Unexpected Encounters | Tom Riddle

Lilia had barely adjusted to her time at the Malfoy manor when it was time to return to Hogwarts. The transition felt abrupt, and she wished for just a few more days to breathe. When she walked into her dorm with Evangeline and Celeste by her side, a small sigh escaped her. The familiar sights of Hogwarts offered little comfort. She had completed three months of her sixth year since being thrust back into the past. That time had been enough to observe and analyze Tom Riddle, piecing together what made him tick. He wasn't Voldemort, not yet, and she had decided with firm resolve that she wouldn't hesitate to disrupt the timeline if it meant preventing the wars that defined her past.

Her existence in this era felt almost spectral: working in the background, unseen and unacknowledged. It wasn't fair, but fairness had never been a constant in her life. If she could ensure a better future for the wizarding world, she would accept the burden, even if no one ever knew what she had done.

The first day back was unforgiving. Lilia scheduled a meeting with Professor Dumbledore before classes began, desperate to address the repercussions of Grindelwald's growing interest in her. She wasn't sure how much to reveal, but she decided honesty was her safest bet. At least when it came to him.

Lilia stood in front of Dumbledore's desk, her hands clasped tightly to keep from fidgeting. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the morning light, but it did little to ease the tension in her chest. Dumbledore sat on the other side, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her, radiating a calm yet attentive presence.

"A lot has happened during the winter break," she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. Dumbledore nodded, gesturing for her to continue. "Grindelwald knows who I am." That drew a flicker of surprise across his face, though he quickly masked it. "And how, if I may ask, did he come to know that?" Lilia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I'm not really sure... But he is interested in his own death in the future." Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unreadable, though a shadow passed over his features. "I see." "He wants to know who kills him," Lilia added, her voice faltering slightly. "And he's determined to find out." There was a long pause, and Lilia could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. Finally, he asked, "Do you know who it is?" She nodded. "I do." Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, though his voice remained calm. "Then it is not just your life that is in danger. Whoever this person is, they are now a target as well." "Can Hogwarts protect us, Professor?" She asked, the weight of her question heavy in the air.

"Hogwarts has stood for centuries, its walls imbued with protections crafted by the greatest witches and wizards of their time," he replied, his tone reassuring yet thoughtful. "But Grindelwald is no ordinary wizard. He is... brilliant in ways most would not understand. He would not dare launch a direct attack here. Not when he knows what this castle stands for and who resides within it. That being said, I will look into strengthening our wards further."

Lilia nodded, comforted by his confidence, though a gnawing doubt lingered. She didn't have the heart to tell him that Voldemort had eventually conquered Hogwarts, reducing its defenses to rubble during her time. "Thank you," Lilia said softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm sorry for all of this, for bringing this danger here." Dumbledore's expression softened, a trace of a smile playing on his lips. "This is not your fault, my dear. Grindelwald's actions are his own, as are his choices. You cannot bear the burden of what you could not control."

His words were kind, but Lilia caught something deeper in his tone, a faint wistfulness that made her pause. For a moment, it was as though he wasn't speaking solely to her but also to himself. She ventured cautiously, her curiosity piqued. "Do you know him well, Professor? Grindelwald, I mean." Dumbledore's smile faded slightly, and he turned his gaze toward the window, where the morning sun filtered through. "Once upon a time," he said, his voice quiet, almost reverent, "we were... acquainted. It was long ago, when we were both young and full of ideals. We believed we could change the world, though our visions of what that world should be differed greatly in the end."