In a decade past, a secret lays hidden. A secret that would have sent whispers through the halls of Hogwarts , even half a century afterwards. A secret that died with its owner, one Minerva McGonagall.
For her whole adult life, she kept the knowledge of her feelings for a certain man a secret. The fact that she'd always watched him, watched him play with the ring on his finger, gleaming in the firelight. She'd watched as he held court, the others, Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Mulciber and Nott gathered around him like moths to a flame, not that he'd noticed. Even then, they were almost worthless to him, only there to worship him, nothing more.
She'd watched from afar, like always, as he'd slowly turned away from everyone. Slowly changed. As he had slowly become the man she would, half a century later, fight a war against.
She'd watched from afar as he bullied, broke curfew, studied books of far more complex magic than she had dared to touch. She had willed herself to step up, to stop him, report him, to do something, but she couldn't. Back then, only Professor Dumbledore saw through him, after the incident that occured in her fifth year, the death of a young girl.
She had realised, back then, that Dumbledore was the only one who saw through his act.
That's what it was, an act. She was sure, as sure as any seventeen year old could be, that deep within him, something terrible was hiding. Years later, she was proven right.
Her watching him, that wasn't the real secret. Deep within her, her darkest secret lay, something she yearned to expel from her being.
He was a mystery, dangerous, brooding, handsome and illusive. To the younger, impressionable Minevra McGonagall, he was entirely captivating, despite her attempts to deny that fact. At the time, he'd simultaneously repulsed and enthralled her.
A mere shadow of those feelings remained with her till her death, never to be spoken out loud. It was that shadow, perhaps, that made her shed a tear the night of the battle, not, as everyone thought, the deaths of her comrades.
Minevra McGonagall was never one to follow the traditional route. As much as she denied wanting love, needing love, she was as much a slave to her emotions as the next girl.
She was the protagonist in a one-sided, tragic, dangerous love story.
September 1st, 1941
"Oh, Minnie!"
I whirled around, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at the quartet of girls grinning wickedly at me.
"What?" I hissed at them, irritated at the interruption.
"Have fun with Prefect duty." Elsie said, before they all collapsed into hysterical laughter and headed off up to Gryffindor Tower.
I glowered after them for a moment, before turning my attention back to the gaggle of first years around me.
"Well, follow me." I said, trying and failing to think of anything welcoming to say.
They followed me up the stairs, leaving the crowds of Slytherin and Hufflepuff students below us.
I glanced back briefly as my foot landed on the top step; the Slytherin gang, led by fourth-year Tom Riddle, were just exiting the Great Hall.
His eyes met mine as I glanced back, cold and unnerving in their gaze. I watched them leave, headed for their common room, unable to tear myself away from their progress.
Only after they'd vanished from view did I continue sheperding the first-years upstairs, pulling several away from the amazing attraction that was the moving and talking portraits.
"But-but...they move!" One young boy said, gaping at the portait of a very put-out looking monk on the third floor.
"Yes, they do that." I replied vaguely, continuing on my march to the seventh floor.
"Where are we going?" A blonde girl with her hair in pigtails asked, looking up at me wide-eyed.
"The Gryffindor Tower. It will be your home in this castle for the next seven years." I replied, exactly like we'd been told.
The first years were quite enamored with the Fat Lady's portrait, something that took me by surprise.
Apparently they found her impression of an opera singer amusing.
Once I'd sheperded them into the common room, it took only a minute for them to file off up the staircases, incredibly enthused about seeing their new rooms.
I, on the other hand, took my time climbing all the way to the top of the girl's staircase, dreading the teasing that would await me on the other side of the wooden door.
The other inhabitants of my dormitory, Elsie Bones, Evelyn Potter, Josephine Belby and Vera McKinnon all thought that the Prefect role was a waste of time and energy. Of course, we'd all known from the start that I'd be the one to recieve the post, and they teased me to no end about it.
Pushing the heavy door open, I was immediatly assaulted with the scent I'd grown accustomed to over the past four years.
There was a hint of lemon from Eve's soap, something she swears by to maintain her blonde tresses, a slightly metallic smell from Jo's 'Pastel Evening' nailpolish and the ever-present scent of Vera's Chanel perfume, a gift from her grandmother for every Christmas since second year.
I put a foot through the door, inhaling the familiar smell. For me, that smell meant home. It reminded me of many night spent gossiping over boys, or the latest fashion (a topic I often detested), or the state of affairs with Grindelwald in other parts of Europe. I had turned in many an essay over the years with a distinct pink stain on it, a result from one of Jo's frequent nail-polish spills.
I pulled the door closed behind me, taking a moment to regard my surroundings, the dormitory I regarded as more of a home than my own bedroom.
"Minnie!" Elsie exclaimed, looking up from the copy of the Daily Prophet spread across her bed.
"How was babysitting?" She asked, sitting up in order to pay proper attention to torturing me.
"Alright." I replied, collapsing on my own bunk.
"Oh, Min, at least it's you who has all that responsibilty, not any of us. We'd be hopeless at it!" Jo says, causing giggles to erupt around us.
"Yeah, Minnie, we all known that you're the one who's going to go on and make us all proud. You'll be Head Girl yet." Eve says, smiling at me.
Evelyn Potter was probably the nicest girl I had ever met. With blonde hair reaching just below her shoulders, she captured the attention of just about any boy who walked past. Her eyes, the typical Potter green, were kind, and she tended to ease off on the rule breaking when I was around.
Elsie Bones was her exact opposite. Elsie was abrupt, spontaneous, as un-ladylike as anyone could possibly be. She relished in sidestepping the rules, and we were most often at loggerheads.
Elsie, like me, loved to argue and took great pleasure in arguing with me. On the train, for instance, we'd had an hour long debate over whether the Holyhead Harpies or Puddlemere United were most likely to win the Quidditch Cup this year.
Despite all that, we loved each other dearly, deep down. The five of us were like sisters, fighting all the time, but inseperable anyway.
The only thing we really differed on was our views. I wanted to build a life for myself, perhaps follow in the footsteps of Artemisia Lufkin and become a female Minister for Magic.
The other four were right set on marrying some big cheese, and parading around in all their glory. Even now, at the tender age of fifteen, they couldn't help but lust after the boys in our year.
I was sure it was something they'd grow out of, whilst they constantly told me that I needed to 'live a little'.
"So, Minnie, now that you're here, it's time to discuss!" Vera said, her face alight with excitement, something that only ever happened when boys were the topic of discussion.
Ah, yes. It was time for the first of many gossiping sessions for fifth year.
"What does everyone think of Harold Barkwith this year? I must say, he's improved immensly from last year." Jo said, starting off the conversation.
Josephine Belby was quite well acquainted with many of the boys of our year, as her parents were family friends of their's. As such, she was an authority on the current subject.
Vera McKinnon, on the other hand, was only an authority on one subject, by the name of John Harkiss. John was a friend of Jo's brother, Robert. Ever since Vera had been introduced to John last summer, the two had been almost inseperable. Since they'd started going steady last year, Vera hadn't looked twice at anyone else. She insists that within four years, they'll be married.
I can't really say that was the sort of life plan I had, but I let her have her fun. John was a nice enough bloke, as far as any of us knew.
"You know who was looking over at us all through dinner?" Elsie said, and we all leaned in, eager to hear.
"Tom Riddle." She whispered, and Jo shrieked in excitement.
"That fourth year? Slytherin?" She said, almost bouncing off her bed in excitement.
I looked at her, my eyebrows raised. Yes, Riddle was mildly attractive, but he was also in fourth year. And a Slytherin as well.
"He's absolutely splendid." Eve put in, and I couldn't help but gape at her.
If any of the group were going to side with me on this matter, it would've been Eve. But no, apparently she too was entranced by Tom's charms.
I huffed in annoyance, lying back onto my bed, staring moodily at the ceiling while the other four debated the exact colour of Riddle's eyes.
"They're black." I finally cut in, sick of the debate over how dark a brown eyes could get.
"No one can have black eyes. It doesn't happen." Elsie retorted immediately, and I rolled my eyes at her.
"Take a look next time you see him. I swear on Godric's grave, they're black." I said, still lying on my bed.
"How do you know that?" Jo asked slyly, always scooping for gossip.
"I thought you couldn't care less what went on with a Slytherin?" She said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her lean closer to me, tilting precariously close to the edge of her bed.
"I don't. He was just staring at me as I left the Entrance Hall." I replied automatically, before realising what I'd said.
Or, more importantly, what I'd started. Jo and Elsie were already off, concocting some long-winded tail of Riddle's hidden love for me.
I groaned, rolling over onto my stomach and throwing my pillow over my head.
It was going to be a very long night.
"Min! Get up this instant!" Jo yelled, startling me out of a very peaceful slumber.
"What?" I hissed grumpily, dragging myself out of bed and into the bathroom.
"It's time for breakfast." She said smugly, before returning to the mirror and the daily task of curling her hair around her wand so that it hung 'just right'.
After we were all dressed, and in the cases of the other four, suitably made-up for their various beaux, we trudged down the many staircase to the Great Hall.
"I hope we aren't starting with Double Potions this morning, or else my hair will be a waste!" Jo exclaimed, patting her carefully pinned hair.
It was true, often we exited Potions with various gooey substances in our hair. Last year, for example, Elsie spent one afternoon covered in a blue liquid that stained her shirt permanently. She wasn't impressed, and as such is planning on dropping Potions after O. this year simply to avoid the mess.
"Ah, Miss McGonagall, Miss Potter, Miss Bones, Miss Belby and Miss McKinnon. Your timetables."
Professor Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House appeared seemingly out of nowhere behind us, passing us our timetables.
"Thank you, sir." I replied, smiling at my favourite Professor.
Transfiguration was my best, and favourite subject, something I largely contributed to the ingenuit of our Professor. Whilst Dumbledore was undoubtedly a bit odd, he was a splendid teacher.
"How were your summers?" He asked, helping himself to a piece of toast.
"Well enough." Elsie replied, and we all smiled along.
"Good, good." Dumbledore replied, before excusing himself, needing to go hand out more timetables, saying that he'd see us all in Transfiguration in a few hours.
We all immediately glanced down at the piece of parchment depicting our schedules.
Mine was fairly kind, beginning the day with Charms, then Transfiguration and finishing with History of Magic.
I had a free period as well, something the other four were all incredibly excited about. Their timetables were the same as mine, so we set off to first period Charms together.
Charms, taught by Professor MacDonald, was another subject I excelled in naturally. History of Magic, on the other hand, was not. Taught by Professor Binns, it was easily the most boring subject (except perhaps Divination, not that I'd ever taken that) on offer.
However, I diligently took notes in it anyway, reading them over in my spare time like we were supposed. I strongly suspected the other four would barely scrape an 'E' on the O.W.L, but they didn't seem to care.
As we excited the Great Hall, the fourth year Slytherin's appeared from the dungeons, heading to breakfast. The five of us immediately quietened, all watching Riddle in case he acted oddly.
We were almost to the stairs before Riddle acknowledged us, or more accurately, me. He turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving up in a slight smile, his eyes once again locked to mine.
I froze, the other four staring between him and me. He quickly vanished into the hall, and I continued on like nothing had happened.
"He stared at you!" Elsie gasped, clutching my arm.
"I know." I replied shortly.
"But-but, Min, he smiled at you! Do you know what this could mean?" Jo said, her eyes bright.
I rolled my eyes in response.
"I don't care what it might or might not mean. I have no interest in Riddle whatsoever, he's a fourth year and a Slytherin. Besides, something about him gives me the heebie-jeebies." I said as we reached the first floor landing.
The others all considered this.
"I see what you mean," Eve said, "something about him feels...off."
I smiled at her, grateful that she came to my defense.
Elsie, however, did not.
"Are you sure you don't just like him, Min? That you don't secretly carry a torch for Riddle?" She teased, her face mischevious.
I glared at her, not dignifying that with a response.
"Oh, Min, one day something will happen and you won't be able to stop staring at him. Just you wait." Vera said, clearly influenced by her own experience with Jack Harkiss.
I ignored this, instead leading the way into our Charms classroom.
They were wrong, most definitely. Tom Riddle was headed for bad things, being a Slytherin and all. Someone like me, someone focused and no doubt destined for great things, had no reason to associate with him.
He might be brilliant and mildly attractive, but he did not hold my interest at all. Not one bit.