9 December 1990

What remained of Lord Voldemort wanted a body and a position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Quirrell provided both. It was an adequate arrangement for the time being but it certainly had its drawbacks.

To act as a special messenger was to approach Muggles and Mudbloods and expose the existence of the wizarding world. It was required of all Hogwarts staff to serve in this capacity whenever necessary, including Quirrell. There was no excusing himself from the task without raising suspicion. The Dark Lord, therefore, had no choice.

And so, he found himself in RAF Valley on Anglesey. Arrangements had been made by the Ministry of Magic to grant him access to the base. The family, however, had no warning of his arrival. At least that's what he thought as he made his way through the residential area. A moment before his fist made contact with the door, it opened.

A girl stood before him, eyes filled with scrutiny and impatience. Strange that that should be the first thing he noticed when her left cheek was marked a furious purple.

"Finally," she said.

Odd. Though, not terribly shocking. Muggles never did have much in the way of manners. A simple hello was often too much to ask of these bipedal barn animals.

"Good afternoon," Quirrell spoke while Voldemort observed the scene. "I'm Professor Quirinus Quirrell."

The girl, introducing herself as Guinevere Knight, stuck out her hand to shake and for the sake of appearances, he obliged. That was a mistake. The moment their skin touched, he felt the terrible inkling she was looking at him. Him. Her gaze pierced straight through Quirrell and fixed on Voldemort. Unable to help it, he snatched his hand away.

Impossible. Surely that was impossible? Under his guidance, Quirrell had mastered Occlumency well enough to keep a fully-trained wizard out of his head. His mental barriers ought to be impenetrable to this uneducated brat.

"I'm here to talk to your parents about—"

"About magic. I know," the girl's tone was one of unshakeable certainty. She pointed to her bruised cheek. "I told them you were coming. They didn't believe me."

A Seer.

His borrowed blood ran cold.

Very few things made the Dark Lord nervous. He made a point of killing such things. What demented twist of fate had brought her into the world and him to her doorstep? Seers were rare enough in wizard families, how could two ignorant Muggles produce one?

"I'm here to tell them about a school," he said. "For magic."

Her probing stare held firm. How much did she comprehend? Did she know his name? Did she grasp the nature of possession? Or did she merely sense something off about this man in front of her? Whatever the case, it was intolerable. He could not abide her presence at Hogwarts if she was likely to expose him. He could not deliver such a valuable tool into the hands of Albus Dumbledore.

Once again, he rued the loss of his powers. With Legilimency, it would have taken him only a moment to invade the minds of her parents and plant the decision to keep her in Muggle school. Fate had well and truly sided against him in this. Quirrell was no Legilimens and Voldemort could only access the magic the younger wizard possessed.

The girl was still blocking his path into the house.

"Won't you let me in?"

Voldemort had planned to let Quirrell handle the conversation but now he was determined to speak with the parents himself. Persuasion was one talent he hadn't lost and witchcraft was an easy thing to vilify even in the guise of a sales pitch. They would not accept her, not on his watch.

"No."

He didn't get a chance to respond before the door slammed shut. She must have foreseen his intentions. Great Salazar, this child was a nuisance.

Breaking in wouldn't help. Coming back tomorrow, a simple course of action anywhere else, was not so easily done on a military base. Especially now. It was imperative he draw the least amount of attention possible and he'd drawn too many eyes already just by wearing a turban. Leaving was the simplest and most appealing option. He need only feed a convincing lie to the Headmaster. 'I tried my best, Albus, but they were having none of it.' Hardly unusual in these cases. Let her share the same fate as so many other Muggle-borns.

How best to keep his secret until his powers were restored? He never used to spend so long weighing his options but this past decade had been the longest of his existence. Long enough to teach him the caution he lacked before.

Loath as he was to leave another loose end, he deemed it best to interfere no further. The Seer, by her own doing, had no one to champion her cause and that bruise was an encouraging sign. With any luck, they might just kill her for him. All Voldemort had to do was keep Dumbledore from looking into it.