Lord Voldemort's Request

David left the hospital wing first thing on Monday morning, having been restored to full health by Madam Pomfrey.

Chrys escorted him to breakfast and joined up with Arthur and Mike.

"Why did Mary and Dean get heated?" David asked when they were turning into a seventh floor corridor, having been informed by Arthur and Chrys.

The corridor was deserted except for a small girl that had examined a tapestry of trolls in tutus. She looked terrified upon seeing the four sixth years and dropped the heavy brass scales she carried.

This struck Arthur as odd. Why would she be on her own?

"It's alright." Chrys said, helping the girl out, repairing the scales with her wand. The girl didn't even say thank you, remaining rooted to the spot as they then passed and watched them out of sight.

"So, again, why did they get heated?" David asked again.

"Apparently it was because Dean let McLaggen graze him with a Bludger." Chrys said, having heard their discussion up close.

"Arthur!" A voice called from behind them.

"Hi, Luna." Arthur greeted.

"I've been looking for you for a while." She said as she rummaged through her bag.

She then thrust what looked like a green onion, a large spotted toad stool and what looked like a lot of cat litter all into David's hands until he finally pulled out a grubby scroll of parchment that she handed to Arthur.

"I've been told to give you this."

Arthur recognised it to be another invitation from Dumbledore.

"Tonight." He told Mike, David and Chrys once he unrolled it.

"Hey, Luna. I liked your commentary during the match." David said as he handed Luna's things back to her and she smiled vaguely.

"You're making fun of me, aren't you? Everyone says I was dreadful."

"I'm being serious, I really enjoyed it. By the way, what is this?" He added, holding the onion-like object in front of him.

"Oh, it's a Gurdyroot." She said, stuffing the cat litter and the toadstool back in her bag. "You can keep it if you like, I've got a few of them. They're really excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies."

She then walked off, leaving David chuckling, still holding the Gurdyroot.

"She truly is something special, isn't she?" He said before they set off.

The rest of the day went by pretty well and as it neared eight o'clock, Arthur left the common room for Dumbledore's office.

Upon approaching the door to his office, he knocked on the door and when he was told to enter, he put a hand on the door to open it, but it got wrenched open from the inside by Trelawney.

"Aha!" She cried, pointing dramatically at him as she blinked at him through her magnifying spectacles. "So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"

"My dear Sybill…" Dumbledore said in a slightly exasperated voice. "...there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Arthur does have an appointment and I really don't think there is any more to be said -"

"Very well." Trelawney said 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 Arthur and disappeared down the spiral staircase, hearing her stumble halfway down, probably by tripping over one of her trailing shawls.

"Please close the door and sit down, Arthur." Dumbledore said, sounding tired.

Arthur did as told, noticing when he took his usual seat in front of Dumbledore's desk that the Pensieve lay between them again and had two more tiny crystal phials of swirling memory.

"She's still unhappy about Firenze teaching, I see." Arthur said.

"Yes, 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 Sybill 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."

He heaved a deep sigh before continuing. "But never mind my staff 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?"

Arthur sighed. He was truly busy ever since and was still trying to make Slughorn able to freely give him the true memory.

"I've been trying to make cracks in Slughorn's walls. It isn't something that can be done quickly, sir. But I'm sure I'll get the memory soon." He said, hoping he didn't disappoint him. "And I have been busy and distracted by other things at the same time, like saving David from being poisoned."

There was a lengthy silence until Dumbledore broke it.

"I see. Well, I do hope that you succeed. It is crucial that you get this memory soon. Because until we have that memory, there won't be any point in meeting after tonight."

"I understand, sir." Arthur replied, bowing his head.

"Then we shall say no more about it just now, but continue with our story where we left off. You remember where that was?"

"Yes, sir." Arthur nodded. "Voldemort killed his father and grandparents, making it look like Morfin did it. Then he went back to Hogwarts and asked Professor Slughorn about Horcruxes."

"Very good. 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?"

"You did." Arthur 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?"

Arthur nodded.

"But now, Arthur, 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 crystal phials that gleamed beside the Pensieve.

"I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."

Knowing that Dumbledore valued his opinion this highly made Arthur now more determined to get Slughorn's memory. Dumbedore then raised the first of the two phials 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. 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, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Special Awards for 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."

"Yeah, Professor Slughorn told me so when I first talked about Voldemort with him." Arthur said.

"I see." Dumbledore said, nodding with a slightly impressed look. "Well, I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time - I was 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 teacher."

Arthur frowned upon hearing this, but he soon realised the benefits of being a teacher to Voldemort.

"He would've seen Hogwarts as his home, similar to how I feel about the school. And he would've used this place as a way to recruit more followers."

"Exactly. And even more so, 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."

"So how come he didn't get the job?" Arthur asked.

"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."

"And how did you feel about that, sir?" Arthur asked.

"Deeply uneasy. 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."

"And was he after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job?" Arthur asked, being the logical choice.

"He was. 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 Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specialises, as you know, Arthur, 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, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."

"Not surprising." Arthur muttered, making Dumbledore faintly 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 the phial with his wand, the cork flying out and he then tipped the memory into the Pensieve, saying as he did so. "After you, Arthur."

Arthur got to his feet and bent once more into the rippling silver contents till his face touched them. He fell through darkness until he landed in a sitting room in front of a very fat old lady, who wore an elaborate ginger wig and a pink set of robes that flowed around her, making her look like melting iced cake. She looked into a small jewelled mirror and dabbed rouge on her already scarlet cheeks with a large powder puff. Then the tiniest and older house elf Arthur had ever seen laced her fleshy feet into tight satin slippers.

"Hurry up, Hokey!" Hepzibah said with a superior tone. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet."

She then tucked away her powder puff as Hokey straightened up. The top of her head barely reached the seat of Hepzibah's chair and her papery skin hung off her frame like the crisp linen sheet that she wore like a toga.

"How do I look?" Hepzibah then asked, turning her head to admire her face in the mirror at various angles.

"Lovely, madam." Hokey squeaked.

It was clear to Arthur that she was lying through her teeth since Hepzibah wasn't even close to looking lovely.

A tinkling doorbell then rang and both mistress and elf jumped.

"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" She cried and the elf scurried out of the room, a room so crammed full of objects that it seemed difficult for anyone to navigate their way through without knocking something over. There were cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold embossed books, shelves full of orbs and celestial globes and many flourishing pot plants in brass containers. The whole room looked like a mix of a magical antique shop and a conservatory.

The house elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man that Arthur recognised immediately, Tom Riddle. He was dressed in a plan black suit, his hair was a bit longer than it was at Hogwarts and his cheeks were hollowed, yet it suited him: he looked incredibly handsome.

He made his way through the cramped room, having visited it many times before and he bowed low over Hepzibah's fat little hand, brushing his lips on it.

"I bought you flowers." He said quietly, producing a bouquet of roses from nowhere.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" Hepzibah squealed, Arthur noticing that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom… sit down, sit down… where's Hokey… ah…."

Said house elf came dashing back into the room with a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress' elbow.

"Help yourself, Tom. 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….."

Riddle smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" She then asked, batting her lashes.

"Mr Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin made armour. 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!" Hepzibah pouted.

"I am ordered here because of them." Riddle said quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told, Mr Burke wishes me to enquire -"

"Oh, Mr Burke, phooey!" Hepzibah said, waving a little hand. "I've got 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." Riddle said quietly, making her give another girlish giggle.

"I had Hoeky 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." Hokey squeaked, moving across the room with two leather boxes in her hands, one on top of the other.

"Now…" Hepzibah said happily as she took the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap and prepared 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. Arthur edged forward a bit to get a better look and saw that she took out 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!" Hepzibah whispered.

Riddle stretched a long fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle from the silken wrappings. Arthur was sure that he saw a red gleam in his dark eyes as a greedy expression came over his face, which was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, though her tiny eyes were fixed on his handsome features.

"A badger." He murmured as he examined the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was….?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" She said, leaning forwards with a loud creak of corsets and literally pinched 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 out of Riddle's long forefinger and gently put it back in its box, too intent upon setting it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Riddle's face as it was taken away.

"Now, then… where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are - take that away now, Hokey -"

The elf obediently took the boxed cup and Hepzibah then 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. Inside, among the smooth crimson velvet, was a heavy golden locket.

Arthur's eyes widened with utter shock as he saw a locket that looked exactly like it at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Riddle reached out his hand without an invite 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, like the one on the locket Arthur saw and held before.

"That's right!" Hepzibah said in delight. "I had to pay an arm and a leg 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, apparently from a ragged looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value -"

There was definitely a scarlet in Riddle's eyes at her words and Arthur saw 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 it back and Arthur was scared that Riddle wouldn't let go of it, but it slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"

She now looked at him full in the face and for the first time, her foolish smile faltered.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Oh yes." He said quietly. "Yes, I'm very well…."

"I thought - but a trick of the light, I suppose -" She said, looking unnerved, no doubt having seen the red gleam in Riddle's eyes. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again… the usual enchantments…."

"Time to leave, Arthur." Dumbeldore said quietly.

As the little elf bobbed away with the boxes, Dumbledore grasped Arthur above the elbow and they rose up through oblivion and back into Dumbledore's office.

"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene." Dumbledore said as he resumed his seat, as did Arthur. "Hokey the house elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress' evening cocoa by accident."

"That's just ridiculous!" Arthur spat angrily.

"I see we are of one mind. Certainly, there 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' cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little known poison." Dumbledore explained. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused -"

"Voldemort modified her memories, just like Morfin!"

"Yes, that is my conclusion, too. And, just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey -"

"- all because she was a house elf!" Arthur said in pure anger.

"Precisely. She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink and nobody at the Ministry bothered to enquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over - but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket. By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had realised that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time."

Arthur soaked in all of this, focusing on how Voldemort took both the cup and the locket. It was like he took Marvolo Gaunt's ring from Morfin. It seemed he was collecting trophies, like he did in the orphanage.

"Now, if you don't mind, Arthur, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed another murder; whether it was his first since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. He wanted the two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted old woman showed him. Just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket."

"Yet he wouldn't think it was mad to risk everything to steal them." Arthur noted, knowing that Voldemort wouldn't care for what everyone would see as important.

"Exactly. Of course, those objects mean a lot to him. Naturally, it is not difficult to imagine that he saw the locket, at least, as rightfully his."

"Of course, it belonged to his ancestor. But Hufflepuff's cup?" Arthur frowned.

"It had belonged to another of Hogwarts' founders, I think he still felt a great pull towards the school and that he could not resist an object so steeped in Hogwarts' history. There were other reasons, I think… I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you, in due course. And now for the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory for us. Ten years separate Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing…."

Arthur got to his feet again as Dumbledore poured the second memory into the Pensieve.

"Whose memory is this one?"

"Mine."

And so Arthur dived in after Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass and landed in the very office they had just left.

Arthur spotted Fawkes, slumbering happily on his perch, and behind the desk was Dumbledore. He looked similar to the one that stood beside Arthur, but with both hands whole and undamaged and his face was less lined.

Another difference was that, outside through the window, there was snow, which fell in bluish flecks past the window and built up on the outside ledge.

This Dumbledore seemed to be waiting and soon, a knock was heard on the door.

"Enter."

Arthur looked and leaned his head back in shock. Voldemort had arrived and entered the room. His features didn't match what Arthur saw emerging from the stone cauldron almost two years beforehand, his eyes not yet being scarlet and his face wasn't mask-like, yet he was no longer the handsome Tom Riddle. It was like his features were burned and blurred like wax and were oddly distorted, as well. And the whites of his eyes now had a permanently bloody look, Arthur also noticing that he didn't have the slits in his pupils yet. He also wore a long black cloak and his face was as pure and pale as the snow that glistened on his shoulders.

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise, no doubt having expected Voldemort.

"Good evening, Tom." He said easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you." Voldemort said, taking the seat that Dumbledore had gestured - the very one that Arthur vacated in the present. "I heard that you had become Headmaster." He then said, his voice now slightly higher and colder than it was before. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve." Dumbledore smiled. "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome." Voldemort said. "I have come a long way."

Dumbledore stood and swept his way to a cabinet where he currently kept the Pensieve, but was now full of bottles. After handing Voldemort a glass of wine and poured one for himself, Dumbledore then returned to sit behind his desk.

"So Tom… to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Voldemort didn't answer at once, merely sipping his wine.

"They do not call me 'Tom' any more. These days, I am known as -"

"I know what you are known as." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "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 charges; youthful beginnings."

He raised his glass like he was toasting Voldemort, who remained expressionless. Regardless, Arthur felt a change in the atmosphere of the room: Dumbledore's refusal to allow Voldemort to set the terms of the meeting came from him not using his chosen name. It was clear that Voldemort took it as such.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long." Voldemort said after a short pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well…" A still smiling Dumbledore said. "...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 see it still." Voldemort said. "I merely wondered why you - who's so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who has twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister -"

"Three times at the last count, actually. But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Voldemort inclined his head, lacking a smile and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore didn't break the silence that now stretched between them, as he was waiting with a look of pleasant expectancy for Voldemort to say something.

"I have returned 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 can gain from no other wizard."

Dumbledore had considered Voldemort over the top of his glass for a while before he spoke.

"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 stayed impassive as he then said "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness', what you have been doing, do you?" Dumbledore asked delicately.

"Certainly." Voldemort said as his eyes looked like they were burning 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 him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain… forgive me… woefully ignorant."

Now was when Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, a very evil thing that was more threatening than a look of fury and 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." Dumbledore suggested.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts? 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?"

Arthur saw that Voldemort didn't expect Dumbledore to know that name and saw that his eyes flashed red once more and the slit-like nostrils flared.

"My friends…" He said after a moment's pause. "...will carry one without me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends." Dumbledore said. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken."

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them - Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov - 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 was no doubt that his detailed knowledge of those that Voldemort travelled with was less welcome to Voldemort, though he rallied nearly at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh, no, merely friendly with the local barman." Dumbledore said lightly. "Now, Tom…" He set down his now empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a 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 at him with a coldly surprised expression.

"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. 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 then stood up, now looking less like Tom Riddle than ever as his features were thick with rage.

"This is your final word?"

"It is." Dumbledore replied as he stood.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing." Dumbledore said as 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…."

For a second, Arthur thought that Voldemort was going to reach for his wand, but he simply turned away and closed the door behind him as he left.

Arthur felt Dumbledore's hand close around his arm again and they stood together on the near same spot, just no snow building on the window ledge and Dumbledore's hand was black and dead looking.

"Did you ever find out why he did come back?" Arthur asked upon looking up at his face.

"I have ideas, but no more than that."

"What ideas, sir?" Arthur asked.

"I shall tell you, Arhtur, when you have retrieved that memory from Professor Slughorn. When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear… to both of us."

Arthur understood as he watched Dumbledore walk to the door and held it open for him.

But one thought was starting to nag at him.

"Was he the reason, sir? That the Defence Against the Dark Arts post is jinxed?"

Dumbledore looked directly at him for a moment before he replied.

"Yes. That was the aftermath of our little meeting."

This is my favourite chapter in all of the Potter books. Seeing Voldemort's charming ways and trying to get the DADA post is just so fascinating to me. It makes me wish for a film or a mini-series about Voldemort's life, ending with his first defeat by Harry Potter.