Chapter Nine – Lord Voldemort

A loud crack broke the silence on a long, dark street, though no-one seemed to notice anything. Rowena knew they were near the place in which they were going to. She was still being held by Macnair. A few times she twisted to see if his grip had slackened but it hadn't, not even a millimetre. They came to a stop outside a large mansion and they all walked up to the door.

It opened of its own accord and they walked inside. They took Rowena to what appeared to be the living-room. Macnair let go of Rowena and he pushed her to her knees. 'Wait here,' he said gruffly.

Rowena did as she was told and she waited in the room alone. The Death Eaters had left and when they returned Rowena noticed they all took off their outer robes and masks. She could see all of their faces. She could only see two women in the room, the rest all appeared to be men. They all took turns of looking down at her. One of the women bent down and lifted Rowena's head by the chin.

Their eyes met. The woman was tall, thin and she had long black hair and thick, heavy-lidded eyes and she was extremely pallid. Her grey eyes looked into Rowena's and she smiled after a while.

'So, you're his daughter?' she said standing up.

She circled Rowena once before speaking again. 'I wondered what you would look like. This is not quite what I pictured. You're prettier than I thought you'd be.'

A man walked over and stood beside the woman. 'What do you think, Rod? Is she pretty?'

Rowena's eyes went to the man she addressed. He was a little taller than her, and his hair was dark and his skin was just a pale. He bent down and took a good looked at her. 'Yeah, she's alright,' he commented.

He stood back up and walked away. The woman cackled with happiness. She took a strand of Rowena's hair and twisted it around her index finger. Rowena couldn't help but wonder to herself if this woman was alright.

'Take your hand away from her,' said a cold voice.

All the Death Eaters in the room scrambled into position in a circle, the woman included. Rowena couldn't see the person speaking.

'You will show my daughter the same respect you give me.'

After a moment he came into view and Rowena looked up at him. She gasped audibly but Voldemort didn't look offended. He was tall, skeletally thin and his face and body was whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes, and his nose was flat as a snake's, with slits for nostrils. He reached down and placed on white hand under her chin gently.

'Stand up, my dear,' he said softly.

Rowena slowly stood up and she looked into her father's scarlet eyes. 'You look like I used to,' he commented.

Voldemort moved closer to her. Rowena didn't flinch. He then moved away and addressed his followers. 'I am proud that you found her and were able to bring her to me. Who has her wand?'

A tall man with long blonde hair and grey eyes stepped forwards, he held out his hand and handed it to Voldemort, who took it and examined it carefully. 'What is it?' he asked.

'It's yew and dragon heartstring,' Rowena said steadily.

'Interesting. Bellatrix,' Voldemort said quietly. 'Come here.'

The woman with black hair and heavy-lidded eyes looked at Voldemort, she seemed overjoyed with happiness. It flooded her face, her eyes lit up. She made her way to him effortlessly, as though she were floating on air. When reaching him she stopped.

'Give this back to my daughter.'

The happiness on Bellatrix's face disappeared. She took the wand in her hand and looked at Rowena. She slowly walked over and gave it back to her. Rowena looked it over before putting it in her pocket.

This surprised Voldemort. 'You're not going to fight me?'

'No,' she replied. 'I want to know why you wanted me here before I do anything.'

Voldemort laughed but it wasn't a taunting one. He was more surprised. 'I will admit that I am astounded. Though, I have good news, I'm not going to kill you. I just want to know about you and about your past. I want to know how alike we really are.'

The room went quiet and Voldemort looked around while Rowena kept her eyes on him. She wanted to know about him also. She was happy that she made the right choice in not using her wand. Besides, she wouldn't be able to take him and his followers on. She would most definitely lose. And there was no need to be hasty in this situation.

'I want my followers to stay here while my daughter and I go to my chambers. We are not to be disturbed for anything, unless an attack, which I highly doubt will happen.' He walked over to Rowena. 'Follow me, my dear.'

Rowena nodded and Voldemort left the room and she followed. They walked up two flights of stairs and walked to the end of the hallway. It was dark and the floor was covered in thick, dark green carpet and the walls were all painted white. Voldemort opened a grey coloured door and he held the door open for Rowena, she walked through and Voldemort then closed it behind her.

He took his wand out and locked the door, then he conjured up two black and comfortable looking armchairs. 'Please, sit down.'

Rowena nodded and she sat down. Voldemort then waved his wand again and conjured a table along with some Firewhiskey and two glasses. He poured it using his wand and he then sat down himself. He studied Rowena's face briefly.

'I don't even know your name, my dear,' Voldemort said smiling.

'It's Rowena,' she said quietly.

'Rowena,' he said thoughtfully. 'Tell me your full name.'

Rowena nodded. 'Rowena Merope Riddle,' she said quieter still.

'Who named you?' he asked stiffly.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted and Rowena could feel it. She wondered if he was angry about something. 'Albus Dumbledore named me. He raised me,' she replied.

Voldemort stood up and he strode to the other side of the room. Now Rowena knew he was angry. Voldemort began to pace the room and his eyes were narrowed. 'Tell me about your life,' he said firmly.

'Alright,' Rowena said slowly. 'Albus took me as a baby; I'm not sure how he found me or how he knew about me. He refused to tell me. I lived with him at his house in Godric's Hollow and when he was unable to his brother looked after me. When I was old enough I attended Durmstrang, I've only just graduated.'

'Why not go to Hogwarts?' asked Voldemort slowly.

'I wanted to at first but I know that Albus works there and I knew if I went to Hogwarts he would constantly watch me and I didn't want that.'

'Smart girl,' Voldemort commented. 'Merope was my mother's name.'

'I know,' Rowena said quietly. 'Albus told me.'

'Really…'

It went quiet again. Voldemort continued his pacing. Rowena decided to stay quiet and she picked up her drink and took a generous sip of it. 'What do you know of your mother?' he asked when Rowena put her glass down.

'She's dead,' Rowena said uninterestedly.

Voldemort turned sharply to look at his daughter. 'Really? How do you know that?'

'Albus told me,' she replied. With her tone, she sounded almost bored.

'I see,' Voldemort said quietly.

He walked over to Rowena and stood in front of her. Rowena stood up quickly and Voldemort look upon her face. He seemed please about something. 'You remind me of myself when I was young.'

Voldemort moved closer and he bent his head slowly and kissed Rowena on the cheek. His eyes glowed and his smiled disappeared. 'I want to show you something,' he announced.

Using his wand, he summoned a pensieve and he placed a few memories within it. 'Go in,' he prompted. 'Have a look.'

Rowena wasn't sure whether she wanted to look inside. These memories belong her father and she had no idea what he was going to show her. She took a deep breath and she held in before diving into the silvery pool. She felt herself fall and she landed on her feet in Albus' office at Hogwarts. She looked around. Only Albus was in the room, besides herself. Her father had not joined her.

The office looked the same here as it does now. Albus looked a little younger but Rowena wouldn't guess that it has been more than fifty years. Albus was sitting at his desk and he appeared to be waiting for something. Rowena then turned as the office door opened slowly and a tall figure entered the room. Rowena knew immediately that it was her father. He was wearing a long, black cloak and his eyes were glowing a dull scarlet. His face was pale and his cheeks were hollow and his eyes gaunt. Rowena's eyes went back to Albus, he had shown no surprise. It was evident that this visit had been made by appointment.

'Good evening, Tom,' said Albus easily. 'Won't you sit down?'

'Thank you,' Voldemort said, and he took a seat to which Albus had gestured – it was the very seat that Rowena had seen in his office when she was there in the present time. 'I heard you had become Headmaster,' he said, his voice was high and cold. 'A worthy choice.'

'I am glad you approve,' said Albus, smiling. 'May I offer you a drink?'

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

Albus stood from his seat and swept over to the cabinet which was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the 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,' he said. 'These days I am known as-'

'I know what you are known as,' said Albus, 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.'

He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, Rowena felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Albus' refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting and seeing it, Rowena could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

'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 the school.'

'Well,' said Albus, 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,' Voldemort said. 'I merely wondered why you – who is often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who has twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister-'

'Three times at last count, actually,' said Albus. 'But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think.'

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Albus did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.

'I have returned,' he 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 ask you 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 student's things they can gain from no other wizard.'

Albus considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking. 'Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us,' he said quietly. 'Rumours 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've been doing, do you?' asked Albus delicately.

'Certainly,' Voldemort said, 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,' Albus corrected him quietly. 'Of some. Of others, you remain… forgive me… woefully ignorant.'

For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage. 'The old argument,' he said softly. '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,' Albus suggested.

'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.'

Albus raised his eyebrows. 'And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves – or so rumour has it – Death Eaters?'

Rowena looked between the two men quickly. She could instantly tell that her father had not expected Albus to know this name; she saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again and the slit like nostrils flare.

'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 Albus. '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.'

There could be no doubt in Albus' detailed knowledge of those with whom he was travelling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once. 'You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore.'

'Oh, no, merely friendly with the local barmen,' said Dumbledore lightly. 'Now Tom…'

Albus set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture. '…let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?'

Rowena quickly looked at her father, whom 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 Albus. '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. His face seemed to change more, thick with rage. 'This is your final word?'

'It is,' Albus said, also standing.

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

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

For a second, Rowena thought she saw Voldemort's hand twitch towards his pocket and his wand; but then the moment had passed, Voldemort turned away, the door was closing and he was gone.

Rowena felt as though she had to remind herself to breathe. She looked back at the younger Albus; he was still staring at the back of the closed door. Rowena then felt a hand go around her arm. 'Let's go.'

The present day Voldemort took her back up to the surface and back to reality. When back in her father's chambers, he released her and Rowena walked away slightly. She wasn't sure what to think after seeing that.

'Which post were you after?'

'Defence Against the Dark Arts,' said Voldemort. 'Though, I had planned on changing the subject somewhat.'

'How?' Rowena asked.

Voldemort stopped and faced Rowena, looking at her. A small smile painted his lips. 'I would have made it more about the Dark Arts, rather than the defence of it.'

'Like at Durmstrang?'

'Yes,' Voldemort said slowly. 'Like at Durmstrang.'

Rowena was beginning to wonder if there was anything that he didn't know about. Well, maybe he knew nothing about love, but Rowena didn't know whether to believe until she saw it herself. With how he spoke and his actions, Rowena was questioning how alike they really are. It surprised Rowena, and she could understand why.

'Tell me how you killed your mother,' asked Voldemort, moving to his black armchair. He picked up a glass of Firewhiskey and he took a small sip.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Rowena replied softly.

'Now, now, don't be like that,' said Voldemort slyly. 'I have already sent a few of my Death Eaters to the crime scene and with the way the place was cleaned, it had to be done by someone magical. No Muggle could have cleaned the area so well.'

'Even if that's true, why would you suspect me?' Rowena asked.

'Because you and I are so alike. I killed my grandparents and my father. Who else would've wanted to kill your mother? Dumbledore? I highly doubt that's possible,' said Voldemort mockingly.

Rowena didn't know what to say now. He had her and he got her well. She still didn't think it wise to trust him right now; it wasn't the right time, if there ever was one. She would keep it to herself a little bit longer, so she retained her silence.

'Very well,' Voldemort said softly. 'I suppose you might talk later.'

Rowena frowned, was that a threat? She relaxed her face again quickly as her father stood up and placed his glass back onto its silver tray. 'I suppose you should meet my followers,' he said.

He adjusted his robes and headed for the door, unlocking it with his wand. He walked out noiselessly and Rowena sighed faintly and she followed.