Yet she went on.
As Minerva slowly walked through Diagon Alley, she knew her hands were shaking- and, astonishingly, not only because of Albus.
Because of Diagon Alley itself. The once so merry street, where only a few years ago, actually- but it felt like a lifetime to Minerva!- a young, laughing and carefree Minerva McGonagall had bought her schoolbooks. Accompanied by her parents.
And now, a much older and much more mature Minerva found herself crossing that very same street. She could hardly keep herself from trembling as she fastened her pace.
Diagon Alley had, only in those few years' time, become Diagon Graveyard. The hastily scribbled notes on the sealed shutters told the so well-known story of the world, and Minerva sighed.
But, through the fear that- she could no longer deny it- had captured her entire body, another feeling arose as well. Certainty.
Five years of war had been more than enough. The world didn't need, didn't deserve a sixth. It certainly didn't.
And Minerva would look after that. Despite everything. Even despite Albus. She now silently reprimanded herself for what she mentally called "her weakness of yesterday". Because, even if she had acknowledged her love for her former tutor, even if she had accepted the proposal which would have certainly followed… Well, what then?
Then she would, perhaps, have felt something of happiness for a time, but would she ever be able to feel truly happy if her children, those little beings who'd perhaps inherit her black hair and Albus' wonderful blue eyes, were to grow up in such a world, in a world of mass murder, of violence, of evilness?
No.
So, she logically deduced -logic had always been her strength-, so she had made the right choice. And that thought, those simple words, made her carry on when her eyes reluctantly met the darkness.
The darkness of Knockturn Alley.
~*~
She shivered, yet resolutely nodded and gritted her teeth. Everything was fine. Just- fine. Grindelwald must know by now she had had a "fight" with Alastor Moody. That exactly had been the only reason of her little "performance". Deceiving Grindelwald. His spies were everywhere, so they probably were among the few Aurors left as well.
So now she'd see whether her acting had been good or… or bad. But she mustn't think of that.
She shivered again, yet went on again, thoughtlessly pulling her cloak a bit closer round her thin shoulders. She hadn't set two steps, when she already felt hidden eyes rest on her back.
Her heart pounded like hell, but she knew very well casualness could be her only chance here, and she slowly turned around. There stood, as if they'd just Apparated there –which they probably indeed had- two wizards. They were both tall, but one of them was obviously much older than the second. Minerva could not see their faces- both heavily hooded they were- and despite a sudden feeling of panic in her stomach, Minerva managed to keep in her voice in a tone of determined arrogance
"Good day, gentlemen." she clearly spoke. Gentlemen?
The youngest wizard grinned. Minerva couldn't actually see it, but she heard it in his voice, as he answered
"Good day, Minerva McGonagall."
Riddle.
Tom Riddle.
Those two words crept into Minerva's brain as soon as the pretended politeness, the- the slyness, in his words reached her ears.
Tom. Marvolo. Riddle.
A Slytherin.
The Head Boy of two years ago, the year, her 7th year, when she had been Head Girl.
"Good day, Tom Riddle." she seemingly calmly greeted. "How nice to meet an old acquaintance at such an- unexpected place."
She just hoped her sarcasm wasn't too obviously noticeable.
Acquaintance? An old enemy was more like it.
And unexpected? For god's sake, if there was one person who was likely to be here, then it must be Tom-bloody-Riddle!
Lord Voldemort, as he had, ridiculously, renamed himself in his 6th year. Little, sly, despicable Slytherin he was…
But as Minerva saw the look in his eyes, she realized this were no longer her school days. They weren't anymore just the Head Boy and Girl, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin who constantly argued. This wasn't school anymore; this wasn't a game, nor a fight between two children. They weren't school children anymore. They were Minerva McGonagall and Tom Riddle, two adults -young adults, but adults- who were part of a much larger whole. A much more dangerous whole. And unfortunately or not unfortunately, they still were part of the two greatest opposites imaginable. Gryffindor and Slytherin were now suddenly replaced by Good and Bad.
With plain capital letters.
Good and Bad.
And indeed, if anyone could be expected to be at Knockturn Alley, then it had to be Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Yet she had to admit that it had been a mistake of hers to forget about him. His presence here made her task only more complicated.
The boy- man- removed his hood, freeing his messy, black hair, and nodded, a sly grin still on his lips.
"Good guess, McGonagall, but you have always been good at deduction, have you not? Little, smart Miss McGonagall, now trapped in such a dark lonely place. That was not of your smartest moves, sweetie, for I now have the unpleasant task to kill you. Unless, of course…"
He lightly touched her cheek with his cold, right hand, as his eyes met hers and he once more grinned.
Minerva felt like vomiting. Her quest was hard enough without Tom Riddle making advances to her. She slowly inhaled and gathered all courage she could muster.
Then, she resolutely raised her left hand. Her slim, frail fingers wound themselves firmly round his broad wrist.
"Unless, of course, I have important information for Lord Grindelwald and unless, of course, you'll bring me straight to him now."
This words, she flattered herself, and the tone in which they had been spoken; pride mingled with certainty, quite surprised Riddle. He slightly shrunk back, yet found his confidence back very quickly and shook his head.
"Now sweetie, do you really think we are that stupid? McGonagall, you are Albus Dumbledore's little snuggle kitten! You're an Auror for God's sake. We aren't all as clever as you are, dearie, but we really aren't idiots, you know?"
He slightly grinned once more, but Minerva raised her chin and peered straight into his dark, grey eyes.
"People can change, Riddle. But I admit there is at least one thing that will never change: my deep and honest hatred for you. And to your information: I am not and never have been Albus Dumbledore's "snuggle kitten". This morning I have, by the way, quit my Auror training."
Minerva held her breath as she saw this new fact nestle into Tom Riddle's mind.
It was, in fact, her trump card. If this failed…
But it didn't.
For, though Tom's doubts were still clearly obvious, his older companion suddenly took a step forward. He now stood between Tom and Minerva, and took off his hood as well.
Minerva didn't know him- yet somehow, his cold, blue eyes looked strangely familiar…
"It's true, Riddle." the wizard spoke, turning towards his companion.
"Our little-" A thin, cat-like smile curled his colorless lips.
"Our little- informant has acknowledged it. The Lord isn't informed yet, but I am. She's telling the truth."
Minerva slowly exhaled. So it was true. So there was someone- a spy…
But she didn't care at that particular moment. All she felt was a deep, sincere relief. What if…?
But she mustn't think of that- her trick had worked. Apparently, it really had. For the oldest wizard grabbed between his robes, then pulled out something that slightly looked like a key and nodded. Tom Riddle, though reluctantly, had apparently found his major in the other wizard and nodded as well.
"This is a Portkey, McGonagall. Grab it when I count to three. We will take you to the Master. Then, it'll be life or death for you. But don't hope."
The man hollowly laughed, and Minerva leant a trembling hand against the cold metal of the key. Tom Riddle did the same, covering half of her hand with his. It was not a pleasant feeling, but Minerva ignored it and closed her eyes.
"One. Two. Three."
She felt Tom Riddle's hand squeeze hers and bit her lips, as a strange feeling, a feeling of being lifted up, covered her stomach.
The next moment, with a bump, her feet touched a hard, stone floor. Still biting her lips, as if to gather her courage, Minerva opened her eyes.
And looked straight into the eyes of Grindelwald.
As Minerva slowly walked through Diagon Alley, she knew her hands were shaking- and, astonishingly, not only because of Albus.
Because of Diagon Alley itself. The once so merry street, where only a few years ago, actually- but it felt like a lifetime to Minerva!- a young, laughing and carefree Minerva McGonagall had bought her schoolbooks. Accompanied by her parents.
And now, a much older and much more mature Minerva found herself crossing that very same street. She could hardly keep herself from trembling as she fastened her pace.
Diagon Alley had, only in those few years' time, become Diagon Graveyard. The hastily scribbled notes on the sealed shutters told the so well-known story of the world, and Minerva sighed.
But, through the fear that- she could no longer deny it- had captured her entire body, another feeling arose as well. Certainty.
Five years of war had been more than enough. The world didn't need, didn't deserve a sixth. It certainly didn't.
And Minerva would look after that. Despite everything. Even despite Albus. She now silently reprimanded herself for what she mentally called "her weakness of yesterday". Because, even if she had acknowledged her love for her former tutor, even if she had accepted the proposal which would have certainly followed… Well, what then?
Then she would, perhaps, have felt something of happiness for a time, but would she ever be able to feel truly happy if her children, those little beings who'd perhaps inherit her black hair and Albus' wonderful blue eyes, were to grow up in such a world, in a world of mass murder, of violence, of evilness?
No.
So, she logically deduced -logic had always been her strength-, so she had made the right choice. And that thought, those simple words, made her carry on when her eyes reluctantly met the darkness.
The darkness of Knockturn Alley.
~*~
She shivered, yet resolutely nodded and gritted her teeth. Everything was fine. Just- fine. Grindelwald must know by now she had had a "fight" with Alastor Moody. That exactly had been the only reason of her little "performance". Deceiving Grindelwald. His spies were everywhere, so they probably were among the few Aurors left as well.
So now she'd see whether her acting had been good or… or bad. But she mustn't think of that.
She shivered again, yet went on again, thoughtlessly pulling her cloak a bit closer round her thin shoulders. She hadn't set two steps, when she already felt hidden eyes rest on her back.
Her heart pounded like hell, but she knew very well casualness could be her only chance here, and she slowly turned around. There stood, as if they'd just Apparated there –which they probably indeed had- two wizards. They were both tall, but one of them was obviously much older than the second. Minerva could not see their faces- both heavily hooded they were- and despite a sudden feeling of panic in her stomach, Minerva managed to keep in her voice in a tone of determined arrogance
"Good day, gentlemen." she clearly spoke. Gentlemen?
The youngest wizard grinned. Minerva couldn't actually see it, but she heard it in his voice, as he answered
"Good day, Minerva McGonagall."
Riddle.
Tom Riddle.
Those two words crept into Minerva's brain as soon as the pretended politeness, the- the slyness, in his words reached her ears.
Tom. Marvolo. Riddle.
A Slytherin.
The Head Boy of two years ago, the year, her 7th year, when she had been Head Girl.
"Good day, Tom Riddle." she seemingly calmly greeted. "How nice to meet an old acquaintance at such an- unexpected place."
She just hoped her sarcasm wasn't too obviously noticeable.
Acquaintance? An old enemy was more like it.
And unexpected? For god's sake, if there was one person who was likely to be here, then it must be Tom-bloody-Riddle!
Lord Voldemort, as he had, ridiculously, renamed himself in his 6th year. Little, sly, despicable Slytherin he was…
But as Minerva saw the look in his eyes, she realized this were no longer her school days. They weren't anymore just the Head Boy and Girl, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin who constantly argued. This wasn't school anymore; this wasn't a game, nor a fight between two children. They weren't school children anymore. They were Minerva McGonagall and Tom Riddle, two adults -young adults, but adults- who were part of a much larger whole. A much more dangerous whole. And unfortunately or not unfortunately, they still were part of the two greatest opposites imaginable. Gryffindor and Slytherin were now suddenly replaced by Good and Bad.
With plain capital letters.
Good and Bad.
And indeed, if anyone could be expected to be at Knockturn Alley, then it had to be Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Yet she had to admit that it had been a mistake of hers to forget about him. His presence here made her task only more complicated.
The boy- man- removed his hood, freeing his messy, black hair, and nodded, a sly grin still on his lips.
"Good guess, McGonagall, but you have always been good at deduction, have you not? Little, smart Miss McGonagall, now trapped in such a dark lonely place. That was not of your smartest moves, sweetie, for I now have the unpleasant task to kill you. Unless, of course…"
He lightly touched her cheek with his cold, right hand, as his eyes met hers and he once more grinned.
Minerva felt like vomiting. Her quest was hard enough without Tom Riddle making advances to her. She slowly inhaled and gathered all courage she could muster.
Then, she resolutely raised her left hand. Her slim, frail fingers wound themselves firmly round his broad wrist.
"Unless, of course, I have important information for Lord Grindelwald and unless, of course, you'll bring me straight to him now."
This words, she flattered herself, and the tone in which they had been spoken; pride mingled with certainty, quite surprised Riddle. He slightly shrunk back, yet found his confidence back very quickly and shook his head.
"Now sweetie, do you really think we are that stupid? McGonagall, you are Albus Dumbledore's little snuggle kitten! You're an Auror for God's sake. We aren't all as clever as you are, dearie, but we really aren't idiots, you know?"
He slightly grinned once more, but Minerva raised her chin and peered straight into his dark, grey eyes.
"People can change, Riddle. But I admit there is at least one thing that will never change: my deep and honest hatred for you. And to your information: I am not and never have been Albus Dumbledore's "snuggle kitten". This morning I have, by the way, quit my Auror training."
Minerva held her breath as she saw this new fact nestle into Tom Riddle's mind.
It was, in fact, her trump card. If this failed…
But it didn't.
For, though Tom's doubts were still clearly obvious, his older companion suddenly took a step forward. He now stood between Tom and Minerva, and took off his hood as well.
Minerva didn't know him- yet somehow, his cold, blue eyes looked strangely familiar…
"It's true, Riddle." the wizard spoke, turning towards his companion.
"Our little-" A thin, cat-like smile curled his colorless lips.
"Our little- informant has acknowledged it. The Lord isn't informed yet, but I am. She's telling the truth."
Minerva slowly exhaled. So it was true. So there was someone- a spy…
But she didn't care at that particular moment. All she felt was a deep, sincere relief. What if…?
But she mustn't think of that- her trick had worked. Apparently, it really had. For the oldest wizard grabbed between his robes, then pulled out something that slightly looked like a key and nodded. Tom Riddle, though reluctantly, had apparently found his major in the other wizard and nodded as well.
"This is a Portkey, McGonagall. Grab it when I count to three. We will take you to the Master. Then, it'll be life or death for you. But don't hope."
The man hollowly laughed, and Minerva leant a trembling hand against the cold metal of the key. Tom Riddle did the same, covering half of her hand with his. It was not a pleasant feeling, but Minerva ignored it and closed her eyes.
"One. Two. Three."
She felt Tom Riddle's hand squeeze hers and bit her lips, as a strange feeling, a feeling of being lifted up, covered her stomach.
The next moment, with a bump, her feet touched a hard, stone floor. Still biting her lips, as if to gather her courage, Minerva opened her eyes.
And looked straight into the eyes of Grindelwald.
