Chapter Notes:
This chapter is mainly focused on Tempest (my OC)'s perspective of things. This chapter is mainly focused on Tempest (my OC)'s perspective of things. I've decided to make her loyalties clear from the beginning so that nothing of what she may do or think will confuse you too much. This chapter isn't all that exciting, but it also puts an interesting spin on Voldemort as a character.
On an unrelated topic, my reasoning for putting these notes at the top of the chapter is that these author notes are meant to serve as a warning for the chapter to come. It may spoil a few things, but the things that are spoiled most likely won't make sense until you actually read the chapter.
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Tempest Williams, a woman of many strengths and great power, gazed blankly at the brats shuffling into the Great Hall. Beside her to her right, sitting quite proudly, was Minerva McGonagall - Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The woman was infuriating, as all Gryffindors tended to be.
Tempest wasn't sure as to what she should expect throughout the next seven years. Harry blasted Potter was starting his Wizarding education today. How wonderful, another brat to torment her with useless questions. Not to mention the arrogance the boy was sure to possess– being the Boy-Who-Lived and all.
A quick glance to her left told her that a certain Severus Snape was glaring especially hard at anyone who dared look at him today. 'He must be having similar thoughts as my own,' She mused to herself silently. Potter Sr. had been an ignorant, arrogant brat - so clearly Potter Jr. would follow in his footsteps.
James Potter had always been a fool, had always been naive and careless. Perhaps this was why he had once called Tempest a friend, an ally. It wasn't all that surprising, she reminded herself. Tempest had acted the part of the kind professor, the gentle friend quite well. It was how she avoided getting caught fulfilling her schemes.
How foolish it was of her to accept the role of the Potter spawn's godmother. It brought along obligations that would make her role as Voldemort's follower much more difficult - but all the more opportunities to please the man.
Of course, being the centuries old being she was, would not call the Dark Wizard her master, her lord when he was not around to listen. Her pride would not allow it. No, she was no one's servant. She was the great Personification of North America! She was simply an active supporter of the cause!
"The Potter spawn approaches, it appears." Severus' voice is low but is still clear. I nod, eyes watching the stool, gaze unwavering. Tempest softened her gaze as the raven haired boy turns to look at her. His eyes, a bright green, were dull for the most part - the only life in them being a dim twinkle of wonder, curiosity.
Forcing a smile to grace her lips, Tempest nodded her head graciously at the boy, encouraging him to take his place on the stool. Privately, the nation wondered what house he'd be best suited for. She, admittedly, did not know the boy in the slightest - but if he was anything like his foolish father, Gryffindor would be a likely option.
The sorting hat mumbled quietly as it debated his choice. Students were whispering from their tables eagerly, all of them hoping to have the brat in their house. The Hufflepuffs seemed a bit resigned, already convinced that the boy was not destined to be one of them.
Tempest was amused by this greatly. Oh how she loved seeing the looks of resignation, of defeat. It brought her back centuries to the time where she had been a pirate, sailing the seas and reeking havoc on anyone who dare crossed her path.
That time frame, of course, could have been considered as her rebellious faze, she supposed. Nowadays she was much more refined, more respectable and polite. She now held herself with maturity, pride, and a sense of superiority.
Silence washed over the hall as the sorting hat went silent, supposedly debating on which house to choose. Tempest didn't need to use Legilimency to figure out that everyone expected the boy to be a Gryffindor, just as she, herself, did.
It would make the boy so normal to be in Gryffindor. If he was in Gryffindor she'd be able ignore the brat completely, like she did with the other Gryffindors. If she ignored the brat his presence wouldn't annoy her so much.
Although Tempest wasn't currently a Head of House, she used to be. Head of Slytherin to be exact. In fact, the only reason she gave up the position was because that senile old– Dumbledore pulled rank on her. Not politically of course, no, he would stand no chance in that field. He had used the old rules assigned by the Ministry to insist that as Headmaster, it was his duty to make sure that house heads were suitable.
Tempest had thrown a fit in private about that one. How dare the old coot try to rip her precious little snakes away from her? She was forced to comply in the end. The bastard had attempted to use the imperius curse to make her sign the position off to someone else—Severus Snape, and she was forced to act the part.
She brought her attention back to the Potter brat just as the hat shouted out the results of his findings. "SLYTHERIN!" To say she was shocked was something she'd never do, but she could not for the life of her stop the widening of her eyes. Quickly occluding her emotions, the woman mechanically clapped, setting off a chain reaction from the Slytherin table.
A smirk played on her lips as she took a glance at Dumbledore. His eyes were wide. Within his eyes; something akin to confusion– and was that anger? Odd. She waited semi patiently until the last child was sorted. The only upside to the sorting was the welcoming feast that followed. While the food wasn't the best she had tasted– and sometimes it was even tampered with by students– it was still fairly good.
Of course, she wouldn't stuff her face like a pathetic Gryffindor would, that was disgusting to even think about. No, she'd eat with the manners of a respectable lord. Because here in the Wizarding World, she was just that, a lord– or well, lady she supposed.
Dumbledore's speech passed by quickly and so did the feast. Tempest was thankful for this, as she entered her quarters for the first time since the students had arrived. Classes would begin on Monday and she was not looking forward to seeing all of those brats again– but alas, someone had to keep an eye on Dumbledore and his antics.
Her eyes scanned over her book shelves. Her more favourable books were hidden away of course - she wouldn't want anyone who dared to snoop around her quarters to find them. The books she was hiding weren't particularly legal and she did not wish for a short trip to Azkaban– even if she would have gotten out of it after a few days due to her many connections.
Dumbledore would do anything to get her nose out of his business, Tempest didn't doubt that in the slightest. The more information she knew, the more she could foil him and his vile plans for the Boy-Who-Lived.
Make no mistake, she despised the little brat. That would never change, her cold and icy heart would never allow for that to happen. But no child should be used as a mere weapon. One that could be disposed of at the old coot's will. She just couldn't sit and watch it happen.
The boy may have supposedly killed her apprentice, Voldemort - aka Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., but he didn't deserve that much pressure. A life like that would be meaningless, depressing.
Tempest brought a finger to her chin - something she did when debating with herself. Perhaps she could recruit Potter, get him to join the Dark side of the war's cause. That would make it so much easier and would help Tom in the long run. Yes, that was precisely what she would do. Now that he had been sorted into Slytherin, that might just make everything a bit easier for her.
Oh, and yes. Tempest was, and is if her suspicions were correct, the mentor of the most feared wizard in Britain. She had taught him everything she knew when he was but a young teenager. The boy was brilliant - one of her most favourite students to teach. If it wasn't for Dumbledore and his meddling, he would probably have been a well respected, political genius.
Leave it to the old fool to ruin the future the boy could have had. Despite Dumbledore's meddling and manipulation, Tempest had stood by the boy, helped him when he was at his lowest - eased him back to sanity if he became too paranoid. Sadly, that damned Hallow's Eve had become unavoidable after Dumbledore had practically fed us that prophesy.
Tom had become inconsolable, too paranoid. No one, not even her, could get through to him - and when Pettigrew revealed the location of the Potters, well, we all know how that went.
Tempest was absolutely positive that her apprentice was not gone forever, that he had not truly died that night. She could feel him, his magic– even if just faintly, nearby. Or perhaps that feelings was only longing, a wish. That boy had wormed his way quite deep into her heart. He was almost like a son to her, and she dearly wished to see him again.
The sound of the flop was the sound to break her out of her thoughts. She watched as the violent green flames licked dangerously close to the floor before retracting, revealing the old coot himself.
"Albus," Tempest greeted with a polite nod, "What has brought you to my quarters? Perhaps you'd like some tea?" It took a great deal of her willpower not to scowl at the man before her.
"Ah, why yes, My Dear. Tea would be lovely," She didn't like the way his eyes twinkled, didn't like how he smiled at her. She withheld a snort, now she was being the paranoid one. Well, Tom had to get it from someone, she supposed. "And as for your first question… I have some concerns regarding Mister Potter."
Ah, so this is what he wanted. Honestly, she wanted to slap herself for not expecting this interaction. She was getting to be as foolish as a Gryffindor at this rate. Hm, she really did have a bad habit of insulting the lions of the school, didn't she?
"Do not waste my time, Albus, I still have classes to prepare for." Her eyes narrowed as he took a good look around my room, at my bookshelves, and the cupboards in which I had important things locked away. I can't help but to sneer. "Get on with it, will you?
His eyes twinkled as he meets woman's sharp gaze. Tempest replaced her sneer with an impatient smile - one she reserved specifically for Albus and his habit of taking his dear old time with sharing his 'worries'. It was without a doubt to be about the boy's sorting, that much was blatantly obvious.
Tapping her foot rhythmically, trying to occlude her emotions so that she wouldn't be tempted to hex the Headmaster without direct reason. The old man sauntered into the sitting room uninvited, as per usual. These visits were never pleasant for a reason, after all.
It didn't take her long to have the tea prepared and set out in front of them. It would have been quicker had she summoned a house elf, but she had wanted to stall so she had prepared the beverage herself. It was only delaying the inevitable, of course, so here she was sitting across from Albus sipping on her tea.
"I feel like there has been a mistake with the boy's sorting, Tempest." No surprise there - but whether his so called beliefs were accurate or not was anyone's guess. "I may have to petition for a resort if that's true, would you sign it? Surely with your backing–"
Tempest's temper flared for a brief moment before she cut the man off, voice calmer than she actually was. "No. It hasn't been a day, for Merlin's sake. Besides, you haven't even properly met the boy yet. Give him a chance to adjust to his house. Understood, Headmaster?" She may not like the brat, but it would not do to have the boy resorted without concrete reasoning.
Whether he understood it or not didn't matter. His petition wouldn't go through without proper evidence anyway. For a brief second, and Tempest wasn't even sure if it really happened, Albus' eyes lost their twinkle. Not in a sad, regretful way, but in a way influenced by anger. She had pushed his buttons - and that thought almost brought a genuine smile to her lips.