Hello everyone! I am sorry, it's been some time, but I am still very busy and university asks a lot these days. Really, I shouldn't update this, but I couldn't help it :D Minerva and Tom were complaining :P This is a quite long chapter to compensate you for the long wait.
Thank you very very much for your amazing reviews, they made me finish this chapter quicker- thank you sarafina, Valentina, alexandra, Meg, Anjie, ASH (sorry I haven't replied to your reply, I'll do it soon) and Cos I'm Awesome (nice nickname by the way :D) !
Meg- there is a cut off date in Germany, too, and it seems now that we don't do it that differently, but I was quite a bit confused about how you handle things in the UK back then, so thank you for telling me :)
I am sorry if there are glaring mistakes in this chapter. I did not do a lot of proof-reading due to a lack of time- it's really late here and I really really have a few things I need to do for university, but I wanted to update this anyway. Please tell me if there are horrible mistakes. Please tell me your thoughts.
Sachita :-)
Chapter Eleven
Forbidden Forest, Summer 1941
A mouse was running across some twigs in the moonlit silence of the Forbidden Forest, its miniscule feet making noise inaudible for human ears but loud like drums in the ears of the cat sitting motionlessly in the shadows of the nearby bush. Its yellow eyes watched the mouse's process indifferently. The night hid its form largely from view; only the eyes that were glowing like lanterns remained visible.
The mouse, sensing some form of danger, stilled in its motions, round ears twitching nervously, the black eyes anxious. The hunter took a chance, lunged- and stilled suddenly.
Full of terror, the mouse scrambled away. The cat, on the other hand had stopped in the middle of its motion. It seemed confused. Its long whiskers trembled and in an oddly un-cat-like motion, the tabby cat put a paw on its nose, then sat still and closed its eyes, as if in the process of recalling something.
Something very odd happened then; the form of the cat seemed to dissolve and morph into something different. The mouse watched from underneath the roots of an ancient tree in frozen terror what was unfolding. Instead of fur, the cat now had hair, long dark hair that curled at the edges, a human face, long dark lashes that brushed over pale cheeks and hid vibrant eyes from view; long pale legs and arms. The mouse had seen enough. With a shrill squeak it disappeared in the treacherous safety of the Forbidden Forest.
Meanwhile, the girl that was lying there instead of the cat took a deep breath and opened her eyes, revealing a deep shade of green. For a while she could only lie there motionlessly, processing what had happened. How deeply intense the smells had been for a while there; the mouldy wet smell of moss, the dry wooden smell of the old oak's bark over there and the unique scent of a forest after a rain shower.
How alive everything had felt underneath her…her paws- soft compliant grass and the harsh texture of the bare earth…and then her ears! She had never heard so much at once before. The birds did not only sing, but their songs revealed so much more; experiences of a life that seemed short in the minds of humans but endless in those songs…even the ants had stories to tell, stories of hardship and never-ending diligence. She felt revered, awed, humiliated and honoured at the same time that she had been allowed to experience all this.
"June 15th, 1941," the girl mumbled quietly to herself, "and I finally made it. I, Minerva McGonagall, have mastered the animagus transformation." Minerva laughed softly, an oddly untroubled sound. If only her mother could see her now! Yes, it was in the middle of the night and she had probably broken just about a dozen rules, yes, she had twigs and leaves and god-knew-what in her hair, yes she might have eaten a mouse had she not managed to suppress the cat instincts in time- but she had made it! She had experimented and learned and studied hard over the summer to achieve this. So often she had not succeeded, had become angry at herself and increasingly taciturn at Poppy, had studied even harder as a result, had doubted herself and her abilities- and now she had made it.
The book Professor Dumbledore had given her had said that the animagus form a person morphed into reflected their inner character. A tabby cat- was she like that? Stealthy, certainly, light and quick, smart- cunning…The last thought made her frown because cunning sounded a whole lot like Slytherin- and she really did not want to think about Slytherin right now because it only reminded her of Tom. And she did not wish to think about Tom…she missed him.
Sometimes she thought the entire day of him; the way the light would catch on his hair and illuminate reddish highlights, the way his eyes lit up when he smiled one of his rare smiles, his dry wit and his brilliance, the way he'd say her name, making it sound wholesome and exotic at the same time…yet whenever her thoughts strayed in that direction, a pale face flashed in front of her eyes. She could close her eyes now and the face appeared- it was not Tom's face. Instead, Jonathan Davies's handsome yet pallid and fearful visage flashed past her eyes. No, she could not forgive Tom. He had crossed a line this time and for her own sake she needed to stay away from him.
Most of all though, she needed to know what he was up to, which had of course been the reason for her practicing becoming an animagus in the first place. She needed to become quiet and devious and she needed to train herself to become nigh invisible because oh, if Tom was anything , he was good. Myrtle had told her that Tom and some of his "followers" often disappeared for hours at a time. Dear Merlin, she only hoped that she wouldn't stumble across something gruesome for a part of her still wanted to forgive Tom…and she might find it in herself to forgive him if he apologised to Jonathan, but she knew she could never forgive him if he did something else…something horrible. The way he liked to talk about Muggles…what if he unleashed some of that hidden anger on the Muggleborns at the school?
Sucking in a small, apprehensive gasp, Minerva finally got to her feet. It had become cold and chilly. Slight wisps of fog crept from some bushes and encircled her bare legs. The sounds of the night did not seem as intriguing as before, only hostile and slightly creepy. She shuddered, gathered her skirt and drew her coat tightly around herself, before sneaking back to the castle across the Grounds.
Standing in the girls' washrooms that night she felt something funny between her teeth. Tentatively she reached into her mouth and withdrew a few odd pieces of something that she identified as cat fur. Staring at her reflection, she found herself shaking with silent laughter: "Yuck."
Professor Dumbledore's office, June 1941
"Ah, Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore greeted, looking up from a stack of exams he was grading as she entered, the intense blue eyes twinkling at her. "Please, take a seat."
Minerva sank down on a simple wooden chair in front of his desk, feeling oddly nervous. A question was trying to make its way over her lips, yet she couldn't bring herself to actually asking it. Checking herself, she dug her fingers into her thighs, leaving white indentations in the shapes of crescent moons.
"How are you today, Miss McGonagall?," the Professor asked her steadily, finally putting his papers away.
"Fine, Professor, thank you. I hope you are well also?" Merlin, she was stammering. For some reason what Tom had said about Dumbledore in the winter holidays was now coming back to her. Of course it was a load of tosh, but still it affected the way she was acting around the Professor now. Annoyed she realised that by thinking of Tom's words she was allowing him to indirectly gain the upper hand.
So she deliberately pasted a smile on her face as she met the Professor's searching look again. His next words had her again on edge though.
"Did you peruse that volume on Animagi I gave you this winter, Miss McGonagall?"
Minerva felt instant panic rise up within her. Did he know about her successful transformation? He wasn't supposed to, not yet. No one was, not until she had found out more about Tom's plans, for being an Animagus meant having to register with the Ministry. Since becoming an Animagus was a lengthy and difficult process it was rare that new Animagi got registered and as such her registration would hardly stay unnoticed.
"I did," she choked finally out. "It was a very interesting book."
Was there a hint of disappointment on the wise Professor's face now? Had he actually meant for her to become an Animagus? He knew how close she and Tom were, well, everybody knew after what had happened in front of the Great Hall…but did he expect her to use this knowledge? Did he expect her to spy on Tom?
"Miss McGonagall," the Professor said finally, leaning forward and folding his long hands while giving her an intent look. "I must ask you something which is of great importance. You and Mister Riddle have a good relationship. Do you feel he has been acting odd lately?"
"No," Minerva forced out. Yes, Tom had been acting odd, but Dumbledore's words seemed to simultaneously reinforce Tom's own theory- maybe the Professor really specifically had something against him. But why? The only ones who would have noticed Tom acting strangely were her and the Slytherins, but the latter were hardly going to say anything against their leader, now were they? She certainly hadn't mentioned anything. It was very hard to keep the distrust out of her eyes when she looked again at her favourite Professor.
"Will you tell me if something suspicious arises, Miss McGonagall?" he pressed on.
"Are you asking me to spy on Tom, Professor?" Minerva asked incredulously and this time, she knew, the disbelief was clearly audible in her voice.
"I wouldn't phrase it as such, Miss McGonagall," the Professor replied patiently, "but I shall only ask you to keep your eyes open. Can you do that for me?"
Minerva breathed deeply out. She would keep her eyes open but not necessarily for Professor Dumbledore's benefit. Although she supported his allegations that something was going on with Tom, she could not help but agree with the latter's hypothesis as well. Tom had truly never given Dumbledore cause to dislike him as far as she knew, so why did the Professor have such distrust towards him? Minerva didn't like it because Tom was for all his faults and darkness, first and foremost one of her dearest friends. No one attacked Minerva's friends. Not even Professor Dumbledore.
"I will keep my eyes open," she promised and for a moment, felt as insidious as a Slytherin. She would pay attention but she did not plan on reporting anything to Professor Dumbledore.
Suddenly the tension that had been hanging in the room dissipated. The Professor leaned back and smiled at her nearly fatherly.
"Very well, Miss McGonagall, then let's go on to discussing your career wishes. Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher?"
"No, sir, I haven't," Minerva replied defiantly although she had, but in this moment she really disliked Dumbledore and everything he stood for.
The Professor's face fell a little and he seemed oddly sad for a moment when he regarded her. Then, he sighed very quietly and privately. A second later it seemed as if she had been imagining things, for his usual sunny smile was back.
"Very well then. Before we continue, Miss McGonagall, would you care for a lemon drop?"
A few days later, Entrance to the Great Hall
"Minerva! Minerva! Minerva!"
"Yes, Myrtle?" Minerva replied, not unkindly. Myrtle seemed excited; she was beaming with all the might of her thirteen years.
"Your friend Poppy gave me this. It arrived with the usual mail at lunch. Why did you miss lunch again?"
"I was simply not hungry," Minerva told her, taking the proffered envelope. It was a lie, she had been hungry, but the house elves had been delighted to help her out. She tended to avoid the Great Hall these days, because Jonathan's terrified stares -if he dared to look – combined with Riddle's glares gave her headaches.
"You know," Myrtle gushed, taking Minerva's words at face value, "I was complimented on my spells today! By Professor Dumbledore." Surprisingly, for she was usually not one to thank others, Myrtle added a "That's only because of your tuition lessons, Minerva. Thank you!"
Minerva glanced up in bemusement. There was a genuine smile on Myrtle's face and her grey eyes were wide with excitement. She really meant it. "You are welcome, Myrtle."
"I got to go now, Minerva! I'll see you soon!"
"Bye," Minerva called after her as she disappeared in a mass of Ravenclaws. Myrtle might turn out to be a formidable Ravenclaw after all, she mused.
"So what did she do this time?" Poppy had appeared to her left, rusty-coloured locks immaculately combed and a mischievous look in her warm brown eyes. Minerva smiled at her. Poppy was always very neat, but this time she had taken things to extremes, making Minerva think that she would be meeting her boyfriend later on.
"Actually," Minerva paused and enjoyed the look of anticipation on Poppy's face, "she thanked me."
Poppy gasped. "She thanked you? Oh, my heart," she proclaimed dramatically.
Minerva laughed. Poppy had always been able to make her smile.
"Shall we meet up in the library after classes today?" Poppy asked. "I can question you about your Advanced Transfiguration, if you want to."
"Oh good Merlin! The OWLs!" Minerva gasped.
Poppy snorted. "Oh, don't tell me," she said, sidestepping a herd of Hufflepuffs who attempted to pass her, "you forgot about them because I don't believe you!" The last part had been a yell because now lunch was over and masses of pupils filled the corridors.
"Well, no," Minerva yelled back in genuine despair, "I forgot to learn today!"
"Good Merlin, Minerva." Poppy glared at her. "You study more than half the school does in two years! Relax, will you! You will do well." In an effort to distract Minerva, she asked finally: "What about, well, you know?"
"Nothing," Minerva sighed. The person they had been talking about happened to emerge from the Great Hall just then. He caught Minerva's look and she quickly forced herself to look away before she could get lost in Tom's intense stare.
"It will all turn out to be alright," Poppy said comfortingly and squeezed her arm. "I have to go, Minerva. See you later in the library!"
"Alright," Minerva replied loudly, watching as Poppy was swept up in the general chaos of screaming and laughing students. Then she too, turned around to get to her next class, Advanced Arithmancy.
While walking, she tore the envelope open. It was a letter from Abigail.
"Dear Minerva," it said in Abigail's scrawled handwriting, "You surely know that my mother has taken ill for I believe I mentioned it in my last letter to you."
That had Minerva frown, Abigail normally kept a quite remarkable track of what she had told Minerva and what she hadn't told her- the illness of her mother had certainly not been mentioned in the last letter. Also, the complete lack of the usual introductory phrases told its own story about Abigail's mental state.
"Ever since father passed away two years ago it's been increasingly difficult for Mother. Some say she has lost the will to live. Michael is thankfully here to support me and sometimes Mrs. Goodie, the wife of the butcher- I am sure you do remember her- comes by to lend assistance to us in the shop. Of course it's not a situation that can last forever and we all know that but at present I see no other way. It's difficult being the only woman in the house. Each night I fall in my bed dead tired. But I do not want to complain. Michael is being a dear, of course, but he lacks experience in the work only women would know. Sometimes it all gets too much. Also I fear that Michael might be drafted. Whatever would happen to Mother and me? Oh Minerva, I hope this letter finds you in better spirits than I am in at this moment.
All my love,
Abigail."
Oh, poor, poor Abby. Minerva was already thinking of ways how to best help her, when the sharp voice of Professor Shihab, her Arithmancy Professor, interrupted her.
"Do you plan on standing there the entire day Miss McGonagall? Or would you care to take a seat and grace us with your attention?"
Minerva went beet red, noticing that she was standing motionlessly in the middle of the classroom with the letter clutched in her fist. "Of course, Professor."
Hogwarts, Forbidden Forest, Summer 1941
The cat's paws barely made any sound as it quickly hushed through the moonlit shadows of the trees. This cold summer night felt alien to her, foreign even.
The bushes swayed like forbidding monsters and every breeze in the trees sounded like a vengeful ghost intent on getting to her. The cat's fur rippled as it turned, in indecision, gazing toward the lights of the castle that were shining through the silhouettes of some trees.
A sudden rustling sound in the trees next to her alerted her. There was someone! Who? And where?
Again, a sound. The cat tensed, for it had sounded like the snapping of teeth.
Shuddering, she turned to her right. Yellow eyes stared back at her from out of the darkness.
The cat screamed.
Tom had snuck out of the castle late at night, but he himself preferred the term "temporarily seeking reprieve outside". Having a middle-sized viper as a pet sometimes created certain obstacles, for the snake needed to be fed, needed to hunt live animals and there were few in Hogwarts who understood a snake's needs for few had snakes as pets.
But Tom understood his snake. She was an elegant green snake, extravagant and very much a grande dame in a way, completely loyal in another. The snake was his trusted friend, his most loyal follower. She was called Nagini, not a name Tom had chosen, but a name Nagini herself had chosen. She had told him so when he had discovered her, on a sunny day at the Thames where the orphanage matron had taken them to in one summer for a few days.
Tom remembered vividly when he had first discovered he could talk to snakes- it had been in 1933, when he had been six years old and a common smooth snake had been dozing on the stones in the sun behind the orphanage…
Near Wool's Orphanage, London, Summer 1933
"I wish I could be like you," the dark-haired pale boy told the snake dozing in the sun, small face smeared with tears. He had barely escaped this time. They had hunted him all through the orphanage, Dennis Bishop who was a few years older than him leading them, calling him freak for he had made the windows explode the day before. But he hadn't meant to! Thankfully there had been an opened window and he had been able to climb outside quickly and run away, albeit earning bruised knees in the process.
The snake raised its head and hissed, but Tom wasn't afraid. This snake was of the non-venomous kind, he had read up on them in the huge volume of Brehm's Life of Animals, a book with faded golden letters he had found in the orphanage's attic. They had never bothered to look for him in the attic before that was why he was often up there.
"Oh, don't make such a fuss," he told the snake superiorly. "You are non-venomous, I read up on you."
The snake seemed to cock its head. "You are a smart little boy."
Tom blinked, turning around, looking for the owner of the voice in slight panic. There was no one. Puzzled he turned back to the snake.
There was a sigh. "Or maybe not."
Tom's eyes grew wide. "Did you just talk to me?"
"No. You are hearing voices." The voice sounded a little annoyed.
"It was you," Tom accused.
A little noise that sounded like hissing laughter came. "Of course it was me, lad. So pray tell me, why would you want to be like me?"
Tom decided that he'd give up on being confused by the snake. So maybe he was crazy, it was what everyone told him all day long anyway. Completely unafraid, he ran his small hand over the smooth brown scales of the snake, which felt surprisingly dry and sun-warmed.
"You can just lie in the sun and enjoy the day," he told the snake sadly. "They don't call you freak. You don't have to run so they don't hurt you."
The snake hissed sympathetically. "A couple of boys tried to attack me yesterday with stones, but I was able to frighten them and chase them away. Normally, humans don't like me either."
Tom and the snake sat outside for the entire day, trading stories. The little boy had never felt so accepted before. In the evening, when it was time to sneak back inside before they closed the gates, the snake told him: "Come back tomorrow, laddie. I enjoyed talking to you."
And that was what Tom did, nearly every other day he met the snake in the sunny spot beyond the orphanage, until one day when the same cruel bullies from the orphanage killed his friend with a few well-aimed stones. Tom vowed to get revenge on them on that day.
And he had…oh he had…
Hogwarts Grounds, Summer 1941
Tom was shaken out of his thoughts when Nagini returned. "Nagini," he asked, "did you find something to eat? Can we go back to the castle?"
"No, Master," Nagini hissed, a title she insisted on calling him, but which Tom had come to appreciate, "I found something else. I found a girl. At the edge of the forest."
"A girl?" Tom furrowed his brow.
"Yes. It's that girl you spend so much time with."
"Minerva?" Tom asked and a hint of apprehension crept into his voice. He could feel his heart beating to his throat when Nagini confirmed it.
Minerva hadn't talked to him for nearly five months, ever since that incident with that insufferable Jonathan Davies. Tom found that he couldn't stand it anymore. His plans were incoherent without her, nothing seemed to work. Even his grades had started to suffer from his inattention, not really noticeably, of course, but enough so that it was noticeable for Tom. He hated it, hated how much it showed his dependency on her, but yes, he needed her back. If only so that he could stop thinking about her silence and start concentrating on the important matters again.
"Where is she?" he asked tensely.
"Follow me, Master," Nagini replied and slithered through the high grass, Tom running to keep up with her.
Minerva was lying at the edge of the forest, her face horribly pale, dark hair splaying out over the grass. Her clothes were slashed at her right side, as if a large animal had dug its claws into her body. Tom fell to his knees beside her and put a hand to her waist, gasping upon seeing that it came away red.
"Minerva," he whispered and he didn't even try to conceal the tremor in his voice.
She was so awfully pale. He brushed a few dark strands out of her face, icy shivers racing down his spine. "Who did this to you?"
"Shouldn't you be getting her to the hospital wing?" Nagini asked matter-of-factly.
"Yes," Tom said, trying to gather himself. He attempted to hoist Minerva up in his arms, but failed, sending them both tumbling into the grass again. Minerva didn't even stir.
"Master, you are a wizard," Nagini again, and this time she sounded amused even though Tom had no reason to share in her amusement.
"Right," he muttered, unable to say anything else.
With a simple levitating spell he made Minerva's limp body float ahead of him as he hurried back to the castle, Nagini wrapped around his shoulders. At the side door he had used to sneak out of the castle he glanced back at the dark mass of the Forest. A forbidding howl resounded. Tom quickly turned away.
Madam Yuhe was, of course, out of her mind with worry when Tom came knocking at her door so late at night. "What-"She caught sight of Minerva's limp body and gasped. "Come on."
"Where did you find her?" Madam Yuhe asked over her shoulder, her wizened face creased in worry.
"Outside," Tom explained vaguely, having no wish to tell her that he'd been so close to the Forbidden Forest. They'd get in enough trouble as it was anyway for being outside so late.
Tom followed her and gently lowered Minerva to one of the simple white beds in a secluded corner of the hospital wing. He looked at her and lightly brushed her hair out her face. There was a piece of fur in her fist, Tom noted bemusedly and he carefully disentangled her fingers around it. It was soft fur, not unlike that of felines. Tom shook his head- odd- and acting on impulse pocketed the piece of fur.
The Mediwitch was meanwhile bustling about, turning on the old-fashioned bedside lamps with the golden pedestals with a flick of her wand, gathering her supplies and trying to put her long hair into a braid at the same time. Tom was annoyed at her actions because Minerva was lying right there and the Mediwitch was fixing her hair!
"Madam Yuhe," he said tightly.
She turned to him as if seeing him for the first time. "What are you still doing here, Mister Riddle? Let me do my work. You can't do anything for her now. Come back tomorrow."
Reluctantly, Tom left the hospital wing. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the Mediwitch was starting to remove Minerva's clothes, revealing smooth creamy skin. Hastily, he looked away, his face burning.
Nagini was waiting for him outside. "What do we do now, Master?"
Tom didn't even think about his words before he said them. "We devise a plan to get Minerva back," was all he said.
"Is that wise?" his trusted companion queried simply.
Tom shot her a glare. "Don't question my decisions, Nagini," he said sternly yet quietly. "I need her for my plan, that's all you need to know. The first thing I need to do is to tell Avery that the meeting should be adjourned to next week so I can think about this without his or any of the others' nagging."
What he didn't even admit to himself though, was that he needed Minerva not only for his plans. Mostly, he just needed her for his own sake.
A few days later, Hospital Wing
Tom felt as if he was being questioned by all His Majesty's Courts at once. The Head of the House of Slytherin, Professor Slughorn was standing next to Professor Dumbledore, the Head of the House of Gryffindor, Madam Yuhe was hovering in the background, nervously fiddling with her long black braid and Headmaster Dippet stood a little off at the side. Altogether, they formed a somewhat intimidating display, but Tom refused to be intimidated.
Minerva had been propped up in her bed, a mass of pillows holding her half-upright. She was still very pale, but her hair that had hung lankly around her face for the last few days when she had been sleeping and Tom had come to visit her was now falling in glossy locks to her waist. Her green eyes were alert and she had even regained colour in her cheeks. Tom wondered if she knew how perfect she was to him as he gazed at her from his position on a chair next to her bed.
"Mister Riddle." His attention was brought back to the Professors when Dippet spoke. Tom gazed at the old man, feeling a twinge of annoyance. The Headmaster had a confused way of talking, meandering without any clear aim. Tom had never enjoyed listening to him. He thought him tedious.
"Where exactly did you find Miss McGonagall?"
"Outside," Tom told him doggedly.
"Could you specify that?" Dumbledore. Ah, how much he despised him, a feeling he knew was duly reciprocated.
"Near the Forbidden Forest. "Minerva had spoken up. Tom tried to resist the urge to give her an annoyed glare. They'd be in trouble now, for sure.
"What were you doing there?" Dippet's voice was uncommonly sharp. "Surely, as a Prefect, Miss McGonagall, you know that pupils are forbidden to go there." He gazed at Tom, who gazed back steadily. "What about you, Mister Riddle?"
Dumbledore interfered. "Ah, Armando," he said with a slight smile, "I am afraid Miss McGonagall was near the Forbidden Forest because of me." Tom quickly looked at Minerva and saw that she was looking as confused as he felt. The teachers, he noticed, were all looking at Dumbledore with rapt attention.
Dumbledore though merely said: "We'll have to talk later about it, Armando."
"Of course," Dippet acknowledged and Tom once again marvelled how much power the Professor seemed to have over Dippet. But why? And how had he come to have that power? Was it simply because of Dumbledore's abilities that Dippet was in awe of? Tom decided he'd have to find out more.
"What about you, Mister Riddle?" Dumbledore suddenly asked sharply and Tom was abruptly brought back to the present. Tom had known that this moment had come and he had already devised a strategy- this time it was telling the truth.
"I am sure Tom here-, "Slughorn started congenially, but was cut off by Dumbledore: "Please, Horace, I would appreciate Mister Riddle telling us about it himself."
"My pet snake," Tom said, lowering his eyes in false shame. "She was hungry. I had forgotten to let her hunt during the day so I-"
"You snuck out during the night, I see," Dumbledore interrupted. Tom felt his anger rise. What right did Dumbledore have to interrupt him, to treat him so disrespectfully! He wasn't mollified, when the old fool gave a smile that was probably supposed to be conspiratorial: "Well, Tom, I suggest taking care of your snake's needs in a timely manner next time. Seeing that you saved Miss McGonagall here, I suggest Professor Slughorn will see to it that your punishment is a minor one."
Tom gave him a false smile back. "Thank you, sir." He very nearly groaned though at the thought of Slughorn's punishment, it would probably include half an hour of animated conversation wherein the Professor complimented his own and Tom's achievements. But it did help that he was Slughorn's model student and he knew it, giving Slughorn a polite smile as well. Slughorn smiled back widely and Tom suppressed a shudder. Goodness gracious.
"Well, to conclude this," Dumbledore said, "don't go out in the forest alone anymore, both of you. The wolves are not the only dangerous animals there," he added, lowering his eyes behind the half-moon glasses in warning as he referred to the animal that had attacked Minerva.
"Yes, sir," they both muttered contritely.
Nagini chose that moment to peek out of Tom's robes and Dippet reared back, while Madame Yuhe approached with great interest. Dumbledore didn't react at all and neither did Slughorn or Minerva, the latter because she had been introduced to Nagini already years ago. Tom suppressed another sigh.
"May I see your snake?" the Mediwitch asked vigorously. "It's a beautiful exemplar of a python."
"I'll bite her if she comes too close," Nagini hissed viciously. Tom held her tightly, feeling her struggles. Oh, he'd get hell for that later for sure.
"I am sorry, Madame, I don't feel that this is a good idea," he said politely. "She is very shy."
"Shy?" Nagini raged. "I'll give you shy!"
Dumbledore was giving one of his damned twinkling-eyes-smiles and Tom was seething. How dare he laugh at Nagini. He tightened his hold on the snake. Nagini was protesting and he ignored her.
"Well, I daresay this was all," Dumbledore announced finally. "Shall we go? A good day to you, Mister Riddle, Miss McGonagall."
Tom didn't acknowledge him; he could feel the black rage simmering in the pit of his stomach.
When the teachers were gone and Madam Yuhe had disappeared in her office, Tom turned to Minerva. She seemed tired.
"You should rest," he advised.
Minerva's eyes flashed fire. "You shouldn't tell me what to do."
Ah, he had missed her spirit. He truly had. "I am not."
"This changes nothing," Minerva mumbled finally, "but thank you for saving me."
Tom looked at her, willing none of the stormy emotions he felt to show on his face. "You are welcome."
The next words were very hard and he had to work around his own pride that nearly made him choke. "I-I apologised to Jonathan. He is back to normal now. And- and I am- well, sorry." He refused to look at her. His own words seemed to mock him.
"Oh Tom," Minerva whispered. As he looked at her he saw that there were unshed tears shining in her eyes. "You did this for me?"
Tom scowled. He didn't want to admit another weakness.
Minerva smiled a little knowing smile which made Tom scowl some more. How he hated his dependency on her, but he could not let go of her either.
"Thank you," she said finally simply.
Eventually it became too hard to keep up the act, even for Tom, the master of pretences. "You scared me," he confessed and he allowed his head to sink on the stark white sheets of her bed. "Please don't do whatever you did to end up here again. I don't even want to know."
He'd find out anyway.
"Please just don't do it again," he muttered into the crinkly material of the sheets.
Her hand combed through his thick hair and he allowed himself to enjoy it for a while. Her touch was gentle and reassuring in a way, making him sleepy. Through the slight doze he sank into, he heard her voice only distantly: "I won't, I promise." Then she added even quieter: "We haven't been talking for a long while, haven't we? Thank you for rescuing me. You, too, Nagini." This time, her thanks sounded genuine.
Nagini hissed in approval and Tom didn't lift his head as he replied into the mattress, his voice slightly muffled: "We haven't been talking, Minerva, but I can't fault you for it."
"How have things been in London?"
Tom suppressed an involuntary shudder. Burning houses momentarily flashed past his eyes.
"As you know, I haven't been back there ever since you took me to your house in November. But it's been bad. The attacks have started to become less frequent in the last weeks though, so they hope they'll stop." He pressed his face in the bed sheets, remembering with aching clarity the small girl's face he'd seen, her small body crushed by heaps of burning rubble. How cruel humans could be. And how his own helplessness had nearly suffocated him. He would never be as vulnerable as that again.
"I am so sorry, Tom," Minerva told him softly, her voice subdued, probably because she remembered that nightmarish 29th of December the year before. "But I promise you, nothing like last night will happen again. I was just out for a walk, you know. It was foolish but I couldn't sleep and I was upset…because of the whole affair between you and me…and also because of my family, but it doesn't matter now."
Ah, Minerva, how well you can lie, Tom thought sleepily. Aren't we both fabulous liars? But he had her back and that was all that counted now.
Professor Dumbledore's Office, Early July 1941
"I thought we established a basis of trust between us Miss McGonagall."
Minerva gasped at the Professor's harsh words. Nervously she raised her eyes to his and winced at the burning disappointment clearly written on Professor Dumbledore's wise face.
"I do trust you, Professor," she replied hastily, her cheeks burning, unsure about what he expected of her.
"Then why did you lie to me?" He was frowning, an uncommon occurrence for all his usual good cheer, which served as a mask as well. Minerva was thoroughly aware of this but he rarely let it drop in front of his students. He had never been as forward and nearly accusing to her as on this day.
"Please, take a seat," the Professor added shortly. "Your recovery is going well, I trust?"
"It is," Minerva replied tentatively, "thank you for asking, sir."
Dumbledore sat down opposite of her, his blue eyes serious. "I am sorry for having been so harsh to you, Miss McGonagall, but I'd like to ask you to confirm a theory of mine."
"Confirm" didn't sound too good, Minerva thought. It implied an honest answer. Suddenly she was disgusted with herself. What was she doing? This was Professor Dumbledore, her favourite professor, her mentor, her idol. Surely she could trust him? Her thoughts had become so oddly Slytherin-like in the last months, hadn't they? The thought made her quiver and bite her lip so hard that she could taste blood.
"Of course, sir."
"You did more than simply read that book on Animagi I gave you, didn't you?"
Minerva felt oddly conflicted, but finally she gave herself a push. She could do this and as such, she raised her head and stammered out a shaky "Yes".
Curiously enough, the Professor folded his hands over his long beard, leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. Minerva stared at him and she was sure her bewilderment and apprehension were now clearly visible on her face.
"I doubted that you would go in the Forbidden Forest all by yourself, Miss McGonagall, moreover in the middle of the night. So it left me with the conclusion that you had to be undisturbed, maybe in order to try something. This wolf, although it was a magical one and not a common one, would probably never dream of attacking a human when it's on its own. Wolves tend to hunt in packs. So the only logical conclusion of all this would be that you did indeed succeed at becoming an Animagus."
Minerva could only stare at him. "You knew?" she asked finally weakly.
"Oh, I hoped you would manage to become an Animagus."
"In order to spy on Tom," Minerva finished for him and she didn't even try to conceal her anger now.
"We've talked about this before, Miss McGonagall," the Professor said finally. "I am concerned for Mister Riddle. I don't wish to put him under investigation, but I know a lot of what goes on in this castle and I know that Mister Riddle's life has been a quite hard one for someone so young. As his friend, Miss McGonagall- Minerva-, "she started a little at this quite personal usage of her name –
"I would only like you to look out for him. He has a lot of potential and please don't think I am either his or your enemy. I would only like seeing you two starting out on the right path, because you are both some of the most promising students this school has seen for a long time."
Minerva couldn't reply for a long moment. It was certainly a lot to take in. Quietly and quite subdued she finally replied: "Do you really think Tom has evil intentions or dabbles in the Dark Arts?"
Dumbledore regarded her for a long moment. He seemed very sad and also rather resigned. "I happen to know a bit of Mister Riddle's living conditions as I am sure you do, too. I don't think he has evil intentions. All I see, to be completely honest with you, Minerva, because I trust you- all I see is a very confused and bitter boy, who has been hurt too often in his life, who has a brilliant mind but who could easily end up on a wrong path."
Minerva sighed heavily. "I will look out for him, sir, I promise."
"That's all I could have asked of you," Dumbledore answered and the smile was back. "In the meantime I suggest we keep your successful Animagus transformation a secret between the two us. I certainly told a wild enough tale about your being in the Forbidden Forest to the Headmaster to warrant it." His eyes were twinkling and soon enough Minerva was chuckling along with him.
"So tell me, out of curiosity," Dumbledore added, his eyes still alit with mirth, "What form does your animagus take?"
"A tabby cat, sir," Minerva replied earnestly.
"A tabby cat," Dumbledore mused, "did you know that cats were revered and worshipped as goddesses in Ancient Egypt? It's quite a fascinating thing actually. According to the legends, there were cats who could transform to humans. Maybe they were animagi themselves? It's certainly a very respectable and honourable form of an animagus, Miss McGonagall, and those cats in Ancient Egypt are a very interesting field of study."
"I am sure they are, sir," Minerva replied, smiling at him. The flames were roaring in Dumbledore's fireplace and the red and golden tones his office was decorated in, made her think of Gryffindor Tower and of a place where she could feel at home. The feelings of tenseness and apprehension she had had before were gone now, but they were not forgotten. In the back of her mind, they kept nagging at her, reminding her of long cold corridors and a distinct feeling of imminent bale.
Quidditch Pitch, Mid-July 1941
"Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!" The red-golden mass of pupils screamed, but their screams were countered in an equally loud volume with "Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!" shouts from the crowd of green and silver-clad Slytherins situated on the stands opposite.
The Gryffindor seeker suddenly started out in a neck-breaking dive, a mere blur of gold and scarlet, and the cheers got louder as the crowd realised the significance of it. The Slytherin Seeker had realised it too and so he followed the Gryffindor Seeker and- there was a face in front of her binoculars and a voice in her ear: "Minerva."
Annoyed, she lowered the binoculars and saw Tom, standing right next to her, face set in a bored look. Still, his appearance delighted her and caused her to feel a slight pang of guilt. Ever since she had had that scary encounter with the wolf in the forest- she still didn't know how she had escaped, the only thing she remembered running and then a lot of darkness- and ever since he had apologised to Jonathan Davies, she couldn't help that feel that her worries about what he got up to otherwise were unfounded. But then she remembered her conversations with Dumbledore and the spider incident and the feelings were back tenfold. Besides, could she be sure that the apology regarding Davies had been a sincere one? So many questions and so few answers.
"Tom," she eventually acknowledged. "Are you sure you shouldn't be over there?" She pointed over to the Slytherins.
"No," Tom drawled, "I came to look for you and unless something has fundamentally changed I would expect you to be here."
A few of her classmates turned at the sound of Tom's voice. "A bloody Slytherin," Justin Miller, whose superiority complex hadn't changed much in the last three and a half years, hissed. "Yeah," Andrew McFadden chimed in, "what are you doing here?"
Tom raised a cool eyebrow and turned to Minerva, completely ignoring the two. "So, are you coming with me?"
"What, now?" she asked at the same time as Justin, who was outraged at having been ignored by Tom, said in a louder volume: "Didn't you understand us? Get lost before we show you what Gryffindor loyalty really means!" Turning to Minerva, he added a nasty "And why are you spending time with those Slytherin bastards? Aren't we good enough for Her Royal Highness anymore?"
Tom had remained absolutely calm, but as Justin started to insult Minerva, his eyes flashed dangerously.
Before Justin could have even thought of reacting, a wand was placed at his throat: "I am warning you, Miller," Tom hissed lowly, "to keep your opinions to yourself if you value being able to voice them."
Justin stumbled back a few steps, his face underneath the freckles going very pale.
"I have met a few bullies in my life," Tom continued sweetly, "and so far they have all regretted the encounter. Would you like me to add your name to the list?" The last question had been asked in a very casual manner, as if Tom was inquiring whether the physician appointment would be better adjourned to next week. Justin went from pale to a red resembling the colour of his hair and again to pale in a matter of seconds. "No," he stuttered.
"Good," Tom said and offered his arm to Minerva, "shall we go, Minerva?"
Minerva didn't take his arm, but she stepped past him and went quickly down the stairs to reach the exits. Behind her, she could hear a low hiss of Andrew: "God, I swear that bloke's a nutter."
Tom followed behind Minerva, giving no sign that he'd heard Andrew or that he was offended at Minerva's refusal of taking his arm.
Outside, Minerva stopped and took a deep breath. It was a curious thing how Tom could affect her so much, have her change from being delighted at his appearance to being furious at him. "I am perfectly capable of standing up for myself," she said through clenched teeth.
"Are you?" Tom challenged.
"Please," she spat, "only because you saved me doesn't mean that I am your personal damsel in distress!"
"No," Tom protested, "I do know that. I've seen you stand up to that prat Miller enough times to know that you are. Every single inhabitant in this castle quivers before the fearsome prefect Minerva! Oh god, the fearsome prefect Minerva is coming around the corner, everyone, quickly, find a place to hide. No, it doesn't matter a thing that it's a drawer you have to squeeze yourself in, mate, because it's really high time to disappear!"
He proclaimed everything very dramatically, yet so earnestly and his London accent that had become a bit stronger throughout the whole thing made the whole speech sound so endearing to Minerva's ears that she couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing.
"You, Tom," she gasped, "are impossible."
He gave her a flat look, but then a triumphant smile crossed his face and Minerva knew why; he had achieved a certain victory over her, hadn't he?
She refused to acknowledge it; sometimes it all seemed to be too much of a game to him.
"You needn't have been so hard on him though," was all that she said, amusement slowly dying down as she remembered the dangerous look flashing in his eyes.
"Oh come on," Tom was still in good spirits. "You have to admit, it was pretty entertaining to watch him turn the same colour as his hair. Plus, don't tell me you would have liked to watch that game to the very end."
"As a matter of fact," Minerva protested, "I would have liked to."
"Why?" Tom asked, sounding disgusted. "Those Quidditch games remind me of the soccer games held in London from time to time. Just another form of mass mobilisation, where the individuals are subject to a form of mind manipulation, that makes the lesser-minded among them do just about anything for the association they are members of. In a way, it's quite astonishing to see how something mundane as soccer can make rationally-minded humans end up as enemies. But then again, I suppose, human beings need a form of enemies, don't they? Someone they can rage against, someone who they can blame their poor living conditions on. Sports are just another form of war, if carried out with other means."
"Aren't you taking this metaphor a little far?" Minerva asked incredulously, raising a thin eyebrow.
Tom smiled. "Think about it and you'll notice I'm right."
Minerva snorted. "Because you are always right."
"Exactly." Tom sounded bored.
"Well, I beg to differ, Tom," Minerva inserted. "I do agree with your assessment in parts. But I firmly believe that you can enjoy sports and you don't necessarily end up viewing the other team as enemy."
"Oh," Tom smiled, showing white teeth, taking her arm and starting to lead her towards the Hogwarts Grounds, "really? You are a great friend of Slytherins then?"
"No," Minerva sighed. Discussing with Tom was always a quite strenuous affair. "But you have to admit that it is a pretty mutual form of dislike."
"I guess so," Tom admitted, his eyes dancing with mirth, "but wouldn't you also agree, that Miller and McFadden are representatives of the exact group of people I've just described to you before? They are like sheep and they always need a clear distinction between enemy and friend. But you are definitely not like them, Minerva. You can differentiate. You know that there is black and there is white, but you are also aware of the area of grey in between. That's what I like about you."
His lips were suddenly close to her ear and his hot breath tickled her neck. Minerva shivered at his proximity. Small tingles raced down her spine and she closed her eyes against the glare of the summer sun and her own unsteadiness. Tom smiled slowly and pressed his lips against her neck.
"Come on," he murmured, "let's sit down for a while."
Minerva shook off his spell and followed him, sitting down next to him in the high grass of the meadow a few metres away from the dark water of the lake lying silent in the midday sun. From a distance, they could hear the cheers and screams from the Quidditch pitch. "Gryffindor won!" it resounded and Minerva smiled happily. Tom seemed indifferent. For a while they were both silent, each lost in their own thoughts, then Minerva withdrew a book from her bag, remembering her Charms essay for the next day with a pang of guilt.
"I am glad that the OWLs are over," Tom stated.
She shot him a sideways look through a few bangs of dark hair that obstructed her sight. "Why?"
"Well," Tom pointed out, reclining and stretching his long legs out, "you were insufferable the months before you took them. When are you due to get the results? Next week?"
"Yes," Minerva replied tightly, refraining from pointing out that they had barely spoken the months before the OWLs, a feeling of anxiety unfurling in her gut when she thought of the OWL results- the whole Animagus business and her injury had made her take the OWL exams in a nearly absent-minded manner last week. She only hoped that it wasn't visible at the results.
"Oh stop fussing," Tom complained. "I am sure you'll do well." He had picked up a few stones and was flinging them into the lake, his robe lying in a dark puddle in the grass behind him. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt and was now concentrating on throwing the flattish stones in the exactly right angle so they would end up skipping over the water.
Minerva glanced at him. A slight breeze had come up and offset his aim. Tom swore quietly, when one of his stones plummeted in the water. She snorted. "You really take this seriously, don't you?"
"The angle needs to be about twenty degrees," he replied, all sincerity, tongue sticking out between his teeth. "It's very hard to approximate it with this damnable wind coming up. The water isn't calm anymore."
Minerva laughed at him, but was completely ignored.
"You know," Tom said suddenly, still concentrating on his stones, "the reason I wanted to talk to you was because of Professor Slughorn." Minerva furrowed her brow. "Professor Slughorn?"
"Yes," Tom answered with a quiet sigh. A crease had appeared between his eyebrows. "He invited me to join his so-called club today, telling me I was a smart one." He shot a quick sideways look at her, stating dryly, "I already knew that of course, I wouldn't have needed him telling me."
"You are not sure of yourself at all, are you, Tom?" Minerva asked rhetorically, but was ignored when Tom went on smoothly, "Well, and I need a partner for the next party he arranges. So I would like to ask you to come along."
Minerva smiled, enjoying the easy banter. "Sorry to disappoint you, Tom."
His head snapped around to her, disbelief written clearly on his face. Minerva enjoyed it for a few seconds, then said: "I might have got an invitation to the party myself yesterday. So in turn I would like to ask you to accompany me, seeing that I was invited a day earlier."
Tom looked astonished for a few seconds more, then he broke out into a wide carefree grin. "Well then, my Lady…I would like to say yes." Quietly, he added: "You bested me, Minerva. But don't think you can claim the next victory, too."
"Thank you, sir," Minerva mock-curtsied and added a mischievous: "I wouldn't even dream of it."
Tom scoffed at her sarcasm, but the mirth remained in his eyes. He was really in a good mood on this day, Minerva thought, and wondered whether it was something else that had happened…something to do with whatever he got up to. No, she wouldn't think of that now and she shoved the dark thoughts away, concentrating again on her Charms book.
A few minutes later she was rudely interrupted. A head had appeared in her line of sight, obstructing the sight on the book lying on her lap.
"You do realise that I am not your pillow," Minerva stated in a half-amused, half-irritated manner when Tom uncoordinatedly attempted to place his head in her lap, but ended up with his face pressed into her book about Advanced Charms.
"Mrgh," Tom told her, accomplishing the impossible by making that monosyllabic sound actually dignified. Then he removed the book from her lap only to settle down again. "Better. Be a good pillow and be quiet. On second thought, you could give me a head massage."
"Presumptuous, aren't we?" Minerva grumbled, but when Tom blinked innocently up at her with those wide blue eyes of his, Minerva had no other choice but to comply. When she began to run her fingers through his raven locks, Tom yawned and slurred something about being "reaaaally tired", then closed his eyes.
Minerva blinked against the hot glare of the midday sun, the heat making her drowsy, yet she did not stop her ministrations. There was a kind of complacent silence hanging over the Hogwarts Grounds on this midsummer day, only interrupted by the quiet sounds of the lake's water gently lapping against the shore, some ducks squawking quizzically…After long silent thought about everything and nothing at once- but oh, it was hard to think clearly on such a warm, lazy day- Minerva dropped her gaze to look again at Tom.
He was breathing deeply and regularly and his head had become quite heavy in her lap. Tom Riddle had well and truly fallen asleep in her presence. Minerva marvelled at the fact that he had let go of his iron control like that. Intrigued she looked down at him.
Tom's hair had a certain reddish tint in the sun and the black strands gleamed like some kind of expensive silk. There were a few pale freckles scattered over his nose and Minerva thought that they were so pale that you could only see them up this close. Tom's long eyelashes rested on his pale cheeks, hiding the expressive eyes from view- eyes that could transform from being as cold and distant as a lake in winter to the stormy and intense scenery of the sea in the throes of an autumn storm.
He had high cheekbones and a finely-structured face, thin lips and an elegantly-chiselled nose. His slender black eyebrows that could convey his dry wit so well were still now. Minerva pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Tom stirred, but he did not wake.
He was so trusting in his sleep, lying there sun-warmed and still in her lap that Minerva felt an odd sort of realisation rise up within her. She had never experienced love before, but this might just be it. It was an intense feeling that washed all rational thought away as she gazed down at Tom. She wanted to hold him, cherish him and be there for him at all times. Wasn't this love? It had to be.
Elated and apprehensive at the same time Minerva continued to gaze down at him as she finally admitted to herself what she knew was true- she, Minerva McGonagall was irrevocably and utterly in love with one Tom Riddle.
tbc :)
