of their own volition, though I knew the tiny elf was holding them over her head as she wended her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.

"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom... oh, if my family knew I was showing you... They can't wait to get their hands on this!"

She opened the lid. I edged forward a little to get a better view and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.

"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!" Hepzibah whispered, and Riddle stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. I thought I saw a red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Riddle's handsome features.

"A badger." Riddle murmured, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was...?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" Hepzibah said, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here..."

She hooked the cup back off Riddle's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Riddle's face as the cup was taken away.

"Now then," Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap, "I think you'll like this even more, Tom." She whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see... of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone..."

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.

Riddle reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.

"Slytherin's mark." He said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.

"That's right!" Hepzibah said, apparently delighted at the sight of Riddle gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value -" 

There was no mistaking it this time: Riddle's eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and I saw his knuckles whiten on the locket's chain.

"- I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are... pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe..."

She reached out to take the locket back. For a moment, I thought Riddle was not going to let go of it, but then it had slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"

She looked him full in the face and for the first time, I saw her foolish smile falter.

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes." Riddle said quietly. "Yes, I'm very well..."

"I thought - but a trick of the light, I suppose -" Hepzibah said, looking unnerved, and I guessed that she too had seen the momentary red gleam in Voldemort's eyes. 

"Time to leave, twins." Dumbledore said quietly, grasped us once again above the elbow, and together we rose up through oblivion and back to Dumbledore's office.

"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene." Dumbledore said, resuming his seat and indicating that we should do the same. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident."

"No fucking way!" I said angrily.

"I see we are of one mind." Dumbledore said. "Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death - yes, Hokey had her memory altered and confessed. Hepzibah's family also soon realized that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "if you don't mind, Daisy, Harry, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed another murder; whether it was his first since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. He wanted the two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted, old woman showed him. Just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his Uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket. 

"And now for the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory for us. Ten years separates Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing..."

Harry and I got to our feet once more as Dumbledore emptied the last memory into the Pensieve.

"Whose memory is it?" Harry asked.

"Mine." Dumbledore said. 

And we dived after Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office we had just left. There was Fawkes slumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore, who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing beside me, though both hands were whole and undamaged and his face was, perhaps, a little less lined. The one difference between the present-day office and this one was that it was snowing in the past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up on the outside ledge.

The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, moments after our arrival, there was a knock on the door and he said, "Enter."

I let out a hastily stifled gasp. Voldemort had entered the room. It was as though his features had been blurred; there was a permanent red gleam in his eyes now, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He was still handsome, though it was drastically less so due to the strange blurriness around certain parts of his face and the apparent extreme weight-loss. He was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment.

"Good evening, Tom." Dumbledore said easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you." Voldemort said, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured - the very seat, by the looks of it, that I had just vacated in the present. "I heard that you had become Headmaster." He said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve." Dumbledore said, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome." Voldemort said. "I have come a long way."

Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensieve, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind his desk.

"So, Tom... to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Voldemort did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine.

"They do not call me 'Tom' anymore." He said. "These days, I am known as -" 

"I know what you are known as." Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings." 

"Damn." I muttered, and Harry grinned appreciatively. 

Dumbledore raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, I felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and I could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long." Voldemort said after a short pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."

"I see it still." Voldemort said. "I merely wondered why you - who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister -" 

"Three times at the last count, actually." Dumbledore said. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.

"I have returned," He said, after a little while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected... but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us." He said quietly. "Rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" Dumbledore asked delicately.

"Certainly." Voldemort said, and his eyes seemed to burn red. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed -"

"Of some kinds of magic." Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain... forgive me... woefully ignorant."

For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage. I blinked, turning to Harry. There was an unpleasant sensation in my chest, and I wasn't sure if I was attracted to the little smirk on Voldemort's face, or if I was terrified by it. 

It was maybe a bit of both. 

"The old argument." Voldemort said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places." Dumbledore suggested.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" Voldemort said. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves - or so rumour has it - the Death Eaters?"

I could tell that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know this name; I saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again and his nostrils flare.

"My friends," He said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends." Dumbledore said. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken." Voldemort said.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them - Nott, Rosier, Mulver, Dolohov - awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen." Dumbledore said lightly. "Now, Tom..."

Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.

"... Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

Voldemort sneered.

"If you do not want to give me a job -" 

"Of course I don't." Dumbledore said. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage.

"This is your final word?"

"It is." Dumbledore said, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing." Dumbledore said, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could..."

For a second, I was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning: I was sure that Voldemort's hand had twitched toward his pocket and his wand; but then the moment had passed, Voldemort had turned away, the door was closing, and he was gone. 

~~~ 

Back in the common room, I was relaxing in an armchair with Kylie, Ginny, Hermione, and Terry while the twins were going from group of friends to group of friends, taking notes on a clipboard while they asked the students questions about what they were looking for in a joke shop. 

"And then he was literally just like, 'Wow. Okay. See you next week, then.' Like, what?" Terry was saying, throwing his hands up into the air. "I'm so confused, can someone explain this to me?" 

"Ugh, hold on." Ginny said, getting up with an anguished look on her face. "I have to go change my pad." 

Kylie burst out laughing as Ginny ran towards the girls' dorms, throwing a rude hand gesture back to the cackling girl. But I sat there, my heart stopping as I remembered: where was MY period? It was well over two weeks late by now. 

"Um, Terry..." I mumbled to him as he sagged back in his armchair, turning with raised eyebrows towards me. "Can I... talk to you in private?" 

"Uh, sure? Hey, are you okay, what's the matter?" Terry asked me gently as I stood up, taking his hand and pulling him towards the boys' dorms. I didn't answer until we'd reached the staircase, letting the door swing shut behind us. 

"Terry, I'm late." I said immediately. Terry watched me as I fumbled with the bottom of my school cardigan, looking down at my feet. "Really late." 

"Shit." Terry said. "Hey, look at me, Daisy." 

I looked up at him. He was frowning slightly, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

"Everything's going to be okay. Let's actually find out if it's what you think it is, before we go about panicking, okay?" 

"Okay." I said, my voice wobbly. Terry peered closer. 

"If it is what you think... would you WANT to get rid of it...?" He said shrewdly. "Riddle's was different, of course... but Fred's the love of your life." 

"I - I don't know." I whispered. "I dunno. Let's just - do we have to go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Nah, the benefit of being besties with a Ravenclaw is that we know everything." Terry said with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes. "Come into the bathroom, I know this spell where if you pee on a bit of parchment, it turns blue if you're positive." 

And so I went into a stall in the senior boys' bathroom, peed on the parchment that Terry had deep in one of his robe pockets, and waited while he waved his wand over the paper, watching him anxiously. 

At last he turned, his face apprehensive. 

"Terry...?" I said, my voice shaking. 

Terry held it out. The parchment was blue. I felt my stomach sink. 

"Daisy... you're pregnant."