The Marauders: Year One (female)

56. His Name is Voldemort

There was a knock on the door. Dumbledore shuffled the documents he had been looking at into a pile, and folded his hands under his chin. 'Come in, Minerva!' he called.

She pushed the door open, and stepped in, looking distinctly ruffled. 'How did you know it was me, Albus?'

He smiled, his eyes twinkling mysteriously. 'I have my ways, Minerva,' he answered mysteriously, causing her to press her lips together in annoyance. 'Now, I presume you have a reason for your gracious visit to my humble study today?'

'Hardly humble,' said McGonagall snidely, gesturing at the airy room lined with portraits and gold and silver instruments.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'You seem rather... vexed, Minerva. Everything is all right with you, I hope?'

McGonagall cleared her throat. 'As a matter of fact, there are some rather pressing matters that I'd like to speak with you about--'

Dumbledore cut her off. 'Did you hear about the exploits of our Gryffindor First Years? Reminds me of when I burnt my bed drapes in Fourth Year,' he said reminiscently. 'Accidentally, of course.'

'Yes,' said Minerva tersely. 'I did hear about "the exploits of our Gryffindor First Years". I was there, in fact. And so were several of the Sixth Years, who photographed the whole incident, and no doubt the whole school knows about it now. Yet again, my house never fails to shock and disappoint me,' she said sourly.

The corners of Dumbledore's lips twitched. 'But no doubt you remember some of your own... adventures when you were a student under my care. I'd nearly forgotten what you did to old Bertie Bott in your Fifth Year... That was truly an excellent sample of wandwork.'

Minerva looked at him sharply, and he stopped quickly. 'That's quite enough, Albus,' she said, smoothing the front of her robes. 'My... rowdiness and disorderliness are things of the past.'

His eyes twinkled maddeningly, and not for the first time, Minerva found herself asking why she put up with him. 'I can tell we're going to have an interesting next seven years,' he mused. 'Black and Potter have quite the penchant and proclivity for getting into trouble, so I've heard.'

Minerva snorted. 'If they're not expelled by then.'

'I should hope not... I should hope not...' he replied, looking distant.

Minerva felt it was time to take control of the situation again. 'Leaving that behind us, there were other things I think need to be seen to. Professor Paisley, and the situation, to begin with. We've gotten nowhere, and Persephone tells me she still has grounds for believing that some of our students from Slytherin House are still talking to -- to You-Know-Who,' she said with difficulty.

'His name is Voldemort, Minerva,' said Dumbledore calmly.

McGonagall flinched as if she'd been slapped. She looked at him, and shifted in the seat before his desk. 'Oh, I wish you wouldn't!' she said irritably, pulling at her sleeve in agitation.

'Our fear only adds to his power,' said Dumbledore without expression. 'And I have no intention of letting Tom Riddle have power over myself, or any of the people under my care.'

Minerva stared at him for a minute, then nodded. 'The point is, it's happening, and we have got to stop it. There are young, impressionable minds in this castle, minds that are being shaped and broadened as we speak, and they've got to be shaped by the right people. These children -- under your care, Albus -- they're the next generation of Witches and Wizards, and they are who we're going to be.'

Dumbledore looked at her thoughtfully. 'We will continue to keep an eye on them. The Floo Networks will be watched carefully. And, Minerva...' he said, 'do not hesitate to come to me if anything, even the slightest thing makes you worry or catches your attention. It could be the key.'