This was in my brain and now it's on the internet. Oops? To all the people who have favorited me and my stories despite my long absence… I cannot adequately express my sincerest appreciation. Y'all rock my world.

"Professor?" Hermione poked her head into the headmaster's office. "I found something… Harry and Ron and I were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

"Come in then," McGonagall said, conjouring three hard-backed wooden chairs for them to sit on. "What did you find?"

Hermione nudged Harry forward. "Well.." Harry looked uneasy as he presented her with a small sheaf of papers. "We found this when we went through the Gaunt house with the aurors.. it doesn't have any enchantments on it or anything, don't worry."

"So why are you giving this to me, Potter?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "Well… it's got your name on it, Professor."

McGonagall turned slightly pink. "So it does."

Ron winced. "Kingsley didn't read it or anything, and neither did the other aurors, but… I may have caught a line here or there.."

She stood and began to pace behind her desk. "I see."

"Did you know?" Hermione asked, voice small. "About… Lord Voldemort, when you—"

McGonagall turned, regarding the three carefully. "Did I know what? That I knew the most dangerous wizard Great Britain –the world, really- would ever see? No, I think it took me some time to learn that."

Harry and Ron traded looks. "No, Professor… she means more like did you know what he was doing, at the time you were….writing to him?"

McGonagall looked sternly at her former students. "If you want to know about Lord Voldemort when he was still Tom Riddle, you can ask me, Potter."

"Do you remember when you first met him?" Hermione said. "Or how you first met him?"

McGonagall frowned. "Yes… I imagine it was in a prefect meeting during my sixth year, in '41. But that was when he first became real to me." She paused. "Yes," she said, more to herself than to the three. "I remember the day, and the class…"

September 2, 1942

The skies were no longer overcast, and as she hurried along the cobbled path up to the castle from the greenhouses Minerva McGonagall felt reluctant to go back inside. The east wing of the castle was decidedly gloomier than the other areas, with high-traffic hallways and endless students milling about. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been moved to the east wing days before the start of the term, resulting in minor upheaval of the existing classroom system. Now, with a gloomy classroom and a boring lecture to look forward to, Minerva slowed her brisk stride and ambled through the swarm of sixth years leaving the room. The dullness of the subject seemed to have permeated the entire classroom, and she waved to Alastor with a wry smile on her face. "May I sit?"

"Go for it," he said, shrugging. "You're early today."

"Hardly, there's five minutes to the bell."

"Yes, and normally you walk through the doors just as the bell is ringing."

"Hush." Minerva glanced behind her. "Why are we in the second row?"

"Because this is where I wanted to sit?"

"I can't be expected to sit front and center on a lecture day, Alastor—"

He scoffed. "Please. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't pay the utmost attention in class. Why so many complaints about defense today?"

"We're doing hex laws." She raised an eyebrow in response to his blank stare. "It's in the syllabus." Alastor showed no inkling of recognition. "Hopeless," she muttered.

"Am I the only one that finds it odd that they allow sixth years in this class?" he asked, turning around.

"Probably not," Minerva said, "though I can't say I agree with you. Margot Droope is pretty impressive in dueling club, so I'm not surprised she tested out of the O.W.L. levels—" She paused. "Alastor, what year is Tom Riddle again?"

"A sixth year?"

"He's not in ours?"

"Pretty sure he isn't, why?"

"He's an ass." Minerva frowned, watching him as he hurried in as the bell rang, waving to a friend in the back and hurrying to a seat. "Most sanctimonious prick I've ever interacted with."

"Prefect meeting?"

"General council, yes." She twisted in her seat, her hair swinging behind her in its ponytail. "He certainly never acted like a new member at the first meeting last year…"

"Has he shown insubordination despite your badge?" Alastor rolled his eyes.

"Not exactly," she said slowly. "It's just…it's hard to tell when he likes a person or not, you know? I don't know if he takes my authority seriously… he does what he's told but always makes these little asides and I can never tell if he's mocking me or trying to be funny."

"Do the others think it's funny?"

Minerva frowned. "Usually?"

"Then he's probably just trying to be funny, and you hate his cult of personality."

Minerva continued to frown as she regarded Tom, pulling out a notebook from his book bag and laughing as he said something to Antonin Dolohov. "Probably." As if he could sense that he was being watched, he turned in her direction and their eyes met from across the room. He frowned for a moment, and she raised her eyebrows reflexively before turning back to face the front, her cheeks pink.

"Got caught staring?" Alastor asked pointedly without bothering to look up from his parchment.

"Maybe."

"I think your only problem with him is that he got Hagrid expelled," he said in a whisper as Merrythought droned on about the fourth law. "I've seen you talk to him, you two are perfectly civil."

"He's just so…." Minerva trailed off as she scribbled a note down. "He's impossible to have a proper conversation with."

"So you want to have conversations with him?"

"That is not what I said."

Alastor grinned. "If you say so. You always do like a challenge.."

Minerva looked at him sharply. "I'm trying to take notes."

"You were bitching about the lecture being bloody boring not ten minutes ago." He laughed when she shoved him.

The east wing had a sub-optimal floor plan, and Minerva tapped her foot in annoyance as the first row of students flooded the doorway, effectively blocking her exit. She glanced back at Alastor, but he appeared preoccupied with one of his friends she wasn't well acquainted with. "Could this be any slower?" she muttered.

"It can always be slower," a voice said, and she turned.

"Hello there," she said evenly. "Good break?"

"I suppose there are better things to complain about," Tom Riddle said with a shrug. "You?"

"I just found out you were a year below me," she said. "Who knew?"

"The rest of the school, for a start," he said. "Semester off to a good start, then?"

"There are better things to complain about," she said, thinking back to the hellish morning of double potions and double arithmancy. Her complexion showed her embarrassment when a smile teased at the corners of Tom's mouth, realizing she had quoted him.

"I won't disagree." He held the door, inclining his head when she walked through, falling into step beside her. "So, you're Head Girl now?"

"The badge does not lie."

"Well yes, but people can. When will you call the first meeting?"

"Haven't planned that far ahead yet." Minerva squinted as they navigated the densely populated east wing and stepped out into the sun. "I'll have to talk to Bilius, too.. Probably in a couple of days, though. Next week at the latest. When did you decide to take a 7th year dark arts course?"

"I took the N.E.W.T. level course early," he said, "so this was a natural progression." He regarded her with curiosity. "You're no longer Quidditch captain?"

Minerva's face darkened. "We don't discuss that."

"Don't tell me that fall permanently handicapped you."

"I'm not quite ready to get back on a broom," she said icily. "Thanks for reminding me."

Tom laughed. "Is it because that Slytherin victory was hard to swallow, or is it because it's taking more than three months to get over broken bones?"

Minerva impulsively reached up and smacked him soundly at the base of his skull. "I don't need to listen to this," she said, thought she already regretted striking him. His head tipped forward and he smirked, even as he rubbed the spot she had hit.

"And yet here you walk." They continued a few steps in silence. "I am sorry if you really aren't fit to play.. are you still in physical therapy?"

Minerva repressed her smile, keeping a neutral expression. "Don't you have anywhere to be?"

He paused. "Not that I'm aware of.."

"Pity." She pulled ahead of him.

"Hardly." His strides were long and he made short work of covering the distance between them. Minerva stopped abruptly, turning with a smile on her face and mischief in her eyes.

"What is your weekend like?"

"Uneventful?" He quirked a brow. "It's only the first week."

"Just checking," Minerva said. "Join me in Hogsmeade?"

Tom frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Why not?"

"Do try and look less disappointed on Friday," Minerva said coolly. "I'll see you tomorrow in DA, then."

He inclined his head. "Have a good afternoon, Minerva."

o0o

"That was anticlimactic," Ron observed.

"Hush, Ron," Hermione frowned. "There's obviously more to the story."

"Yes," McGonagall said. "Before, my only interaction with Tom was at Slughorn's parties, or prefect meetings, or in passing on the field. I knew him more by his reputation rather than simply knowing him as his own person." She paused. "But I think it was that afternoon that I began seeing him as an attractive young man of my age group," she added.

"Professor, you don't mean to say—" Hermione looked appalled.

"We'll get to it, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, her mouth compressed into a thin line. "We will get to it."

A/N: New seriesssss :D Show me some love with a review. For anyone following "If He'd Gotten the Job" I'm working on a new chapter, finally!