3
The Turning Point
Minerva was falling. Yet, for some reason, she was not afraid. She knew that Tom was there, and that he would catch her. He would catch her just as he always had when they were young. Ah, their seventh year, the year of Minerva and Tom…that had been the best year of her entire life. No one, not even the great He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, could take that from her.
With a start, Minerva realized that her her descent had come to a sudden halt. Glancing around her in dazed surprise, she saw that she was standing in the private rooms of Hogwarts' Head Boy.
That would be Tom, she realized. Because this is fifty years ago.
Looking down at herself, she saw that she was young again – seventeen years old, to be exact. She no longer wore an emerald green cloak and matching hat, but the official school uniform and a badge bearing the legend "Head Girl."
"Minnie," a familiar voice called. "Come and open your presents."
Minerva whirled around and it was then that she saw him. Tom Riddle. He was standing by the Christmas tree with his arms crossed, a sardonic expression on his handsome face. The sight of him after all of this time made her somewhat dizzy, and she clutched the sofa for support.
"Are you quite all right?" Tom asked, smirking but looking concerned nevertheless. He took a step towards Minerva. "You look ill."
For a moment, she just stood there and contemplated all of the terrible things that the young man standing before her would one day grow up to do, but then she could just not hold it in any longer. She crossed the floor so quickly that even the ever composed and collected Tom seemed surprised, and embraced him.
It had been so long since she had last touched him, held him in her arms. Minerva knew that this perfect moment would never last, that she would be forced to leave him when his forays into the Dark Arts became too extreme for even her to ignore, but at that moment she could care less. All that she felt was love.
"Happy Christmas, Tom Riddle."
"And the same to you, Minerva."
Minerva opened her eyes and gasped. It was years later, and she was standing alongside the Order of the Phoenix as they prepared for the final confrontation. The Death Eaters, led by the Dark Lord, were fast approaching Hogwarts. Students had been evacuated, except for the D.A. They had insisted upon assisting the Order and could not be persuaded to leave the castle.
"Aim to Stun," Remus Lupin ordered the students. His expression was very grim. "The Order will deal with Voldemort."
Minerva turned ashen. She would not let them kill him. Not when only moments ago he and she had been sharing a joyful Christmas together.
When she finally spoke, her voice was steady. "No one else do anything. I will take care of the Dark Lord." More softly, "I will save Tom."
Minerva woke with a start. She fumbled for her spectacles, wondering all the while. The Dreamless Sleep potion was supposed to be foolproof. It had always worked for her before. So why had it not worked this time?
But perhaps the dream had its uses, because she knew one thing at least: something had changed since she had gone to sleep – something important.
Now, Minerva realized resignedly, I may have the chance to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. But I know now that I cannot. Or will not. Even if it costs Potter his life….