Okay – here I am, finally posting again after far too long. I sincerely apologise to anyone still following this story but a frighteningly busy first term at university followed by destroying my internet at home have delayed me…sorry.

Thank you so much to all who have reviewed – its great to get some feedback.

Disclaimer from the beginning still applies – the characters, settings etc are not mine.

Now, on with the tale…

Sitting at the staff table in the Great Hall, Dumbledore scanned the Gryffindor table for Minerva and could not help but notice her absence.

After he had finished eating he made his way over to Kim and William and paused before them.

"Have you seen Miss McGonagall?" he queried.

Kim shook her head, "Not since she left us to go to divination."

Kim and William exchanged concerned glances.

"We heard about the prophecy, Professor," ventured William, "Everyone was talking about in the Gryffindor common room. And, well, some people were quite…"

"Nasty," finished Kim uncertainly, "In their attitude to her. They, well, you're our head of house – but, Professor, Minerva wouldn't hurt anyone, especially not you."

He nodded his head calmly and left the Great Hall, knowing in an instant that she had gone looking for privacy, knowing where she had gone. He stood in the corridor where the Room of Requirement usually appeared and thought hard, "I want to find Minerva McGonagall."

Nothing happened. He shook his head, unable to understand, and then the realisation hit him. "I want to find Minerva McGonagall to help her, not to upset her."

The door appeared and he smiled, he should have known Minerva would have the sense to think of a requirement sufficient to keep potential enemies out.

"Minerva," he said softly as he pushed open the door.

She looked up from a book she was reading and her eyes gazed into his.

"Professor."

"I noticed you were not at dinner, Minerva."

"It didn't seem like a good idea."

"Because of what happened in your divination class today?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"Minerva, I trust you, I hope you understand that. Prophecies are not always," he paused, "Shouldn't always be considered a correct explanation of things to come."

"How do you mean? Do prophecies come true or not?"

Dumbledore sighed, "Minerva, reasons matter, I – I want you to come with me, to see someone."

"Who?"

"You'll see."

Dumbledore led Minerva towards the Headmaster's office, muttered the password, and stepped onto the staircase with her.

"Headmaster Dippet?" she asked.

"No," he replied, reaching out to open the door to Dippet's office.

As they stepped inside a voice came from the shelves, "What do you want me to tell her, Albus? That the prophecy is wrong?"

Minerva's eyes scanned the shelf, "The sorting hat," she whispered.

"I just want you to talk to her," Dumbledore replied. "I will wait on the staircase so you can speak privately."

The Hat sighed and gave a dismissive nod. Dumbledore opened the door and stepped back onto the staircase, closing the door behind him.

"Miss McGonagall," said the Hat curtly.

"Sorting Hat," she responded similarly.

After a short pause she whispered, "Should I have gone to Slytherin after all?"

"Why?"

"Because of the prophecy."

"Have you actually done anything yet?"

"No, but…"

"Well then you're being a little hasty. I told you didn't I? It all comes to a choice – your choice. The prophecy does not mean what you believe it to, not yet."

"Not yet?"

"No future is guaranteed to follow, no prophecy can be considered true until it has happened."

"But you think it will happen?"

"I think what happens will be your choice."

"I can stop it?"

"Maybe, time will tell."

"But what if I can't? What if I kill him?"

"What if it is the right thing to do?"

"What? But – how? How can it ever be the right thing to do?"

"I don't know. I don't see the future as you wish me to. I don't see what will happen because no one can see that, the future changes. I may catch a glimpse of many different futures but I can never tell you for certain what will come to pass."

"I'm afraid of myself," she whispered.

"If you try to choose what is right, you will be fine. But you must trust in your friends and you must judge people on what you know, not what you are told. There are so many liars, who would lead from truth and good to their own end, but you must stand by those you know and believe, trust in your heart, as a true Gryffindor, and it will not lead you astray."

She stared at him with confused eyes, "I will try to do what you say," she said softly, "Although I don't understand what you mean, I doubt you will explain any further."

The Hat smiled, "You are correct, I will say no more. I can only guide you from my glimpse and it is vague and uncertain. I see more the emotions that govern those involved rather than the events themselves. It is those emotions which dictate our choices and help me to understand each student and the House in which they belong."

Minerva nodded and headed for the door.

"Trust yourself," the Hat called after her in an unusually soft tone, "For now at least."

She turned in the doorway, "Thank you."

"You're Minerva McGonagall, aren't you?"

Minerva turned to look at the boy behind her. It was the Slytherin first year from the Sorting, Tom Riddle.

"Yes. Why?" Her voice was sharp; she did not trust Slytherins.

"I'm Tom Riddle," he said.

"I know."

"I'm a friend of your brother, Valerius."

Minerva paused at that. Valerius was now in his seventh year, and Riddle merely his first; she could not imagine how they would come to be friends.

"I heard about the prophecy," Riddle continued.

She turned away.

He caught hold of her arm, "So did Valerius, and your parents."

She turned to look at him. Her eyes fixed upon his cold green ones and she felt frozen for a moment. Then she remembered he was only a first year, younger than her, less experiences, less powerful. She placed her hand on her wand inside her robes, just in case, and spoke firmly.

"Riddle, please let go of my arm, I have no interest in my family's opinions."

He obeyed but his eyes caught hers once more, "You are a Slytherin," he murmured, "Aren't you, really? You belong with us but you're pretending to be one of them. I admire that."

"I'm not pretending anything," Minerva responded curtly before stalking away.

She glanced behind her once as she left. He was still standing there, watching her. An involuntary shiver shook her slightly and she hoped he had not noticed.