« THE RISE OF A KING AND THE FALL OF A QUEEN »

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« They say heroes are not always better than villains because they sacrifice you for the greater good. They say villains have no such compunction, that they will burn the world for you, but it's not true. Proof of this : Tom Riddle is not a good person and he won't hesitate to burn her for his future world. He won't hesitate to sacrifice her for more power. He will burn anything that gets in his way. Aliena knew it and yet, she let herself burned for him. »

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MAY 1998

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Harry looked at the room. The headmaster's office - Dumbledore's old office - had not changed. It had remained the same as he remembered it, with the same furniture and trinkets displayed in glass cabinets that made a soft, comforting tinkling sound. Here, in this room, he had the impression of being out of time. It was as if he was elsewhere, far from the ravages of the battle, far from the living mourning theirs dead.

He was far away from everything.

He almost felt as if his professor would appear at any moment, eyes shining with mischief behind his half-moon glasses, and offer him some sweets before taking place in his armchair. But that was impossible. Dumbledore was dead. Like so many.

The young man held back a sigh, he didn't want to think about it. Not now. He took a few steps, and his green eyes were immediately drawn, like a magnet, to the finely crafted, gilded cabinet resting in one corner. The one that held all the memories Dumbledore had collected over the years.

Memories about Tom Riddle.

For a moment, Harry wondered what to do with them. Keep them ? Hide them ? Throw them away ? This was a life's work which had enabled him to defeat Voldemort. There was something almost sacred about it. Dumbledore had spent a considerable amount of time gathering them all, one by one, but now, what use would they be ?

He approached, looking closely at the many vials in which small white filaments floated. Memories locked forever in a hermetically sealed glass cage. Dumbledore's neat, cursive handwriting adorned the various labels, some of which had yellowed with age. It was then that Harry first noticed a drawer at the base of the cabinet, one he'd never paid attention to, until now. He frowned and opened it without further hesitation. It too contained vials of memories, far fewer in number than Tom Riddle's, but arranged and labeled with the same care. There must have been at most twenty of them. Harry took one delicately between his fingers and could read on the label :

« Aliena Bletchey - August 1944 »

Footsteps behind his back drew his attention. He turned to see Minerva McGonagall, features drawn and her usual strict bun undone, approaching slowly. She raised an eyebrow as she noticed the vial he still held in his hands.

"Who was Aliena Bletchey ?" Harry asked bluntly.

He didn't know if his former professor of transfiguration knew the answer, but he hoped she did. This girl - whoever she is - must have been some importance to be entitled to her own collection of memories kept by Dumbledore. An expression of genuine surprise passed over McGonagall's face.

"It's been a long time since I've heard that name," she paused, thinking about it. "Decades to be exact."

"Did you know her, Professor ?"

No matter how much Harry thought about it, he was certain Dumbledore had never uttered her name in front of him. Not even once. Who was she ? Who was this girl whose memories were stored alongside those of the greatest dark wizard of all time ?

McGonagall shook her head, moving a few strands of grey hair.

"No, not personally anyway. She studied at Hogwarts at the same time as Voldemort and, for a while, Professor Dumbledore thought they were linked," she replied, absent-mindedly running her fingers over the vials. "He collected several memories about them both."

Dumbledore had never spoken to him about this girl, nor about any supposed link between her and Tom Riddle. Dumbledore had secrets, many secrets, he thought bitterly. And he was still discovering new ones, long after his death. Harry was currently just recovering from one of them. The most important. The one that had spelled the end of the war, and the end of Voldemort.

"She died a long time ago, before she graduated." McGonagall released, finally.

"What happened to her ?"

"Nobody really knows, but it's a sad story. She died near the school." she sighed loudly.

Harry blinked.

"Do you think that ... that Voldemort could have killed her ?"

"It is a possibility. Dumbledore thought so, but rumors were rife at the time," she admitted. "It seems to me that her family had been killed by Grindelwald a few months earlier, so a lot of people thought he might have been responsible for her death too. That he wanted to finish what he'd started."

McGonagall cast a glance at the gold cabinet, before turning to face the boy.

"I guess we'll never know the truth. This poor girl died alone, and her only wrong may have been to cross paths with a black wizard. Was it Grindelwald, Voldemort, or both ? Who can say it now ? Those who knew the answer are dead. Stirring up the past is useless, it won't bring her back. "

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[AUTHOR'S NOTE]

In all honesty, I think I've had this story in my head for what ? At least ten years ? And I've never taken the time to write it properly. Aliena and Tom lived only in my head, and their relationship evolved a lot over time. Until few weeks ago, I'd never have thought of writing or even publishing this story, and yet here I am.

I've recently fallen back into my "Tom Riddle Era" following a reading breakdown, and now, all I can think about is this story. I've become obsessed with it. And it's impossible to get on with my other fictions, so let's go. I have to write it down to get it out of my head and move on.

And since I don't like the easy way out, I chose to write it in english. Why ? Because I almost exclusively read books and fanfiction in english now (and also because the vocabulary is richer. I seriously challenge anyone to translate "good girl" or anything like that into french without it becoming awkward !).

This story has no particular ambition (what a shame for a slytherin). There may be some gaps, scriptwriting facilities. I don't know how many chapters there will be yet, I don't even know what I'm getting myself into. But I've got to write it, so enjoy your reading and don't hesitate to leave a review.

Also, there may be some mistakes. English not being my mother tongue, and if that's the case, don't hesitate to correct me (with kindness please).