"Why are you grinning?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"You're grinning, why?"
"Oh! Nothing," said Harry, shaking his head.
Teddie eyed him closely and then shrugged. She turned to the stone gargoyle, barricading Dumbledore's office. "Toffee Eclairs," she said, watching as it jumped aside.
The spiral staircase behind the gargoyle moved upwards, and Harry and Teddie climbed it until they stopped outside of Dumbledore's office door.
Harry knocked.
"Enter," called Dumbledore.
Teddie squeaked as the door was wrenched open and she found herself face-to-face with Professor Trelawney.
"Aha!" Trelawney cried. "So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"
"My dear, Sybil," said Dumbledore in a slightly exasperated voice, "there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Harry does have an appointment, and I really don't think there is any more to be said -"
"Very well," said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. "If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it. . . perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated. . . "
She pushed past Harry and Teddie, disappearing down the spiral staircase; they heard her stumble halfway down, possibly tripping over one of her trailing shawls.
"Please close the door and sit down," said Dumbledore, sounding rather tired.
The pair obeyed.
Teddie eyed Dumbledore as she took her usual seat behind his desk. "Are you okay, Professor?" she asked. "You don't look so good."
"I'm very well, thank you, Teddie," said Dumbledore, offering a soft smile.
The Pensieve lay in the centre of the desk, as did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memories.
"Professor Trelawney still isn't happy Firenze is teaching, then?" Harry asked.
"No," said Dumbledore, "Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject myself. I cannot ask Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an outcast, nor can I ask Sybil Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in outside the castle. She does not know-and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her-that she made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see."
"S.P.T," said Teddie. "They were the initials on the Prophecy last year. S.P.T., refers to Professor Trelawney?"
Dumbledore nodded. "It does indeed, but, never mind my staffing problems. We have much more important matters to discuss. Firstly— have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?"
"Ah," said Harry. "Well, I asked Professor Slughorn about it at the end of Potions, sir, but, er, he wouldn't give it to me."
There was a little silence.
"I see," said Dumbledore. "And you feel that you have exerted your very best efforts in this matter, do you? That you have exercised all of your considerable ingenuity? That you have left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your quest to retrieve the memory?"
"Well," Harry stalled. "Well. . . the day Ron swallowed love potion by mistake I took him to Professor Slughorn. I thought maybe if I got Professor Slughorn in a good enough mood -"
"And did that work?" asked Dumbledore.
"Well, no, sir, because Ron got poisoned -"
"- which, naturally, made you forget all about trying to retrieve the memory; I would have expected nothing else, while your best friend was in danger. Once it became clear that Mr. Weasley was going to make a full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you returned to the task I set you. I thought I made it clear to you how very important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time without it."
"It isn't that we aren't bothered, Professor," said Teddie, coming to Harry's defence. "We've just had other things to juggle. I haven't tried to ask Professor Slughorn yet, I don't know how I intend to broach the subject, but I know I must at some point. My friends are helping me come up with a plan, you know, since my first one went screwy."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Punctuated only by the little grunting snores of the portrait of Armando Dippet over Dumbledore's head.
Then, Harry broke it. "Professor Dumbledore, I'm really sorry. I should have done more. . . I should have realized you wouldn't have asked me to do it if it wasn't really important."
"We," said Teddie. "We should have done more. I'm as much a part of this task as you are, Harry, I should've helped you, or stayed with you at the end of Potions. But I didn't, and I'm sorry.
"Thank you both for saying that," said Dumbledore quietly. "May I hope, then, that you will give this matter higher priority from now on? There will be little point in our meeting after tonight unless we have that memory."
"We will do it, sir, we'll get it from him," said Harry earnestly.
"Then we shall say no more about it just now," said Dumbledore, "but continue with our story where we left off. You remember where that was?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry quickly. "Voldemort killed his father and his grandparents and made it look as though his Uncle Morfin did it. Then he went back to Hogwarts, and he asked . . . he asked Professor Slughorn about Horcruxes," he mumbled shamefacedly.
"Very good," said Dumbledore. "Now, you will remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"
Teddie nodded.
"Thus far, as I hope you agree, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Voldemort did until the age of seventeen?"
Harry nodded.
"But now," said Dumbledore, "now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you."
Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the Pensive.
"I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."
Dumbledore raised the first of the two bottles to the light and examined it.
"I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two," he said. "This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left Hogwarts.
"He reached the seventh year of his schooling with top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, Prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes."
"Borgin and Burkes?" Harry echoed.
Dumbledore nodded.
"Can we be really that surprised?" Teddie asked. "I mean, Borgin and Burkes is a store of dark objects, of course it would draw in Riddle's attention."
"And we shall see exactly why once we have seen Hokey's memory," said Dumbledore. "But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time… as one of the few in whom the then Headmaster confided - but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a Professor."
Teddie whined miserably. She had, reluctantly, accepted that parts of her past mirrored that of her so-called father, but why did her future have to head in the same direction.
"He wanted to stay here. Why?" asked Harry.
"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home."
Teddie glanced at Harry. She could remember a time where he expressed such a sentiment.
"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap into."
"Like opening the Chamber of Secrets wasn't enough?" Teddie murmured.
"And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin to build himself an army. "
"But he didn't get the job, sir?"
"No, he did not. Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to teach."
"How did you feel about that, sir?" asked Harry hesitantly.
"Deeply uneasy," said Dumbledore. "I had advised Armando against the appointment-I did not give the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty. But I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school, and especially not in a position of power."
"I have a feeling I already know this answer, but I'm still going to ask," said Teddie. "Which position did he apply for, Professor?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years."
"So when he was rejected, he went to work at Borgin and Burkes," said Teddie. "He couldn't get what he wanted, so he settled for second best. I bet he loved that."
Harry nodded.
"You must understand, Teddie, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite, handsome, clever, he was soon given jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes. A job which specialises, as you know, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was unusually gifted at doing this."
"I bet he was," said Harry.
"Well, quiet," said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. "And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."
Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork flew out, and he tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve.
~X~
Teddie looked around as she landed in the middle of an immensely large living room. Sitting in a poofy armchair, legs up on a foot stool and a brilliant set of pink robes flowing around her was a woman that she could only guess was Hepzibah Smith.
Hepzibah was big, Teddie noted. Big. She took up the entire chair with next to no wiggle room. She was wearing an elaborate ginger wig and was looking into a small, jewelled mirror, while dabbing her already scarlet cheeks with a large powder puff.
A tiny house elf squealed as it tried its hardest to lace Hepzibah's fleshy feet into tight satin slippers.
"Hurry up, Hokey!" said Hepzibah imperiously. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"
She tucked away her powder puff as the house-elf straightened up. The top of the elf's head barely reached the seat of Hepzibah's chair, and her papery skin hung off her frame just like the crisp linen sheet she wore draped like a toga.
"How do I look?" said Hepzibah, turning her head to admire the various angles of her face in the mirror.
"Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey.
"Lovely?" Teddie echoed. "She looks like a beached whale with melted icing."
Harry snorted.
"But then, I suppose, House Elves have a contract to be as helpful as ever to their mistress and masters. I remember Mason telling me what Winky was like the day of the Quidditch World cup."
Harry nodded. "Dobby was the same," he said.
A tinkling doorbell rang and both mistress and elf jumped.
"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" cried Hepzibah and the elf scurried out of the room.
Teddie was stunned, as Hokey disappeared, that she hadn't knocked over half a dozen things in her pursuit for the door. The room itself was as crammed packed with objects, that she was surprised Hepzibah hadn't knocked everything over just by standing to close.
There were cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers. In fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.
The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man that no one had any difficult recognising.
Voldemort was dress in a plain black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been while at school and his cheeks were hollowed. But, despite her relation to him, Teddie couldn't deny that he looked more handsome than ever.
Harry touched Teddie's shoulder as she cringed. "You, okay?" he asked, gently.
"Yeah. Don't worry about it," said Teddie, waving him off.
Voldemort carefully picked his way through the cramped room with an air that showed he had visited many times before and bowed low over Hepzibah's fat little hand, brushing it with his lips. "I brought you flowers," he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.
Harry bit back a smile as, from the corner of his eye, he saw Teddie pretend to gag.
"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom. . . sit down, sit down. . . where's Hokey. . . ah . . . "
The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow.
"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah, "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times. . . "
Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.
Teddie raised an eyebrow. "She called him Tom and he didn't react," she said. "I flinch every time someone calls me Faye."
"Maybe you could take notes," said Harry.
Teddie scrunched her nose at him.
"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" Hepzibah asked, batting her lashes.
"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armour," said Voldemort. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair -"
"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.
"I am ordered here because of them," said Voldemort quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire -"
"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."
"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.
"I had Hokey bring it out for me. . . Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure. . . In fact, bring both, while you're at it. . . "
"Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, and Harry saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if of their own volition, though he knew the tiny elf was holding them over her head as she wended her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.
"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom. . . oh, if my family knew I was showing you. . . They can't wait to get their hands on this!"
She opened the lid.
Inside the box, nestled against a black velvet cushion was a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.
"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings.
His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort's handsome features.
"A badger," murmured Voldemort, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was. . .?"
"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and pinching his hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here. . . "
She hooked the cup back off Voldemort's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Voldemort's face as the cup was taken away.
"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are-take that away now, Hokey. "
The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap.
"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see. . . of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone. . . "
She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.
Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it. "Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.
"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay a lot for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value -"
There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort's eyes flashed scarlet at the words, his knuckles whiten on the locket's chain.
"- I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are. . . pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe. . . "
She reached out to take the locket back. For a split second, Teddie wondered if Voldemort would not let go, but then it had slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.
"So, there you are, Tom, clear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"
She looked him full in the face and for the first time, her smile faltering. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked.
"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well. . . "
"I thought-but a trick of the light, I suppose -" said Hepzibah, looking unnerved, and Harry guessed that she too had seen the momentary red gleam in Voldemort's eyes. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again. . . the usual enchantments. . . "
~X~
Teddie gasped as she returned to Dumbledore's office. "She died, didn't she?" she asked Dumbledore. "Hepzibah, I mean?"
"Yes, she did. Two days after that scene," said Dumbledore. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident."
"No!" Harry and Teddie cried.
"I see we are of one mind," said Dumbledore. "Certainly, then are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death -"
"Hokey confessed?"
"She remembered putting something in her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison," said Dumbledore. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused -"
"Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!" said Teddie.
"Yes, that is my conclusion too," said Dumbledore. "And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey -"
"- because she was a house-elf," said Harry.
"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink, and nobody at the Ministry bothered to inquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was over - but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket.
Teddie furrowed her brow.
"That… sounds risky," said Harry. "Throwing away his job, just for those trinkets."
"Insanity to one is sanity to another," said Teddie.
"I hope you will understand in due course exactly what those objects meant to him," said Dumbledore. "But you must admit that it is not difficult to imagine that he saw the locket, at least, as rightfully his."
Teddie gnawed at her lower lip. "Well, technically, they were," she said. "I mean, they belonged to his mother. She only sold them because she needed the money, if she hadn't have done that then they would've gone to him, regardless, right?"
Dumbledore nodded. "The locket and ring had been passed down from generation to generation," he said. "So, yes, they would have become his property had his mother not sold it."
"But stealing, Ted?" Harry asked. "Killing and stealing to reclaim a family heirloom that, quite probably, didn't have any powers at all? Would you have done that?"
"Probably not," said Teddie. "I mean, I'm no saint when it comes to breaking and entering, but I cross the line at stealing."
"You've broken in somewhere?" Harry asked, stunned.
"Not like a house, or something," said Teddie, shaking her head. "A garage or garden shed, sure, but never actual homes."
Harry stared, slack jawed.
Teddie rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up," she said, turning her attention back to Dumbledore. "But why did he steal the cup?" she asked. "Was it because it was something of the Four Founders?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I believe so. Remember what I said. Voldemort had an attachment to the school, and anything that could link back to it and its history. Anything to do with Slytherin linked back to him, personally, the rest of the founders was his way of keeping the school with him at all times."
Teddie furrowed her brow then, somewhere deep in her mind, something clicked. Voldemort and his connection to Hogwarts, his desire to keep anything and everything that had to do with the founders, even those that weren't of his own familiar line, the memory that Slughorn had modified, the real one that Dumbledore wanted them to retrieve.
"Oh… my… God…" said Teddie, her eyes widening. "He - they - that's why you -?"
"Ted?" Harry asked. "What? What is it?"
Dumbledore, however, was smiling pleasantly at Teddie.
"But… he… he didn't have anything of Ravenclaws," said Teddie, her frown returning as she gazed across the desk at the headmaster. "Or is that -" she nodded at the last remaining memory.
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, this, my dear, is ten years on from Horkey's memory," he said, picking up the phial between his fingers. "Ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing."
"Whose memory, is it?" Harry asked.
"Mine," said Dumbledore. "Shall we?"
~X~
Snow flittered down outside the window as a younger Dumbledore sat behind his desk. He didn't flinch as Teddie and Harry landed beside him, although Fawkes did coo softly from his perch. The office didn't look much different to the one they had just left, except the candles were extinguished as great orbs of light expelled soft yellow light all around the room.
"Where's Dumbledore?" Teddie asked, noticing that the older Professor had not join them.
Harry looked around and was mid-shrug when a light tapping came from across the office. Someone was at the door.
"Enter," the younger Dumbledore called.
The door squeaked open and, much to their surprise, a version of Voldemort that entered was enough to make the quietest of people scream. His face, while not as resembled as the snake-like mask it did in the present day, was also not as handsome has the face of the memory that had come out of the Diary four years ago.
"What did Avery see in him?" Teddie whispered.
"They didn't have you because of love, remember," said Harry.
Teddie inclined her head. That was true. She was born simply for the desire to have more power, and not because her parents - if you could call them that - loved one another and wanted to start a family.
Voldemort was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.
The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. This visit was made by appointment.
"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore. "Won't you sit?"
"Thank you," said Voldemort. He removed his cloak, hanging it over his arm as he took a seat in the chair Dumbledore had indicated too. His body was thin, but not frail. He wore thick jumper and black trousers, the hems of which were wet from the snow.
Teddie glanced at Harry. The older Dumbledore still had not joined them. Why did he was insisting on them seeing this memory alone?
"I heard that you had become Headmaster," said Voldemort, his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been before. "A worthy choice."
"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore. "May I offer you a drink?"
"That would be welcome," said Voldemort. "I have come a long way."
Harry leaned closer to Teddie. "Why is Dumbledore being so hospitable?" he asked.
"He's the Headmaster of a school now," Teddie replied. "He has to think of the repercussions it could cause the students and other Professors if he starts something with Voldemort. They could get hurt, or worse."
Harry withdrew.
Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensieve, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind desk.
"So, Tom, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Voldemort didn't answer straight away. Instead, he sipped his wine, eyeing Dumbledore from across the desk. "They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said, finally. "These days, I am known as -"
"I know what you're known as," said Dumbledore. "But, to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their chargers' youthful beginnings."
He raised his glass, as if toasting Voldemort.
"Civil because of students, huh?" Harry asked Teddie.
"I said he had to consider their safety," said Teddie, rolling her eyes. "I never said he had to be courteous and civil."
Harry couldn't help the small smile on his lips.
"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Voldemort. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."
"Well, to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching, too."
"I still see it," said Voldemort. "I merely wondered why you - who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I believe, been offered the post of Minister -"
"Three times, actually," corrected Dumbledore. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common; I think."
Teddie whistled under her breath. From what she had seen so far of Voldemort's ascent to the Wizard he is now, he hated anything that made him common. Ordinary. To some, being compared to Dumbledore would've been the highest of honours, but to Voldemort it was clear that anything that didn't make him unique was something he didn't want.
Instead of speaking, Voldemort took another sip of his wine, and the silence stretched on.
"I have returned," Voldemort said after a while. "Later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected. But I have returned, nevertheless, to request, again, what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they cannot gain from other wizards."
Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his goblet. "Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."
Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lie. You must know this, Dumbledore."
"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore.
"Certainly," said Voldemort, and his eyes burned red. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed -"
"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected. "Of some. Of others, you remain. . . forgive me. . . woefully ignorant."
For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage. "The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."
"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested Dumbledore.
"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh research than here, at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves-or so rumour has it-the Death Eaters?"
Voldemort's eyes flash red again and the slit like nostrils flared. "My friends," he said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure. "
"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."
"You are mistaken," said Voldemort.
"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them— Nott, Rosier, Mulder, Dolohov, Sutherland— awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."
There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was travelling was even less welcome to Voldemort; however, he rallied almost at once.
"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."
"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly. "Now, Tom. . . "
Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture. ". . . let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"
Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."
"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"
Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job -"
"Of course, I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose. "
Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"
"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.
"Then we have nothing more to say to each other. "
"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom. . . I wish I could. . . "
From the corner of her eye, Teddie saw Harry teeter forward. She reached out, grasping his arm with her hand, and shaking her head. "You remember what happened when I jumped to defend Merope," she said. "It's a memory. We're simply observing."
"But -"
"What do you expect to happen, Harry?" Teddie asked, watching as Voldemort's hand twitched towards his robe pocket. "We're technically not here. This has already happened. If a fight breaks out, it breaks out. We can only witness it."
Harry sighed. He knew she was right. And he did remember what had happened when she had jumped to defend Merope. Her actions had caused her to become evicted from the memory, would his have done the same here?
The door closed with a snap as Voldemort exited the office.
~X~
Dumbledore's office was darker now. An older version of the headmaster was waiting for them behind the desk, his hand blackened and dead-looking, and there was no snow building on the ledge outside of the window.
"Why?" Harry asked at once. "Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"
"I have ideas," said Dumbledore, "but no more than that."
"What ideas, sir?"
"Does it have anything to do Ravenclaw, Professor?" Teddie asked.
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement behind his half-moon spectacles. "I shall tell you," he said, smiling, "but only when you have retrieved the memory from Slughorn."
"Aw," Teddie whined.
Dumbledore chuckled. "When you have the last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear… to all of us," he said. He stood, rounded his desk, and strode across the office, opening his door for them.
Teddie stopped on the threshold, looking back as Harry refused to move. "Harry, you okay?" she asked.
"Did he want the Defense Against the Dark Arts position again, sir?" Harry asked. "He didn't say…"
"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," said Dumbledore, nodding. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that."
Teddie furrowed her brow. "Is that why some people think it is cursed?" she asked. "I mean, we've never really had a professor stick around for longer than a year. Although wasn't Quirrell exception?"
"Professor Quirrell did last the longest," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Even though he switched professions. If you remember, he did teach Muggle Studies."
"I still don't understand how Professor Quirrell could teach witches and wizards about Muggles," said Teddie, shaking her head.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Now, off to bed, both of you," he said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and herding him towards the door. "It is quite late. We will meet again soon, I hope."
"We'll do our best to get the memory, Professor," said Teddie. "Promise."
"I believe you will, Miss Green. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," the pair echoed, descending the staircase.
The door closed once they were mid-way down, and once they had reached the bottom, Harry turned to Teddie, catching her hand as she started to walk away.
"What's the matter?" Teddie asked.
"What did you figure out?" Harry asked. "Before we saw Dumbledore's memory. You figured something out between Voldemort, Dumbledore, and the Founders."
Teddie smiled slightly. "The memory that Slughorn has," she said. "It's to do with Horcruxes, yeah?"
Harry nodded.
"And, like I have said before, I don't know much about them, but from what I do know, they are used to harbour dark things," said Teddie. "I think Voldemort wanted things from the four founders to make a Horcrux."
Harry nodded slowly. "So, you think he took the cup to make a Horcrux?" he asked.
"The cup and the locket," said Teddie, nodding. "I also think he came back under the pretence of asking for the Defense position as a way to search the castle for something related to Rowena Ravenclaw."
Harry blinked. "But you can't be sure?" he asked.
Teddie shook her head. "It's like Dumbledore said, everything is guesswork and theories," she said. "But I know a Horcrux is a dark object. I don't know exactly how dark, or what it contains, but I do know you can create them. Slughorn is the only person who knows the true extent of a Horcrux, which is why I think I may be ready to confront him."
"Do you want some help?"
"Sure. We're in this together, right?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah. We are," he said.
Teddie held up her pinkie finger. "Promise?" he asked.
"Promise," said Harry, wrapping his own pinkie around hers.