Where Her Soul Belonged

This letter was titled May 1956 and it was Ron's turn to read again. "After Selene died, Tom and I found it hard to move on. In a way, I guess we found it difficult to move on in the same direction. I grieved for the loss of my only child and I will admit that I changed dramatically after what took place that day. I was not as attentive to Tom and I had no desire for anything for a while. I found myself in the same deep, dark, depressing hole that my own mother had been in and that scared me. Just as my mother drove me away, I was pushing Tom away. They say it is common, that after a child's death, the couple finds they are unable to continue a relationship.

"For Tom and I, the situation was completely different. Augusta and Louis took us in after Selene was murdered, because I was unable to live in the house we once had called home. Tom had other friends, other followers is the more correct term, that he spent a considerable amount of time with. I thought at first it was his way of grieving for her. Years later, I would realize that the only emotional attachment Tom ever had to Selene is that she was a part of he and I. However, back then, I was confused by his frustration with me and it led to us separating.

"I never asked for a divorce from Tom. To this day, I remain Minerva Riddle. I am his wife by marriage and my heart will always belong to the Tom Riddle I fell in love with. Lord Voldemort was a creature that I never saw in him, but I always knew rested somewhere inside. I do believe that Tom was capable of loving me back; not only did he save my life, but in his quest to gather followers, he has never once approached me nor has he threatened my life. This memory is the day I left him. Not the last time I saw him, but the day I let go of our marriage."

Minerva looked more like the woman they all knew so well. She was standing in the grand living room of a gothic mansion looking in every sense like she belonged there. Hair pulled back in an elegant French twist with heavy emerald robes, she appeared a queen among her possessions. There was a black grand piano untouched near the center of the room and all of the ornaments seemed to be placed strategically around the stoic center piece. Her stiff posture was the only evidence she did not belong to the room.

"So this is it?" His voice pulled her out of her thoughts, but she did not turn to face him. Instead, she approached the piano and ran her fingers ever so softly across the ivories. Tom Riddle stood in the doorway; stone arches reigned above him. He was truly a king in his own castle. "You are just going to leave?"

"Do you think anyone ever plays this?"

"No, and I honestly do not care about the bloody piano," he said exasperated. Minerva straightened her back and quickly turned to look at him.

"Then what do you care about? Because it is certainly not me." Her voice was solid and smooth and there was no mistaking her point. "You should remember that you are not my master, you are my husband. And even though those men treat you like a God, I have a news flash for you: you are not one. I did not marry you to serve some higher purpose or whatever it is you keep rambling on about. This is not the man I married."

"Do you not want to be with me? Did we not promise to love each other until death?" Tom's voice had an odd edge to it as he stared at her. He still had not moved from entering the room, clearing expecting her to gravitate to him. The empty space between them was a testament to the stubborn wills arguing.

"Love has nothing to do with it Tom." Minerva closed her eyes and desperately tried to find a better way of explaining it. "Passion was never our problem; loving you was never my problem. I will always love you, Tom."

A tense silence settled upon the room and the sound of voices could be heard up the stairs. Minerva slipped off her wedding ring and glanced down painfully at the silver object. Clutching it firmly in her hand she forced herself to walk over to him. Tom never made a move as she approached him and reached for his hand. Spreading his pale fingers wide, she slipped the ring into the palm of his hand, but her eyes never reached above the tie around his neck. Just as she turned away, he abruptly brought up his other hand to catch her face. Cupping it stiffly, he forced her to look at him.

"Keep it. You'll want it to remember someday what you left behind." Tom conjured a small vial out of thin air and raised his wand to his temple. Pulling a misty memory from his hairline, he bottled it up, placing a red stopper on top. "And this, to make sure you never doubted my intentions."

"You will let me walk away?" Absentmindedly, she allowed him to give her the ring and mysterious bottle and tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. "You would let me walk away from us?"

"You and I both know I cannot stop you. Why should I try?" His cold eyes stared back at her. There it was. The part of him she could never penetrate; the side of him he presented to everyone else. Now, she was just like everyone else. "I lost any hope of keeping you the day we laid Selene in the ground."

"If she was here right now, would it make a difference?" All of the air seemed to be sucked out of the room in an instance. Magic pulsed between them as they stared at the life they were giving up.

It took him a moment to reply, "We cannot live in the past, Minerva. Could one little girl make that much difference in the world?" Tom's words hit home and the woman standing in front of him closed her eyes in pain. The tracks her tears had left remained as she had not bothered to wipe them away. Maybe he would feel her pain. Just maybe.

"And if moving on from the past means moving apart?"

"Then farewell, my love."

All Minerva could manage was a stiff nod and she pocketed her wedding ring, wiped the wet from her face, and walked swiftly to the door. As she touched the ornate handle he called after her. For one moment she allowed herself to think he was calling her back; that he was capable of loving her once again; that he was not turning into a creature she did not know.

"Do you love me?" It was an odd question. One that Tom Riddle had never asked of his wife. She knew then he would never come after her. As long as she still loved him, he won. As long as he knew that her heart stayed with him, he came out on top. Every angry word or hateful curse she could hurl at him could not bring him off his throne. Without turning around, she answered him.

"Always, Tom. I will always love you." She could allow him to have that power over her. There was no use in denying where her soul belonged.

When they came out of the Pensive, there were no words to be said. They all knew this would come. McGonagall had to have left Tom Riddle, because he had to become Lord Voldemort and she had to become the esteemed, loyal, righteous Transfiguration Professor they all loved. And yet, it was painful to watch her give up the love that once was.

"That's not what I expected…"

"I agree, Ginny, but now I'm not sure what I expected." Harry drummed his fingertips on the table, deep in thought.

"I thought they would have a big fight or something," said Ron. "But that was so calm. I mean, expect for the part with her crying, but still…they just decided to end it as if it was perfectly normal."

"But it wasn't normal. They both clearly still loved each other, but had grown so far apart." Hermione shook her head and let out a sigh.

The kitchen had grown quiet, something that had been happening very often in the Weasley household. Even with the excitement of the upcoming wedding, there was always a somber mist settling about the house. This was still a war and people were still dying. Harry picked up the next letter and began to read.

"I applied to teach at Hogwarts in late November of 1956. Professor Dumbledore interviewed me for the Transfiguration position, as Headmaster Dippet was of ill health. It was no secret that Albus would be becoming Headmaster soon, which is why they were interviewing for the Transfiguration post. Albus was always a true believer in second chances. There was no question that I had always been a favorite of his, but we had little contact over the years after I married Tom. Everyone said I was shoo-in for the job, being as I had studied under Griselda for many years and had excelled in the subject when I was at school. I, however, had my doubts. I was unsure of how Albus would receive me. I don't know why I was afraid, perhaps it was just that I always thought he was disappointed in my marriage to Tom and perhaps now he would be disappointed that I had let our marriage fail. Albus had a forgiving heart, one that some people took for granted, but I have never met a soul that believed in me as much as he did."

Minerva walked swiftly through the halls of Hogwarts. She looked very thin in her green cloak and her heals clacked along the stone floor. Even though it had been over ten years since her last time in the castle, she knew exactly how to get to Professor Dumbledore's office. When she arrived at his door, she slipped off the pointed hat on her head to reveal a tight knit bun and rapped on the door with her other hand.

"Come in." Without hesitation, she grasped the handle and pushed the door open. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk on the far side of the room. There was an empty chair on the other side of the desk, which is where Minerva took her seat. He didn't say anything until she was completely seated with her hat in her lap and hands folded over the hat.

"Mrs. Riddle, I must say I was surprised to get your owl." Dumbledore looked up from his work to the young woman seated before him. There was no twinkle in his eye; no trace of admiration for his once favorite student.

"I needed a change of pace and scenery, sir."

"With all of your training, do you not feel you may be a little overqualified?"

Minerva stared evenly back at him. "No more than yourself, sir." At her cheeky words, a smile played out across the older wizard's lips and he sat back in the chair with a familiar twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Armando will be retiring at the beginning of December. When will you be able to start?"

"As soon as possible, sir." She glanced down at her hat and ran her fingers along the brim. "It is customary for Professors to stay at Hogwarts, correct?"

Dumbledore nodded as his expression turned into one of concern. "My dear, I do not believe I have completely expressed my condolences for young Selene's tragic death, I-"

Minerva held up a hand to stop him, saying, "No need, sir. I received your letter. My apologies for not writing back." Clearly, she did not wish to speak of her daughter and Dumbledore did not push the subject.

"I am just letting you know my door is always open."

"Thank you, sir."

"And, Minerva, stop calling me sir. You are no longer my student."

"Well then, thank you…" She paused as she regarded him slightly, "Albus."

"I will send you an owl with your starting date." He stood up and extended his hand across the desk. She shook it and turned for the door. "Good luck, Professor Riddle."

Minerva stopped in her tracks. Turning around she fitted the hat on her head. With her hair pulled up and the serious look on her face, she was identical to the woman they knew. The look she shot in Dumbledore's direction was serious and final.

"McGonagall. My name is Professor McGonagall."

Preview: Painful Confessions

"This is pain!" His voice was raised, a sign he was slowly losing his composure. "And pain is all you will ever be able to feel Minerva. Every man who suffers under my wand may beg for death. Every child that cries as my mark is placed over their home can fear their own demise. Every witch, wizard, and Muggle will associate death with the name Lord Voldemort. They can all see their death at my hand. But you my dear, will never be able to escape life. For, as long as my heart beats, yours will as well." He released her roughly and she seemed to lose her Gryffindor bravery for a moment as her green eyes filled with fear.