Dust settled on Anastasia Gregorovitch's shoulders as the attic door fell open with a clang. She'd been a wee child the last time she was here in Austria to visit her grandparents and great grandparents. She'd never been very close to them. But to return only to see the remaining debris of her late Gramma's life still wrung her heart.

Anastasia buried her face into Dimitri's chest. He held her close, so warm and comforting, as she took a deep breath before facing the door again. "Here we go." Her voice shook a little.

The two stepped into the attic, dodging cobwebs and squinting in the dim light coming from the hallway. Every nook and cranny was filled to the brim with scowling portraits, ancient magical knickknacks and several custom enchanted clocks. There was a giant one in gilded gold, the metal engravings entwining together in infinite spirals. Another was little and white, with a small hopping foot. And several other designs in between. A hundred tick tocks masked their footsteps.

"Gramma loved making clocks," Anastasia said, wrapping her arms around Dimitri and taking solace in his scent. "I remember she lived in Britain for a while, like you. There was this large clock tower in her school that she used to spend all her free time in. I can't believe she left all this to me…"

Dimitri stroked her hair and Anastasia leaned in to his touch. "I see she was a talented crafter," he said, his lips brushing against hers. Her heart raced. "Just like her father and her granddaughter." He pulled back and smirked, his handsome dark eyes glinting with the knowledge of exactly what Anastasia wanted. Her cheeks warmed but a giggle escaped her lips.

In spite of her admittedly limited experience as a seventeen year old, Anastasia was sure there was no one quite as enchanting as this boy before her. With his chiselled good looks, charming nature and talent with magic, he was the flame to the moths that were the girls in Durmstrang. To think he would give her the time of day, a lonely girl too obsessed with crafting objects for her own good…well, perhaps luck does run in the Gregorovitch family.

"Let's sort out what we could take back with us to school before Great Grandpa arrives," Anastasia sighed. "He wrote he'll take the rest to his place and send them to me when I get back home, but he might hate it if we made him wait here." A few years ago, Anastasia's parents had a falling out with the rest of the family for supporting the Dark Wizard of Britain. The tensions hadn't lifted even after his demise and Great Grandpa didn't want her parents to get a hold of any of Gramma's possessions.

Within an hour, they made quick work of organising everything into two separate piles— to take, and not to take. Sitting down among the "take" pile, Anastasia picked out one of Gramma's old albums as Dimitri studied a celestial themed pocket watch. A layer of dust covered the book, but a quick scourgify took care of that.

A little smile graced her face as she flipped through the album, glimpsing into her Gramma's youth. Here she was, a little girl of six or seven, zipping along the yard on a toy broom. And there, a preteen, waving goodbye while boarding a large red train. And over here, a teenager with her friends— Anastasia's breath caught in her chest.

There were three boys and two girls, including her brightly smiling Gramma. But one of the boys…why, with his side swept black hair and handsome face, he was the split image of Dimitri.

Anastasia giggled. Was he Dimitri's ancestor perhaps? Was their union always meant to be, if even their family used to be friends fifty years ago? "Hey, come look here, Dimitri!" She called him over, gesturing at the photo. "Think it's your relative?"

He sauntered close, his expression curious, and crouched down to get a good look at the photo. His eyes flashed with recognition.

"You know him?" Anastasia asked excitedly.

But before he could answer, a loud crack sounded in the attic and a very old bearded man popped into the room.

"How you've grown, my little Anya!" Great Grandpa exclaimed and spread his arms wide, beckoning her for a hug. "Why the last I saw you, you were—" But just as the couple stood up to face him, his eyes widened and his skin grew ghostly pale. He drew his wand at Anastasia—no, at Dimitri. "You…but how—"

Anastasia's smile froze in confusion as Great Grandpa's wand flew into the boy's outstretched hand. With a flick of Dimitri's wrist, ropes snaked around the old man, ensnaring him tightly. Time seemed to freeze, even though the clocks continued their incessant ticking.

"Run, Anya!" Great Grandpa cried, pulling Anastasia from her stupor.

What the hell is happening? But before she could so much as take another breath, Dimitri flicked his wrist yet again. Ropes zipped around her, paralysing her every limb. Who was this boy who stood before her, his face impassive as he forced her to her knees? Her heart beat with the sting of betrayal, her mind reeling with confusion. Who was this wizard who scrutinised Great Grandpa's wand, eyes glinting with glee?

Where…Anastasia choked down a sob…where was Dimitri?

"Tell me, old man," Dimitri asked, the warmth in his voice replaced with coolness. "Is this the Elder wand?"

"N-No." Great Grandpa shook. "And I don't have it, I swear! Leave us be!"

The glee in Dimitri's features died down with a flicker of rage. "Tell me then, where is it?" He tilted up Great Grandpa's chin, forcing him to look the boy in the eye.

For a minute— for an eternity of ticking— the two men didn't even blink, engaged in what seemed to be a battle of the wits. Anastasia held her breath. The surreality of the situation surely meant this was a nightmare. She must've fallen asleep while going through Gramma's albums. Yes, that must be what this was, a horrid nightmare. She'd wake up soon…won't she?

At last, Dimitri let go as the old man gasped for air.

"I—I told you, I don't have it," he spat out. "We're of no use to you. I beg you—let us go!"

"You're right," said the boy, raising his wand. "Avada Kedavra."

"No!" Anastasia let out a strangled cry as her great grandfather slumped to the ground. Each tick of the clocks around her only served to hammer in how still he laid, as if frozen in time. She clenched her hands with fear, with fury, desperation welling in her heart.

This can't be Dimitri! As the boy approached her with a casual stride, Anastasia glanced up with teary eyes. Where was the boy who helped her with the spells she struggled with, who taught her so patiently with a smile? Where was the boy who held her tight as she cried after getting the letter about Gramma's death? This cold blooded murderer… how could he be Dimitri, her gentle and talented boyfriend, her best friend?

"Who are you?" she whispered.

Dimitri—No, this other wizard sighed. "I suppose I owe you an explanation." He stooped down, grabbed the album she'd dropped and flicked through its pages. Then tapped the photo she'd shown him, with his doppelgänger. "This is me."

Anastasia stared at him in disbelief. That photo was from about fifty years ago, how on earth could it be him?

"When I was sixteen, I sealed a part of myself away, so if I were to die, I would be reborn again." He smiled, but unlike any of the smiles she'd seen on his face before, this one raised goosebumps on her skin. "You should be honoured Anastasia, I am none other than Lord Voldemort."

Lord Voldemort? The long dead Dark Wizard of Britain her parents adored? Anastasia swallowed as her heart drummed into her throat. Even if this were true, what should she do, grovel at his feet like the stories her parents had told her? After he'd been the reason her family broke apart, after he'd deceived her and after he'd killed her great grandfather? Anastasia wanted to spit in his face.

But the grips of fear paralysed her more than the ropes.

"I—I will be your servant," she stammered. "Please, spare me, and I'll be the most faithful servant you will ever have."

He stared into her eyes and caressed her face, as he'd done countless times on their evenings together. So gentle just as before. Anastasia's eyes stung with fresh tears at the recollection, at the realization it was all a lie. She wanted to destroy him utterly.

"You truly are a talented witch, my sweet Anya, a great addition to my ranks," he sighed. "It's a pity."

A green light flashed before her.