Note: This takes place between the 6th and 7th volumes of Harry Potter.

Chapter One

He's probably dead anyway. It seems to me to be a fool's errand. But it couldn't be. The professor wouldn't have asked me to do this if he didn't have faith in its success. But he didn't live to see what dark times we find ourselves in now. Perhaps he would change his mind if he only knew what is happening in the world today. But he trusted me with this. I cannot fail him now.

Those were the thoughts that ran through Alastair's head unceasingly. His resolve only weakened with the horrid rain that fell down on the wet streets of Aberdeen. As he trudged across the cobblestone pathways, he looked for the house numbered 212. His destination rested at the very end of the road. A small, tilted house settled in next to an enormous cliff that fell into the bay. Alastair only hesitated for a moment before giving a firm pound to the door.

A few moments passed, and then the small door opened. A short, pale man answered the door. He couldn't have been more than twenty years old.

"Can I help you?" he said, eyes solid and unmoving.

"My name is Alastair Moody, I'm an old friend of Robert's. Is he here?" Alastair possessed a threatening demeanor, and that would be a disadvantage to getting inside the house.

"Mr. Robert Martin has many old friends, many of which he has no interest in seeing again." The man's hand moved out of sight, probably making a grab for his wand.

"I understand his predicament. However, I am a dear friend to Albus Dumbledore, and I carry a message from him that is crucial for Robert to hear."

"Albus Dumbledore is dead. And how do I know you are not an imposter?"

"You and I both know that Voldemort and his followers feel nothing but fear for Robert. I know what he has done, and I wish to speak with him. You must let me see him."

The man paused for a moment. After a brief sigh, he stepped aside to let Alastair into the little house. Ahead was a humble chamber comprised of a small kitchen and a couch adjacent to a television set.

There must be something more to this, Alastair thought to himself. Robert is one of the wealthiest men I have ever known.

"Mr. Martin with be right with you," the man said before disappearing behind a small black door hidden in the corner of the room.

After a few long moments, the door creaked open and the man returned. "If you would follow me, sir."

Alastair was led down a precarious flight of stairs and into a brilliantly lit room that was far bigger than the one upstairs.

"I knew you couldn't possibly live in a shack like that, Bobby," Alastair chortled, hoping to extinguish the edge.

"Aye, my youth may have left me but my stubborn pride still remains," Robert replied. He was a tall wizard, with wavy blonde hair. His posture and mannerisms shed the light that he was in no fashion old at all. He looked younger than Alastair himself, despite the impossibility.

Robert stepped forward and gave Alastair a brief, firm handshake.

"I know why you're here Alastair," Robert said. "You think that because Professor Dumbeldore is dead, you have leverage in getting me to join his army. You're here on his agenda, no doubt?"

"You're deductive powers have always baffled me, Bobby," Alastiar replied, shaking his head while taking a seat in a cushioned armchair.

"Don't try to flatter me," Robert retorted, attending to the heating tea. "As an old feeble has-been, I've developed quite the immunity."

"I'd give my other eye to see the day that Robert Martin becomes feeble," Alastair chuckled.

Robert stood with his back turned. "You know I can't join you, Alastair."

"But things have changed, Bobby. Things are worse than ever before!"

"This isn't my fight. That much hasn't changed. I'd be a damn fool to get myself caught up in Tom's mess again. And neither he nor I want that to happen again."

"Bobby, I understand that you have lost everything. But it was Voldemort who took it from you!
Why not fight back? Why not show him what happens when you attack Robert Martin?"

"You're quite cunning, Alastair, still trying to play on my pride. But the truth is... you don't know anything. You don't know the truth behind me and Tom. No one was closer to him than I was. You don't know what it feels like to watch someone you loved dearly become hollow with murder and hate."

Robert turned around. He spoke softer, "He didn't kill my girls. I've done enough to know that much."

"Bobby, don't be a bleeding fool. Of course he killed your girls! If it wasn't for Voldemort, your wife and daughter would still be alive!"

Robert laughed, silently, to himself. "You just don't understand, Alastair. I can't kill him. I couldn't do it before, and I can't do it now. No one can, unless..." He trailed off, his eyes gave a dark flash across the room.

"Unless what, Robert?" Alastair sat forward, listening with raw intent.

Robert chuckled. "This is what you came for, isn't it?" The tea whistled and Robert poured them each a cup. He sat down and took a sip. After a long silence of staring at the fire, he turned back to Alastair.

"Tom is protected by dark magic," Robert said, gravely. "Of all the opportunities I had to kill him, I chose the one that was too late."

"What the devil do you mean?" Alastair was still leaning forward.

Robert sighed. "Perhaps you wouldn't properly understand if I were to tell you here."

"I would properly understand if you gave me a long, proper explanation."

"You don't quite understand my meaning. You see Alastair, Tom and I go back a long time. We were the best of friends once. A story like ours isn't one that can be told. I have to show you."

"And I suppose you have a way of showing me, then?"

"I do," Robert said, a small hint of a smile growing on his lips. "Maybe then you'll understand why I have no interest in joining Dumbledore's army... why I don't wish to fight Tom anymore."

"Well, let's have it then!" Alastair felt a warm glow of achievement. Perhaps this was what Dumbledore wanted him to see.

Robert hesitated for a moment, and then got up and left the room. Alastair sat, waiting in the chair for a long time before he returned. He was holding a clear flask with a red cork squeezed in the neck.

"What is that?" Alastair asked, slightly confused.

Robert didn't reply. Instead he took out his wand, touched it to his forehead and drew out a long, silver line. The silvery substance slipped and almost filled the entire flask to the brim. Robert corked it and handed it over to Alastair.

"That's everything you'll ever need to know, right there. Every truth and every lie about Tom Marvolo Riddle are contained in that little bottle you have there."

"Is this it, then?" Alastair asked, a little miffed. "A few childhood memories are supposed to help us defeat one of the greatest wizards we've ever come to know?"

"You might find a little bit more than a few childhood memories in there, Alastair. That's all I have to offer. I think our business here is concluded."

Alastair sat for a moment in quiet frustration before getting up and making his way for the door. Before he left the house, Robert called after him.

"Alastair!"

He turned around.

"Best look at that sooner than later, friend. There isn't time to waste if you really want to beat Tom."

Alastair nodded in thanks and then limped out of the house before disappearing from the drenched streets of Aberdeen with a quiet pop!