•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"All right, we've been practicing hard, so don't get nervous. Let's do good like we always do. Go, badgers!" A series of cheers came from the Hufflepuff team as they went out and mounted their brooms, meeting the cheering audience. Deanna looked around and saw that Hermione was wearing a yellow and red jumper, making her grin. She waved at her friends from Slytherin before stopping in front of Harry.

"Captains!" Madame Hooch shouted, and Harry and Deanna shook hands.

"Good luck, badger."

"Same to you, lion." The two of them chuckled before going back to their places, and when the whistle blew, Deanna soared up into the air on her Oakshaft, syncing immediately with Noah.

"And Ginny Weasley takes the Quaffle from Macaroni?"

"It's Macavoy!" Minerva scolded the commentator, making the crowd laugh. Deanna peeked and grinned when she saw that it was Luna Lovegood, commentating the match, and Minerva was looking more stressed than she had ever been.

"Yes, yes. Macaroni scores! 10 points to Hufflepuff and Harry Potter's now having an argument with his Keeper," said Luna serenely. "I don't think that'll help him find the Snitch, but maybe it's a clever ruse."

At the sound of the whistle, Deanna signaled to Noah that it was their time to fly and they dove down in between the Beaters of Gryffindor, taking the Bludgers into their control.

"Sorry, Gin!" Deanna shouted before aiming the Bludger at her, and striking her in the stomach. The Quaffle was picked up by Ernie who scored once more.

"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" barked Minerva into Luna's megaphone.

"Is it, already?" said Luna vaguely. "Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."

Deanna looked around, and her eyes widened when she saw Harry was hit in the head by a Bludger. She immediately flew to him, catching him before he hit the ground. Madame Hooch blew the whistle, and Deanna slowly put Harry down, wincing at the state of his head as the Quidditch players and some of the staff crowded around them.

"He needs to go to the Hospital Wing, dear me." Madame Hooch sighed and went to the stands for Madame Pomfrey.

"Well, that hit him." Someone commented behind them, and Deanna growled when she saw it was Cormac McLaggen. She immediately stood up and started her way towards him, but her friends quickly held her back.

"You git," said Deanna angrily. "The next time we have a match, you better not be on the team or you'll be sorry you ever tried out."

"What did you say?" Cormac glared back at her, now advancing towards Deanna. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team held him back, not wanting to get any of their members disqualified.

"Enough!" Madame Hooch yelled as they brought Harry out of the pitch. "The match will resume now."

"But Madame Hooch!" Deanna protested. "They don't have their Captain and Seeker, how are they supposed to play?"

"Well, they have substitute players, don't they?" Madame Hooch shook her head and got back on her broom. "Back to your places after a 5 minute break. Unless both teams do not want to go to the finals."

Deanna frowned and sighed, turning to the Gryffindor team. "I'm so sorry. We shouldn't be playing right now."

"It's fine, Dee." Ginny smiled at her before lowering her voice to a whisper. "Just get McLaggen for us, will you?"

Deanna smirked mischievously at her. "It would be my pleasure."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Ron, I'm glad you're back." Deanna gave him a tight hug as he came towards her with Harry.

"I'm glad too, Dee." Ron chuckled before whispering to her. "Thank you for everything... With me and Eleanor. I don't know what happened, but we became friends again."

"You don't have to thank me. It was all you." Deanna winked at him and laughed when she saw him getting confused. Deanna turned to Harry and she was about to open her mouth when Harry held a hand up.

"Don't apologize." Harry smiled at her warmly. "It's all right, and thanks for beating McLaggen for me. Just be ready for the finals and wait for us, yeah?"

"That we will, and about McLaggen? I'd do it anytime." Deanna chuckled and ruffled his hair affectionately. She smiled softly at the girl who was busy reading a book on the bench. She made her way to Hermione silently and hugged her from behind. "Is the book interesting?"

"Yeah, it is." Hermione answered distractedly, turning around for a moment to place a kiss on Deanna's cheek. "It's about Potions.... Antidotes."

"Is it more interesting than me?"

Hermione finally stopped reading, and she smiled softly at Deanna, caressing the smaller girl's cheek. "No book would ever beat the interest I have in you."

Hiding her blush, Deanna buried her face in Hermione's neck and mumbled. "Cheesy lion."

"Your cheesy lion." Hermione giggled at her embarrassed reaction and put down the book, exchanging words about how their days went and it hit Hermione so suddenly just how much she actually loved Deanna. She wouldn't put down her favorite book even for her parents, but for Deanna, she would do everything.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Deanna and Hermione stopped talking and saw that it was Harry. "Hate to break the moment between you two, but Deanna, we're going to be late."

Deanna nodded and kissed Hermione on the cheek. "See you tomorrow."

"See you, darling." Hermione gave her hand one last squeeze before letting her go with Harry.

Ron sat down beside Hermione with a grin. "So it's not Daredevil Deanna anymore, but Darling Deanna?"

"Shut up." Hermione shoved him off the bench while smiling. She was the Daredevil Deanna to everyone, but only to Hermione was she Darling Deanna, and Hermione would do everything for that to never change.

Harry and Deanna had finally arrived at Dumbledore's office, the gargoyles immediately moving at Deanna's presence. Deanna knocked on the door just as a clock from inside chimed eight.

"Enter," called Dumbledore. Deanna was about to open it when someone had beat her to it.

Professor Trelawney pointed at the two students, blinking at them. "Aha! 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 Deanna and Harry do have an appointment, and I really don't think there is any more to be said —"

"Very well," said Professor Trelawney, 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 them and disappeared down the staircase, stumbling on her way.

"Please close the door and sit down, love, Harry," said Dumbledore, sounding rather tired, the Pensieve in between them with two crystal bottles of memories beside it.

"Are you alright, Pops?" Deanna asked worriedly while she and Harry sat down.

"Yes, little phoenix. Don't worry." Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at her.

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

"No," said Dumbledore, "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 you and Voldemort, you see."

Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, then said, "But never mind my staffing problems. We have much more important matters to discuss. Firstly, Harry — have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?"

"Ah," said Harry after a moment's hesitation. "Well, I asked Professor Slughorn about it at the end of Potions, sir, but, er, he wouldn't give it to me."

There was a little silence.

"I see," said Dumbledore eventually, staring Harry down with his eyes. "And you feel that you have exerted your very best efforts in this matter, do you? That you have exercised all of your considerable ingenuity? That you have left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your quest to retrieve the memory?"

Harry looked at Deanna for support, wanting to get out of the awkward situation. "Well..."

"Pops." Deanna said warningly. Dumbledore just shook his head, still staring at Harry.

"Professor... the day Ron swallowed love potion by mistake I took him to Professor Slughorn. I thought maybe if I got Professor Slughorn in a good enough mood —"

"And did that work?"

"Well, no, sir, because Ron got poisoned —"

"— which, naturally, made you forget all about trying to retrieve the memory; I would have expected nothing else, while your best friend was in danger. Once it became clear that Mr. Weasley was going to make a full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you returned to the task I set you. I thought I made it clear to you how very important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time without it."

Deanna saw Harry gulp and she felt bad for him, knowing that he did try his best that day.

"Sir," Harry said, a little desperately, "it isn't that I wasn't bothered or anything, I've just had other — other things..."

"Other things on your mind," Dumbledore finished the sentence for him. "I see."

And there was silence once more...

"Let me help him, Pops." Deanna suddenly said. "Let me help him, and we'll get the memory."

Dumbledore turned his stare to Deanna this time, a slight frown on his face. "Deanna –"

"Harry tried his best, and he's sorry." Deanna spoke in the same firm tone she used whenever she wanted to make people know there was no room for arguments. "We'll do what we can."

The two Dumbledores sat there, staring at each other, not one wanting to give in. Harry sat there in the tense atmosphere between father and daughter. He did not know what to do, but he definitely needed Deanna's help.

"Fine." Dumbledore let out a sigh though a small smile made its way onto his face when he saw how cheerful Deanna and Harry had become. "May I hope then that you two will give this matter higher priority from now on? There will be little point in our meeting after tonight unless we have that memory."

"We'll do it, sir, we'll get it from him," Harry said earnestly.

"You can count on us, Pops." Deanna smiled at him.

Harry squeezed Deanna's hand. "Thank you." Deanna squeezed his hand back and smiled.

"Then we shall say no more about it just now," said Dumbledore more kindly, "but continue with our story where we left off. You remember where that was?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry quickly. "Voldemort killed his father and his grandparents and made it look as though his Uncle Morfin did it. Then he went back to Hogwarts and he asked... he asked Professor Slughorn about Horcruxes," he mumbled shamefacedly.

"Very good," said Dumbledore. "Now, you will remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"

"Yes, sir." Harry said while Deanna nodded.

"Thus far, as I hope you agree, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Voldemort did until the age of seventeen?"

The two nodded again.

"But now," 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. However, 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."

Dumbledore raised one bottle, examining it. "I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two," 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?" Deanna said, a bit confused.

"At Borgin and Burkes," repeated Dumbledore 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 — I was 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?" asked Harry, more amazed still.

"What do you think, love?" Dumbledore asked Deanna all of a sudden.

"Hmmm..." Deanna pursed her lips in thought before speaking. "It was the first place he ever felt he had belonged?"

"That's right." Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. "He had confided no reason to Professor Dippet yet he had several. He was attached to this school as he had been to you, love. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest."

"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 pending 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, Pops?"

"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?"

"Deeply uneasy," said Dumbledore. "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?"

"Defense 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 specializes, as you know 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."

"That he was." Deanna grumbled under her breath.

"Well, quite," said Dumbledore, 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 tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve. "After you, love, Harry." Deanna bent over until her face touched the silver liquid, and after tumbling through darkness, she landed in front of a fat and old lady wearing a ginger wig and elegant robes. Hepzibah was dabbing rouge onto her scarlet cheeks while the house-elf named Hokey laced her feet into tight satin slippers.

"Hurry up, Hokey!" said Hepzibah imperiously. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"

"How do I look?" Hepzibah started turning her head while looking at herself in the mirror.

"Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey. Well, the dress did look lovely, and her make-up was just fine? The doorbell rang, making both mistress and elf jump.

"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" cried Hepzibah and Hokey scurried out of the room which was filled with too many objects one move could make you knock everything down. The room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.

Hokey returned after a few minutes followed by none other than Tom Riddle himself in a black suit. He had longer hair and hollowed cheeks, but he still looked as handsome as ever. He made his way through the cramped room and brushed his lips against Hepzibah's hand.

"I brought you flowers," Tom said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere. Deanna rolled her eyes at that. He really knew how to charm people.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah though she put the bouquet in an empty vase he had ready. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom... Sit down, sit down... Where's Hokey? Ah..." Hokey came in and set down a tray of little cakes on the table.

"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah, "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..."

Tom smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

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

"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," said Tom. "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!" pouted Hepzibah.

"I am ordered here because of them," said Tom 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!" said Hepzibah, 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," said Tom 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," squeaked Hokey, bringing two leather boxes to them.

"Now," said Hepzibah happily, "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, and there was 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!" whispered Hepzibah, and Tom stretched out a hand, lifting the cup by one handle. Deanna's eyes widened when she noticed a red gleam in his eyes, a greedy look on his face while Hepzibah was only staring at Tom's face.

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

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward and pinching his 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..."

Hepzibah took back the cup and restored it to its back, not seeing how Voldemort had frowned.

"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey." Hokey took away the boxed cup and the old lady turned her attention to the other box.

"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..."

Hepzibah opened the box, and there lay a heavy golden locket. Without invitation, Tom reached out for the locket, staring intensely at it as the light shone on the serpentine S. "Slytherin's mark."

"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted. "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 —"

Tom's eyes flashed scarlet once more and his fists clenched 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..." Hepzibah reached out for the locket, and Tom seemed like he did not want to let go, but soon, he let it fall back in its red velvet cushion.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!" Her smile faltered slightly when she looked him in the eyes. "Are you all right, dear?"

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

"I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose —" said Hepzibah, looking unnerved. Deanna knew then that she saw it. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again... The usual enchantments..."

"Time to leave, love, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, as Hokey walked away, Dumbledore grasped their arms and they rose up together back to Dumbledore's office.

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

"No way!" said Harry angrily.

"Damned Ministry." Deanna muttered under her breath.

"I see we are of one mind," said Dumbledore. "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 —"

"Hokey confessed?" Harry supplied.

"She remembered putting something in her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison," said Dumbledore. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused —"

"He modified her memory. Just like what he did with Morfin."

"Indeed, love, that is my conclusion too," said Dumbledore. "And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey —"

"— because she was a house-elf," said Harry.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink, and nobody at the Ministry bothered to inquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over — but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket.

"By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had 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 two don't mind, 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."

"But," said Harry, frowning. "It seems mad."

"Not to him." Deanna shook her head, staring at the Pensieve. "He risked and gave up everything for power. He has been doing that since the day he killed Myrtle."

"I hope you will understand in due course exactly what those objects meant to him, but you must admit that it is not difficult to imagine that he saw the locket, at least, as rightfully his."

"The locket maybe," said Harry, "but why take the cup as well?"

"A speculation of mine is his love for Deanna, but also, it had belonged to another of Hogwarts's founders," said Dumbledore. "I think he still felt a great pull toward the school and that he could not resist an object so steeped in Hogwarts history. There were other reasons, I think... I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you in due course.

"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..."

Deanna got to her feet, following Harry and Dumbledore to the Pensieve. "Whose memory is that, Pops?"

"Mine," said Dumbledore, and the three of them dived into the silver liquid, landing in the Headmaster's office. There was her father behind the desk, looking a little younger, and Fawkes was slumbering happily on his perch. The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting, and after a few moments, there was finally a knock on the door.

"Enter."

Deanna's eyes widened at who came through the door while Harry gasped. The young and handsome Tom Riddle was gone. His features had become waxy and distorted, and his eyes were completely bloody. His pale face stood out even more due to his dark cloak.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore without a hint of surprise. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Voldemort in a high and cold voice, resembling the voice he had now, sitting at the seat Deanna had sat at previously. "I heard that you had become headmaster. A worthy choice."

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

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

Dumbledore walked over to the cabinet, taking out goblets of wine for him and Voldemort before returning to his 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. These days, I am known as —"

"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore, 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."

Dumbledore raised his glass to Voldemort who remained expressionless, but Deanna knew that the atmosphere had changed. Dumbledore wasn't giving in to Voldemort and vice versa.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Voldemort 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," said Voldemort. "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," said Dumbledore. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Voldemort took another sip of his wine, and Dumbledore simply smiled, waiting for Voldemort to talk first.

"I have returned," Voldemort 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 looked at him over the top of his goblet before speaking quietly. "Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us. Rumors 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?" asked Dumbledore delicately.

"Certainly," said Voldemort, 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." Voldemort smiled maliciously. "The old argument. 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," suggested Dumbledore.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "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 rumor has it — the Death Eaters?"

Voldemort's eyes flashed red at that, not expecting that sudden attack. "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," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken," said Voldemort.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, 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."

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly. "Now, Tom..." Deanna smiled slightly at that. Of course, he wasn't just friends with the barman.

Dumbledore set down his glass and linked his fingers. "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," said Dumbledore. "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 in a rage. "This is your final word?"

"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.

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

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

Voldemort's hand started moving toward his wand, his eyes redder than ever.

"Deanna wouldn't have wanted you to become like this." Dumbledore's words made him stop, and Voldemort clenched his fists bringing them away from his wand.

"What do you know?"

"I know she loved you, and all she wanted was to be happy with you." Dumbledore spoke gently. "However, the man you are now is not the man she loved."

Voldemort looked like he wanted to curse Dumbledore in that moment, but he simply turned around and went out of the Headmaster's office, slamming the door. Deanna felt Dumbledore's arm around her and they were back in the present.

"Why did he come back, Pops? Why?" Deanna asked, staring at Dumbledore in confusion and frustration. She had already gotten used to Voldemort's violent and cunning nature, but she still had questions.

"I have ideas," said Dumbledore, "but no more than that."

"What ideas, sir?"

"I shall tell you two, when you have retrieved that memory from Professor Slughorn," said Dumbledore. "When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear... to both of us."

Deanna frowned at Dumbledore even as he had gone ton the door and opened it for Harry. "He was after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, right?"

"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job," said Dumbledore. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort."

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