For the first time in her Hogwarts education, Stateira was not returning home for winter break. Neither her mother nor her gran were allowed to Apparate out of London, so Stateira had no magical mode of transportation. She didn't mind—Hogwarts was as good of a place as any to spend the holidays for her. Warmth, food, and privacy were always appreciated.

Her mother and gran were under the assumption that she would be spending the holidays with the Blood Traitor. He'd written to her mum before Visiting Day letting her know of the plan. Apparently he was going to tell Stateira about it during his visit, and she was glad she hadn't let him.

The only other Slytherin that stayed behind was little Eileen Prince, who, according to Slughorn, was already a prodigy in Potions. She was painfully shy but smiled at Stateira every time they saw each other. Stateira made a mental note to try and make the first-year more included in Slytherin, as Eileen typically went ignored by everyone else besides Slughorn. After all, it was the prefects' duty to look out for the younger years, which Alphard Black seemed to do with ease.

A few other sixth-years stayed behind as well, but the only one Stateira knew was Edwina Boot. Her Defense partner approached her in the library one day shortly after break started.

"Erm, McElroy…will you help me with something?"

Stateira thought she meant something to do with homework or the like, since they had every class except Astronomy together. "Alright."

Edwina had chin-length strawberry blonde hair and very pale blonde eyebrows and lashes. Like Eileen Prince, she was very timid and quiet. "Well, erm…I wanted to ask you for a…a favor?"

Stateira eyed her warily. "Have a seat." She didn't like looking up at another student, especially since Edwina was even taller than she.

The girl obeyed, looking down at her hands as her courage faltered. Trying not to show impatience, Stateira returned to the book she was reading. She'd read it last term and wanted to copy a few lines that had struck a chord with her.

"You see…there's this book I would like to check out. It's called Harnessing the Subconscious Will by Marina Antipoulos. Have you heard of it?"

Stateira shook her head, wondering what the girl's point was.

"It's extremely useful and interesting. Anyway, I'd love to read it… but it's, erm, in the Restricted Section. I tried to ask Merrythought, but she doesn't write slips for Restricted books unless specifically used for her class."

"Ask Dunst, then." Stateira still did not see where this was going. "Or Riddle. I doubt either of them have that policy."

"Well, I don't think Dunst would give one," Edwina said thoughtfully, "but Riddle might, since it's directly related to the class. It's got all the things he's always talking about, you know, intent and all that. I hope it might help me in Defense…"

Stateira set her quill down as Edwina's point started to sink in. "You want me to ask Riddle for a slip."

"Well…yes." Edwina looked away, biting her lip.

Already suspecting the answer, Stateira asked, "Why do you need me to ask him? He wouldn't say no to you."

The girl's face colored. "Well…you know. He'll certainly give it to you since you're his—he is rather fond of you. I mean, you are the best student in the class. Well, maybe you're tied with Delmont; he's rather good, too…"

Stateira let out a sigh. "Alright, write down the name and author of the book." She turned over her piece of parchment and slid it along with the quill across the table. "But let me be clear. I am not Riddle's favorite. Ignatius Prewett is an obnoxious fool and you shouldn't listen to anything he says."

"Done," Edwina said happily, jotting down the information. The look on her face suggested that she was not only excited to get the book, but that she didn't have to gather the courage to ask Riddle anything directly. Stateira reckoned that she, like three-quarters of the older girls at Hogwarts, fancied him a bit. He was extremely handsome, she had to admit, but she knew from experience—namely the Blood Traitor—that the more handsome and/or rich the man was, the more of a selfish prat. This logic could be used toward Abraxas Malfoy and Icarus Yaxley as well.

"Alright, give me about an hour," she said, taking back the quill and parchment. "Let me finish this up first."

"Oh no, there's no rush," Edwina assured her enthusiastically. "I don't think he's even here. I haven't seen him in the Great Hall. He might be away, at his home. Say, do you think he's married?"

Stateira shook her head; not only did she doubt Riddle was married, but she remembered that his parents were dead, so he most likely did not have family to visit. She didn't say this to Edwina, only, "Well, I'll go round to his office later."

"Thanks, Mc—Stateira. You're a doll!"

Before Stateira could make a face, Edwina scuttled out of the library.

When the words blurred in front of her eyes and her hand started cramping from gripping the quill, Stateira decided it was best to pack up and find something else to do. More out of curiosity than obligation to Edwina, she headed down to the dungeons. As her footsteps echoed down the empty corridor, she briefly wondered what her mum and gran were up to. No doubt sitting around the wood-burning stove, glum and silent, assuming her mother had risen out of bed. Yes, Hogwarts was definitely preferable over that.

Expecting the Defense classroom to be empty, she threw open the door, strode in, and stopped short when she saw Riddle at his desk, watching her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Professor!" she gasped, flushing. "I didn't realize you…"

"It's quite alright, Miss McElroy," he said calmly. He pointed his quill at a chair near his desk. "Have a seat. Is there something you want to ask me?"

"Erm, yes." Stateira smoothed down her skirt as she sat in the chair. Not wanting to look at Riddle's face or notes—although she was intrigued by both—she toyed with the piece of parchment Edwina had written on. "I would like to check out a book, but it's from the Restricted Section." She was glad to hear more confidence in her voice than Edwina had, but her hand slightly shook as she placed the parchment on the desk.

Riddle picked it up and glanced at it. "Ah, yes, a very good choice. You will find that every layer of the mind contributes to effective spell-casting." He opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a booklet of permission slips. As he copied down the author's name, Stateira realized with a jolt that he was sure to recognize Edwina's small, straight-lined penmanship, very different from her own loopy script. But if he noticed that, he didn't say anything.

"You might want to wait until after the holidays, as you won't be able to take the book home with you," he said as he passed her the slip.

"I—oh. I'm, er, staying here for the entire break, sir," she told him, picturing her mum and gran again. "Are you going home?"

His face hardened for half a second before he gave her a small smile. "I am home. Hogwarts has been my home since my first year."

There were many other questions that statement brought up, but Stateira knew she could not ask them, so she simply nodded. "Hogwarts is a wonderful place. Well, I'll let you get back to your work. Thank you for the slip, Professor."

"You're welcome," Riddle replied, already continuing his notes. "Enjoy the book and let me know if you have any questions."

"I will, sir."

On the way back up from which she came, Stateira wondered whether she should've wished him happy holidays while simultaneously kicking herself for asking him such a personal question. Well, it hadn't been that personal; she was trying to be polite, but with Riddle everything was a mystery. He was neither friendly nor unfriendly, and there was a detachment from his students, even the Slytherins. Where Prewett had gotten this "favorite" idea from was beyond her, but she supposed it was because of his non-reaction to the Blood Traitor fiasco.

Her plan was to hunt down Edwina and give her the slip, but she looked down at it and realized that Riddle had written her name on it, so she'd have to be the one to check out Harnessing the Subconscious Will. "Wow, someone has spelt my name correctly," she remarked quietly herself, heading back to the library.

She did not find Edwina right away, so she brought the book back to her room and read it straight through, which took about a week.

Alphard Black and his older brother, Cygnus, and cousin, Orion, sat in Cygnus' room, bored, in the Dullest and Most Stifling House of Black. Alphard and Cygnus' mother, Irma, forbade them to make a single move now that their finest robes were on. Alphard hated those damn dress robes, because Irma watched them beadily for not only rough-housing but spilling of food on them. This constant threat did not make for a pleasant meal.

"At least we'll get to see Abraxas," Alphard said into the silent, uncomfortable air. He sat on the bed, Cygnus on the desk chair, and Orion on the floor. "He says he's got something to tell us."

Cygnus rolled his eyes. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's illuminating."

"His father probably bribed Dippet to let him graduate earlier," Orion added.

Alphard bit his lip. It was true that Abraxas could be a pompous prat, but in addition to well-connected and smooth with girls, he could give Alphard some difficulty if he went against him. And so Alphard was reluctant to join in on the heckling.

Their smiles quickly vanished as the door swung open and Alphard's older sister, Walburga, barged in.

"Nice of you to leave me with Mum to go have a collective wank," she snapped at her brothers. "Cygnus, lay off the waving lotion; it'll hardly work wonders with a face like yours."

Walburga was in her early twenties and still unmarried, which was no mystery to anyone who spent more than 15 minutes with her. She, like Druella Rosier, had thick blonde curls and porcelain skin, but Walburga's eyes were smaller and almost always narrowed in dislike. Due to her temper tantrums, vicious insults, and general sourness, she was having a bit of trouble finding a suitable Sacred 28 husband. Rumor had it that Felix Lestrange flatly told his parents not a chance in hell when they'd proposed the idea to him.

"What do you want, dear sister?" Cygnus asked dully without rancor, unfazed by her outbursts by that point.

"Go downstairs and sit at the tables. The Malfoys have just arrived." Her brown eyes fell on Orion, and suddenly her tone changed entirely. "Orion, dear, it's best not to sit on the floor. Mum and Aunt Melania will have a cow if they see your robes wrinkled before supper."

The three boys stared at her in shock, but without another word, Walburga turned on her heel, her flowered dress robes swinging out, and disappeared down the hall.

Any type of conversation when Cassius Malfoy and Pollux Black got together went one, two, or all of three ways: a rehash of their youth, since they'd known each other since their pre-Hogwarts years, derisive remarks about how the Ministry was run, or boasting about rare, valuable artifacts recently purchased. This evening was no different. The adults, including Walburga, Cygnus, Orion, and Abraxas, had more than a few glasses of firewhiskey, but Alphard did not have any. He didn't turn 17 until April, and while some other parents may have looked the other way, Irma Black wouldn't dream of letting her underage son disgrace her.

As a result, Alphard and, strangely, Abraxas were the only ones fully coherent by the end of the meal. "Come on, let's go to your room," he muttered to Cygnus, who then nodded to Alphard before excusing themselves. Alphard gave a moment before doing the same on the pretense of escorting Orion to one of the spare bedrooms, as his cousin was slightly wobbling.

After nearly dragging Orion up the stairs, where all of the portraits of ancestors past either sneered at them or gave out cries of disgust, Alphard arrived in Cygnus' room to find that he missed a good portion of Abraxas' news.

"An English bloke?" Cygnus was asking, dark eyes now wide with awe instead of hazy like they'd been 10 minutes previously.

"Yeah…I reckon he went to Hogwarts…but we'd have heard of him by now…"

"I wonder," Cygnus said thoughtfully, "if he's the same bloke who graduated in '45 that said he wanted to rule over muggles."

"Who are you talking about?" Alphard asked, letting go of his cousin and sitting on the bed.

Abraxas turned to him, staring into his eyes. "You've got to promise you won't speak a word of this to anyone at Hogwarts."

"I promise," Alphard replied quickly.

"I swear on my mother's life, Black, I will curse you…"

"I said, I promise."

Abraxas hesitated for effect before saying, "I heard there's a new Dark wizard rising."

"What?"

"You heard right." Abraxas' grey eyes were lit up with glee. "It gets better. The Dark wizard wants to purify the wizarding race, and Lestrange says he's even more powerful than Dumbledore or Grindelwald."

Alphard's mind was fuzzy, uncomprehending. "Purify the wizarding race?" he repeated dumbly.

"Come on, brother, don't be dense," Cygnus snapped impatiently. "Purify—to make pure. To get rid of the filthy mudbloods and half-breeds from our society. Lestrange says even half-bloods have their rightful place, and that's under a pureblood's thumb."

Alphard was feeling slightly ill; he just couldn't ever seem to muster up the same hatred of muggles as the rest of his family. Of course he would never fraternize with any, but his dying wish wasn't to see them all under control either.

"Any idea what this Dark wizard's plans are?" Cygnus asked.

Abraxas shook his head. "All I know is that he's gathering followers and Lestrange is one of them. I'm debating whether or not to join if he grows in power. Dad will kill me if I get caught doing anything illegal."

Whomever this Dark wizard was, Alphard suspected he couldn't be up to any sort of good if Lestrange backed him up. Felix Lestrange was odd, to put it nicely, and Alphard thought privately that he was not all there in terms of mental stability.

"Well, let me know when you find out anything else, will you?" Cygnus said. "And on another topic, kindly stay the hell away from Druella Rosier. She's mine."

Abraxas stared at him. "Alright—?"

"I've heard you've taken a fancy to her."

"No, mate, that's Yaxley, not me, but don't worry, the poor bloke hasn't got a chance anyway. McElroy's the one I'm keen on lately, especially after that blood traitor denouncement." He was grinning mischievously now. "I wouldn't mind her taking out all that pent-up frustration on me."

"Alexander's sister?" Cygnus asked. "You know they're dead poor right now, yeah? That whole family's mental. Only the grandmother is part of the Sacred 28."

Alphard looked around and realized his cousin had gone off somewhere. "Where's Orion?"

The other two shrugged, unconcerned. "Probably lying in the corridor," Cygnus chuckled. "He was more than a bit pissed, wasn't he?"

Anticipating an ear-shattering reprimand from his mother, Alphard decided it was best to collect Orion before any of the parents left the dining hall. He excused himself and set out to search for him.

He found Orion about 15 minutes later in his aunt Dorea's room in a compromising position with his older sister. Walburga's blouse was fully unbuttoned and Orion was kissing her chest, sliding his hand up her skirt. Her head was thrown back as she panted, eyes closed…until they opened to see Alphard standing in the doorway, transfixed.

"BUGGER OFF, YOU LITTLE—!"

Alphard slammed the door on Walburga's last word and fled down the hall. Once safely locked in his own room, he fell face-first on his bed and let out a sigh of disgust. They were both adults; they could do what they wanted, but still they used to take baths together. He shuddered at the burning image of what he'd just witnessed. The worst of it was that he knew none of his parents, aunts, and uncles would be concerned about two first cousins marrying. Irma would only feel relief at Walburga finally finding a pureblood husband.

Tonjours Pur, Alphard thought snidely, even when our ideals are filthy.

Twenty-one years ago, on 31st December 1926, a dying woman stumbled into a muggle orphanage and gave birth to Tom Marvolo Riddle. Right around this time of night, in fact. His father had left him before his birth and his mother had died shortly after it. Tom hated his birthday, and he hated thinking about his pathetic parents. He hadn't needed them or anyone else, anyway.

He poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and tossed it back all at once. Hogwarts was finally still, and he could sit in his office as long as he liked without Slughorn or one of his ridiculous students bothering him.

In addition to that good fortune, his faithful Knight had sent him a gift: a book that was released without any publication but was sure to stir up quite a reaction in the near future. It had a picture of an old bearded man with half-moon spectacles on the cover and was titled The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.

"Stripping away the popular image of serene, silver-bearded wisdom, Francine Skeeter reveals the disturbed childhood, the lawless youth, the lifelong feuds and the guilty secrets Dumbledore carried to his grave."

Tom closed the book, stared at the old man for a moment, his once-enemy, and glanced at the author's photo. Francine Skeeter, a blonde with deep red lips, was winking and smiling broadly.

He took another shot of firewhiskey, relaxed in his desk chair, and opened the book back up to the first page. It wouldn't be such a bad birthday after all. He'd have to send this Skeeter woman some flowers.

January 1948 was cold and bleak, but there were bright spots: a tentative friendship with Edwina Boot and Stateira's rapid progress in nonverbal spell-casting. Her spells were not much more powerful than average, but the speed at which she conjured them and strategies formed in her head made for very effective dueling.

The older students were often having discussions about a newly-released book, The Life of Albus Dumbledore or something like that. Stateira was not interested—she avoided all topics about Dumbledore. It was not as if she had any sort of loathing of him. He certainly had been clever, but he would've rather had helped muggles than his own kind.

Edwina was much less shy around her now, and they spoke of a multitude of topics, such as Defense and other classes, Harnessing the Subconscious Will, and events at Hogwarts. The only topic they didn't talk about was their families.

Stateira wasn't sure if she wanted another Ravenclaw friend. Antonia Longbottom was a Ravenclaw, and their falling-out had occurred over their different views on muggles. Stateira had told Antonia that she was naïve and didn't understand the real world. She also told her about the dreadful summer of '41 with the Muggle, and Antonia had replied that maybe Stateira ought to drop her preconceived notions about muggles. Thus, Stateira had dropped her. Fortunately, Edwina didn't seem to care about her feelings of muggles.

Only two people had an issue with their friendship: Antonia Longbottom and her apparent boyfriend, Bruin Weasley. A confrontation in early February would lead to what was epically known as the Weasley Weasel Incident for years to come.

"Listen, I don't know what you're playing at," Antonia hissed in Stateira's ear while they were on their way to the Great Hall for supper. Antonia had caught up with her after her Charms lesson. "But stay away from Edwina Boot. She's a good girl."

Stateira turned and looked into her former friend's narrowed, light hazel eyes. "And I'm not a 'good girl,' Longbottom?" she asked coldly. "Why is that, because I'm a Slytherin?"

Antonia opened her mouth to snarl a reply, but she was interrupted by Weasley and Prewett appearing at her side out of nowhere. "Is everything alright, love?"

"Everything is fine, Weasley, move along," Stateira replied tartly.

"I wasn't speaking to you, McElroy," he snapped. Beside him, the beginnings of a smile was starting to form on Prewett's face.

"Everything is fine, Bruin," Antonia said.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Come, darling, let's have a seat." He tossed a nasty look at Stateira as he gently pulled Antonia away.

"Actually, 'darling' and I are having a conversation, Weasley," Stateira said, keeping her voice falsely cheerful. "So if you would kindly sod off, that would be most helpful."

He went still, cutting off Prewett and the others behind them, and stood between Antonia and Stateira, facing the latter and glaring at her intensely. "Ignatius is right. You're not much of a charmer."

"Get out of my face, blood traitor."

"Bruin." Antonia's voice had a tinge of worry to it. "Let's go. This conversation is over."

Weasley ignored her. "No wonder you're always by yourself. Even the Slytherins don't like you."

"I said, get out of my face, blood traitor." Stateira couldn't hear her words over the ringing in her ears. Beneath her Mary Janes, the floor started to rumble.

"What are you going to do?" Weasley asked quietly. "Shoot me with a killer, like your dead brother did to Dumbledore? What a hero he was, torturing and killing the best wizard of the 20th century with his pathetic cronies."

Prewett, who was feeling the rumble under his feet, took a step forward to interject. "Come on, mate, let's just—"

"Incarcerous!" As soon as the end of the ropes left Stateira's wand, a Shield Charm appeared, blocking Weasley's Stunning Spell. Prewett fell to the floor, writhing in rage, as the ropes tightened themselves around his arms and legs.

Ducking around a frozen Antonia, Stateira lifted her charm and shot an orange light right between Weasley's shoulder blades. His tall, lanky frame immediately shrunk until he was less than a foot tall, his nose and mouth grew pointier, and hair covered his body. He was now a ferret, complete with whiskers and beady black eyes.

A few of the surrounding students were roaring with laughter, but Stateira did not see them. Everything surrounding the ferret was a complete blur, and all of it was tinged red, as if her face was behind a thin veil.

She levitated the ferret about 10 feet and then quickly pulled her wand away as she saw Antonia lunging toward her, reaching out and gripping her arm. Relashio! Statiera thought and sent the younger girl flying backward, hitting the wall. As her foot stomped on the floor, a loud shake brought the surrounding students to their knees.

"Get Merrythought or someone!" Prewett bawled, still tied up and shaking violently with fear. Stateira raised the ferret up as grey smoke flowed out of her wand and wrapped around the animal, making him writhe and squeal in pain as it twisted around him…

Edwina Boot dashed to the Great Hall and stopped short in front of the double doors, trying to catch her breath. Tears gathered into her eyes, threatening to fall, but luckily they receded with every breath she took. Knowing her facial expression might alarm people, she opened one of the doors and slipped inside. About 99% of Hogwarts was sitting at their respective tables, chatting and eating. Heart still skipping beats, Edwina carefully walked down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables as she approached her destination, the staff table. Professors Merrythought and Vector stopped their conversation at the sight of the white-faced, normally calm sixth-year.

"I—I'm sorry to bother you, Professors," Edwina choked out as quietly as she could. "But there's something going on in the corridor…"

Against her will, tears sprang to Edwina's eyes again as Professor Merrythought jumped up and quickly strode around the table. Edwina didn't want to grass on Stateira, considering the girl her friend, but she was likely to kill Bruin Weasley if someone didn't get ahold of her. Edwina was terrified for Bruin, but at the same time, she understood Stateira's wrath. Contrary to what many of the other students seemed to think, the actions of her brother were not her fault, and she was clearly suffering from them.

Edwina herself was no stranger to suffering and loss. In 1938, her mum, a German muggle, had contracted tuberculosis and passed away, leaving Edwina, her sister Callista, and their father alone in their old shack in Ottery St. Catchpole. Callista was young enough to bounce back quickly enough, but Edwina missed her mother deeply and her father even more so. He still went to work faithfully six days per week, but once he came home, he walked straight to the armchair and downed pint after pint, nearly unaware of his two daughters. It was haunting to watch; Edwina dreaded going back home for the summer break. Luckily a neighboring family, the Lovegoods, often helped take care of Callista while Edwina was at Hogwarts.

As soon as she and Merrythought left the Great Hall, they felt the floor tremoring and a green mist stung their eyes and throats. "There!" Edwina screamed, and the professor saw a cloud of grey smoke in the air with some type of rat twisting around, screeching in pain. On the floor, about eight students were rolling around, unable to get up no matter how hard they tried. Then they saw the tall, rigid figure of Stateira McElroy, one hand holding her raised wand, the other balled up and pressed to her mouth, blood dripping down her chin.

"FINITE INCANTATEM!" Professor Merrythought bellowed as someone grabbed Stateira's robes and yanked, causing her to stumble and lift the smoke. It started to dissipate as Bruin Weasley, back to his original form but now bloodied and bruised, fell to the floor, whimpering. Next to him, Prewett was still bound and struggling.

Professor Merrythought's voice came out rather calm for the circumstance. "Miss McElroy, lower your wand."

The girl's face was still a mask of rage, but she followed the command. She didn't seem to be able to unlock her muscles, so Professor Merrythought took a moment to survey the shell-shocked students, shivering Weasley, and the Gryffindor prefect slumped against the wall, unmoving.

"What have you done, you wretched girl?" Professor Merrythought whispered.

As she was being marched down the hall, held by the upper arm by Merrythought, Stateira's breathing slightly slowed, but her fists remained clenched, her chest heaved, her vision was blurred, and that god-awful ringing pierced her eardrums.

"Get back in the Great Hall!" she barked to the heads poking through the double doors. "Tom! Meet me in Armando's office right away, please!" The words sounded muffled through the ringing, and Stateira's eyes were so slit that she couldn't see where she was going.

Oddly, the gargoyle statue guarding the headmaster's office calmed her down enough for the ringing to subside so she could think clearly. As Merrythought nudged her up the stairs, she gained enough sense to pull out a handkerchief and wipe the blood from her chin. Wrapping it around her swollen, bitten finger, she followed the professor inside Dippet's office.

"Armando, I'm sorry to interrupt," Merrythought said, even though Dippet appeared to be doing nothing at all prior to their arrival, "but I found her terrorizing a Gryffindor prefect. She transfigured him into a ferret and caused him great harm with some type of Dark spell, knocked another student unconscious, and tied yet another in ropes."

Dippet was staring goggle-eyed at the girl in front of him, imploring her to sit. She obeyed, fists still clenched. Merrythought held her wand, looking like she wanted to snap it in two. "This is the same Slytherin prefect who used racial slurs on Visiting Day last term. I've had enough, Armando. I want her out."

The headmaster looked startled. "Out?"

"Yes, as in, out of Hogwarts. She is violent, unstable, and clearly a danger to other students."

Stateira was having difficulty breathing again, and deep inside her ear canals, the ringing was starting back up.

"As serious as this is, I don't think—Ah, Tom."

"Sorry I'm late, I got caught up breaking up a duel between two students," Riddle said from behind her. She kept her eyes on her knees, not wanting to see his disgusted expression. She'd earned many points, praises, and looks of approval from him recently, and now all of that was about to get tossed out. "What's happened?"

"Your little Slytherin put Bruin Weasley in the Hospital Wing by transfiguring him into an animal and knocking him around. This is acceptable behavior for a prefect? She needs her badge taken and her trunk packed!"

"Alright, let's take a deep breath," Dippet suggested tiredly, looking uncomfortable.

"Yes, sorry about that, Armando." Merrythought's rapid change of tone jarred Stateira out of her fit. She lifted her eyes to sneak a look at the older woman, who was glowering at Riddle. "This is the second time in six months that Miss McElroy here has been caught terrorizing other students. I strongly recommend her expulsion."

"I'd hardly call that terrorizing, Galatea," Riddle said smoothly. "Bruin Weasley is known to provoke other students, Slytherins in particular."

"I will not stand here and argue what constitutes terrorizing, Tom. She is a prefect; she should know to show exemplary behavior at all times."

"She has shown exemplary behavior for six years, Galatea. I see no benefit to tossing out such a bright student over one incident."

"This is the second incident, and don't you think her marks shouldn't excuse her vicious attacks, Tom?"

They were spitting each other's names out as if the taste of them were bitter on their tongues. Dippet and Stateira were watching them apprehensively, speechless.

"Of course not, Galatea, but I, along with Horace and Julius, believe Miss McElroy is much more of an asset than a burden."

Stateira's mouth opened slightly, but she didn't dare to even breathe, not wanting to draw attention to herself. If there was a chance she was not going to be expelled…

"Well, at least take her badge then!" Merrythought burst out. "We can't have this behavior from a prefect!"

Now Dippet looked even more stricken. "Hogwarts has never rescinded a prefect's badge before…"

"As it shouldn't," Riddle said, addressing Dippet. "She has already earned that badge. If this is very out of the ordinary behavior for such a student, perhaps we should be asking what the motive is instead of punishing her? I understand Miss McElroy has recently lost her brother."

"Her brother was…"

Merrythought trailed off at the dangerous look on Riddle's face. Stateira was desperately fighting the urge to bite her finger, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Are you insinuating that her brother's conviction has somehow exempted her from the pain of loss, Galatea?"

"No, I merely—"

"Enough!" Dippet blurted suddenly, surprising even himself. "We will neither expel Miss McElroy at this time nor revoke her badge, but she needs to be properly punished so this never happens again."

Abandoning pretense, Stateira dropped her head into her hands, sighing in relief.

"Yes, properly," Merrythought emphasized, gaining strength again. "None of this '20 points' codswallop."

"I assume you've already taken points, Galatea?" There was a trace of amusement in Riddle's voice now; he seemed to enjoy when she was all riled up. "I will take care of the rest, as I am her Head of House, remember?"

For a moment, Merrythought looked flustered, but she recovered quickly. "No, I haven't taken points; I was quite busy getting her under control. You need to actually punish her, Tom."

"Very well." He turned to Stateira and looked at her full-on for the first time since his arrival. "One hundred and fifty points from Slytherin and detention, my office, once a week for the rest of term."

"For the rest of term?" Stateira echoed before she could clap a hand over her mouth. Term was another four months long, which meant about 16 detentions.

"Yes, Miss McElroy, for the rest of term," Riddle said firmly before turning back to the other two. "If we're done here, I'll be taking her to my office to discuss her detention schedule."

Merrythought looked like she wanted to protest, but there wouldn't be a point. Dippet was already agreeing, ready to place the incident in the past.

Now Stateira's upper arm was held by Riddle as he took such long strides that she nearly had to jog to keep up. The walk from the headmaster's office to his seemed to stretch on to eternity. Once they were in the classroom, he wordlessly pointed to a chair in front of his desk as he closed the door and went around the desk.

She sat down and looked up, saying, "Oh, Professor, thank you so much…" and stopped short when she saw that Riddle's dark eyebrows were joined and his lips were tightened as he glared at her. He smacked his palms against the desk, making her wince, and leaned over it, slightly above eye-level with her.

"Imagine what an extraordinary witch you could be if you had a single ounce of self-control," he hissed.

Her eyes widened not only in fear, but there was a bit of flattery there, that he, of all people, thought she was capable of being extraordinary.

"You've got the talent, the strength, it's all there," he continued. "Your brother had it, too, and I expected you to be like him, but you are reckless and impulsive. You need to control yourself."

"I don't know how," she whispered, looking down and trying to blink tears away.

Embarrassed by her weakness, her face sank into her hands again as the first tear leaked out. She couldn't help it; everything seemed to be pushing her down: Alexander's death, the Blood Traitor incident, Antonia Longbottom's disdain, the abrupt end of her friendship with Edwina Boot… All of these things swirling around, all of these feelings, but what to do with them?

"Miss McElroy…Stateira." Riddle's voice was closer. He'd walked around the desk and was standing nearby, to the right but still in front of her. She uncovered her face and, seeing that her handkerchief was a bloody mess, wiped her cheeks on the sleeve of her robe.

"Sorry for crying," she muttered, staring straight ahead. On the wall there was a painting of the castle and grounds, the Black Lake on one side and the Forbidden Forest on the other. She wondered who'd painted it.

"It's alright," Riddle said patiently. "All 16-year-old girls cry. I've never heard of one that doesn't."

She smiled weakly, still too ashamed to meet his gaze.

"Stateira, look at me."

Tears were clinging to her eyelashes, but she didn't wipe them for fear of smearing her mascara. Riddle was standing with his arms folded across his chest. "Everything you're feeling now can be molded to what you want to use it for. Not just for crying or destroying first-floor bathrooms." He smiled slightly at her shocked expression. "You can channel it into your magic. If it's strong enough, you will find that you can bend the world to your needs. Many great wizards, such as Grindelwald, have used their unfortunate surroundings as ammunition, partly to become more powerful and partly to ensure that their suffering has truly come to an end."

"How?" She was rigid with awe now, the bathroom incident forgotten. "Can you teach me to channel it, Professor?"

"It cannot be formally taught, unfortunately. What I can do is teach you powerful spells that are…not normally taught here, and you can build your control through those."

"Oh, like Legilimency?" Stateira sat up straighter with an excited gleam in her eyes. "Won't you please teach me that, Professor?"

A slight frown crossed his face. "From where did you take the idea that I know Legilimency?"

"Well firstly, you know everything, and second, no one knows about the first-floor bathroom."

"Actually, I'd deduced it was you who destroyed the bathroom after witnessing the same uncontrolled magic in the corridor on Mr. Weasley."

Stateira wasn't sure she believed him, but his relaxed tone encouraged her. "Don't worry if you did use it; you know I won't grass on you, sir. I'm dying to learn Legilimency…please?" She clasped her hands together imploringly.

"You do realize it is not as simple as that? It takes years to master. First you have to learn Occlumency, which yes, I can teach you. It's not forbidden at Hogwarts."

A few minutes passed where Stateira was caught up in a daydream about probing into people's minds and seeing that memory, the one everyone had which held the greatest influence on their behavior.

"Alright, Miss McElroy, now it's time to discuss the topic I originally brought you here for, which is your detention." Riddle's professional, no-nonsense voice was turned back on. "Every Friday, eight o'clock, no exceptions, until the last Friday of term. No exceptions, Miss McElroy, I'm serious. If you are tired, you will come here and sleep. If you are sick, you will come here and rest. Every Friday, eight o'clock. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Stateira asked, wanting to ask him where she would rest or sleep there, but she knew she had to keep her sass in check. The madness of the day was sinking in; her muscles were quite reluctant to move. With a heavy exhale, she heaved herself off the chair and turned to leave. Halfway to the door, she turned back around. Riddle was opening the door to his office.

"Professor Riddle?" she asked before she could lose her nerve.

"Yes?"

"I have just one more question…"

The two of them took a couple of steps closer to each other, but there was still a wide berth when Stateira spoke. "You said earlier…about great wizards using their suffering as power…"

"That is correct."

She kept her eyes on his face despite how badly she wanted to look away. "Does that mean those who have greatly suffered could become the most powerful?"

"It is not a direct cause, but yes, there is a correlation. As I said previously, Grindelwald had quite a few troubles in his early life, as did Dumbledore. And, if I'm not mistaken, Alexander."

Stateira thought of her brother's hatred of the Blood Traitor, of the bombs and the hunger and the heatless winters. Then she remembered Riddle's words about Hogwarts being his home since his first year. "And so did you?" The question fell from her lips without circulating through her brain.

"Yes," Riddle said. "So did I."

She nodded, hypothesis confirmed. "Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Miss McElroy."

As she dragged her heavy, aching body through the corridors making prefect rounds, Stateira thought of Alexander again, of how his anger and ambition had propelled him to kill the great Albus Dumbledore. Surely there were other uses of magical strength, and she vowed to master at least a few of them.

AN:

-Aw, isn't Tom Riddle just so wonderful and kind? Heh. WRONG.

-Edwina3 will play a bigger role as the story progresses.

-Quote from The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore is taken directly from the one in canon, except I changed Rita to Francine.