No Turning Back

Minerva had never been this angry in her life, and she never would be again. She would never cry again either. Now, she wiped her tears away and breathed deeply, seeking to regain her inner poise. "Essentially widowed at seventeen". She started to familiarize herself with the concept. He was dead. Ulysses was dead. Falling from the observatory window had done it; no one could survive that fall. Minerva had never truly believed the stories; it was just superstition that the window was cursed. It was a handy way of murdering people though, she thought to herself. That was what it was. Murder. It would not go unavenged. Minerva was not going to rush in foolishly; she would not give him anything to use against her, but she would get her revenge.

She knew whom it was who had done this. He might be able to fool the ministry and all of the teachers, but Tom had not pulled the wool over her eyes. Did he actually think that killing her true love would make her fall into his arms, or was it pure vengeance? Did he just want to make her suffer? Well, there was no way of knowing what the psychopath had in mind; however, whatever it was, she was not about to give it to him. Rowena Ravenclaw may have failed to protect her loved ones, and Minerva may have fared no better so far, but she would never give up or give in, to the manipulations of a Slytherin so twisted and cruel. Morgan might be at fault, but the boy had to deal with the consequences of his actions. Minerva hated him. She did. She had never hated anybody before, but Minerva hated Thomas Riddle. She would fight him to the bitter end. Yet she knew she would need to wait until she could do it without negative repercussions. She wanted to blow him to bits, but that would not solve anything. That would be like letting him win. She could tell Albus; he would believe her, but what good would it do; unless she had proof, she could not openly accuse him. She had to persevere. She had to be there when there was no one else to stand against him; she had to save Helga this time. That was one way she could advert the past. Rubeus was imprisoned; Myrtle was dead; Ulysses was dead, but there would be more people who needed her help. The feeling of being needed soothed her. It did not take away the pain, but gave her the strength to endure it.

"Tom will not graduate head boy, that I can do now. It is grossly insufficient but it is something he will not get that out of this crime." she thought to herself, "It's at least a start."

She started shaking again, but managed not to cry. She clutched the windowsill, her knuckles turning white. She looked down at her wedding band and swore never to take it off. Then she whirled around, as she heard footsteps behind her.

It has him. Standing there, devastatingly handsome and unabashed. He looked at her, an expression of concern pasted on his face. She didn't know what to expect. Was he going to laugh at her? Would he pounce her, and attempt to have his way with her? Or was he simply going to push her out the window, and let everyone believe she had committed suicide as well? "Wait" she thought, as that last idea came to her, "I got that from somewhere."

Suddenly she saw Salazar, crying. "She jumped!" he sobbed, "I only wanted to help, but she didn't understand! And I didn't kill him! I didn't kill Myrrdin!" he cried, "You believe me, don't you?" His hazel eyes bore into hers.

She knew he was telling the truth there, ever since he was a small boy, Salazar could never lie to her without her knowledge. "Of course I believe you, my child." She told him, holding him to her.

She had to protect him. Everything was falling apart. Godric would be here soon, and he would not understand as she did. She had to make sure Salazar was far away before Godric found him. For all his goodness, she did not trust Godric to control himself, if he thought Salazar had killed Myrrdin...and now Helga. Godric was impulsive. She was genuinely afraid he might kill the boy, if he found him here.

Minerva gained control of herself and saw Tom once more, whom she wanted to kill, rather than his ancestor, whom she recalled protecting. He stepped toward her, "Min... I heard." he whispered.

"Get away from me..." she warned.

"I just want to help" (this time she knew he was lying),"Minerva...you know how I feel... I would never hurt you."

"Really?" she retorted, "Killing and framing my closest friends is hardly what I would call benevolent"

"I don't know what you are talking about," he said, looking hurt.

"Don't you? Well I do."

"Minerva..." he had her backed up against the window, "Why won't you trust me?"

Minerva struggled to control her emotions. His face was close to hers. She could feel his breath against her cheek. She shuddered. He reached forward and cradled her face in his hand.