The Other Side

Chapter 4: Confrontations

It is a prison that I live in. Not a prison held by chains or walls, although the bonds are just as strong. No, it is stronger. I can break out of walls and chains, but myself? I, who am my worst enemy, my best friend? I am given no guard, no jailer, for I am all of those things. I see the sun from my little window outside. I see the bright blue sky and the puffy clouds. I want to get out, but I cannot. My soul is bound to this labyrinth of nightmares, my heart to Evil Incarnate. I´ve tried fighting it, but like a weed, it keeps coming back. I cannot run forever. He comes. He comes. And when he does, I must be ready. Will I ever be ready?

I hear the pounding on the door of the cell, and suddenly I have a sinking feeling that once they come to take me to him, I will have passed the point of no return.

~*~

"You came."

"I had to," Minerva replied curtly.

"If you had been given a choice, would you have come?" Voldemort asked quietly.

She stared at him for a moment before replying. "Yes."

His back remained towards her as he set down his silver goblet on the bookshelf he faced, murmuring in a voice she could barely hear, "If I were to make the same offer I made to you years ago, would you accept it?"

"No," she replied swiftly.

"Tell me, why do you keep this charade up?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"What charade?"

He turned around to face her, his wand twirling idly in his fingers. "Don´t lie to me, Minerva. I know what you desire the most," he replied, staring at her, staring straight into her soul.

She looked up swiftly; her eyes were hard and unreadable. "You have no idea what I want. You have no idea how I think. You have no idea at all," she said in low voice, enunciating each word clearly.

"Don´t I?" Voldemort asked silkily. She drew in air through clenched teeth, trying to control her emotions. Having elicited the response he desired, Voldemort went on, "You want to prove yourself, do you not? You want to show the world that when they said you couldn´t, you did. Revenge, Minerva...you desire that, do you not?"

Minerva´s eyes flickered briefly. "Nothing so petty," she said in a tone of venomous sweetness.

"Enlighten me. If all those times you fought for the highest grades in your class, all those times you fought with tooth and claw for the better positions, if they weren´t for anything as `petty´ as what I´ve said...then what was it all for?" he taunted.

"I wanted to do well," she snapped.

"There is always a reason to excel, isn´t there?" Voldemort asked.

She remembered entering Hogwarts, arrogant and prideful. Her parents had always assured her that she would do well, but despite those words, she had quickly become disillusioned with herself. In her classes, she found it difficult to break even, harder even to rise above the rest. While she was willing to devote her time, her life even, to being the best, secretly, she felt that she was nothing more than a failure. Her classmates had enjoyed teasing her about her perpetual studying habits. For them, it had been lighthearted in intent, such as the friendly jokes that pass back and forth between good friends. For her, it had become a nightmare. It was only her pride and her stubbornness that prevented her from admitting that she had a fault, that she had a problem. Resentment turned to anger, and then to a bitter hate and a fierce determination to prove to herself, and to the world, that she didn´t have a `problem´, as they so phrased it. She would not back down; she would rise above the rest and show them that she knew what she was doing.

Since then, she had set out to prove that claim. She had become first a prefect, then captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, then Head Girl of her year, before she had entered the Ministry under the Department of Mysteries; and then a teaching job at Hogwarts before becoming Deputy Headmistress.

"I wanted to do well," she repeated stubbornly.

"You are a more powerful witch than even Dumbledore will ever realize. You have the potential to be even greater than you are now, and I´m offering to you that chance to really show the world that you are strong. Are you really that blind to turn the offer of power and prestige down?" he asked lazily.

She eyed him warily. "The price is too high."

"You´ve done it before, Minerva. You´ve played the game before. What´s one more game?" Voldemort asked as he moved towards her.

"No...I won´t...I have nothing...to prove," Minerva stumbled back. Her head was spinning rapidly and every breath was quickly becoming excruciatingly painful; her lissome figure swayed as she stumbled back. He moved quickly to catch her before she could tumble back and guided her to a freestanding mirror opposite the bookshelves. He waited until she was able to stand on her own two feet before pointing to the mirror with one hand, placing the other upon her shoulder to make sure she didn´t suddenly lose her balance again.

"Look in it. What do you see?"

Minerva steadied herself before looking into the clear, smooth surface of the mirror.

"I see myself," Minerva replied flatly.

Voldemort shoved her nearer to the mirror. "Look closer."

Her eyes flickered to the mirror´s surface. She stared at it for a moment, confused, before the image began to contort slowly to form an image that frightened Minerva.

"What...what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, staring at the mirror in a horrified fascination.

"Who you are beneath the surface," he replied in a soft voice. She stared at her image, her mirror image...her true image? She could recognize herself, but she seemed more refined, more elegant, more icy. Her eyes gleamed with hidden knowledge and unfathomable mists, and her mere presence commanded one´s attention. Strength radiated around her; it was oddly sinister and dark. She tore her eyes off to face Voldemort with a defiant look

"Liar," Minerva hissed.

"I lie to no one," Voldemort replied coldly.

"You lie to everyone," she snarled, her fist clenched tightly.

"Then you are a fool not to believe the mirror. Remember your young visitor," he said coolly. She froze and shook her head numbly.

"Think on it," he said in a solemn voice, whisking out of the room soundlessly.

"It can´t be true...can it?" Minerva whispered. Her nerves and her mind badly shaken, she stumbled out of the room. She didn´t notice the Death Eaters ushering her back to the cell, didn´t notice it at all until the door slammed shut behind her.

She stared at her cell blankly, and then at her bruised and battered self. All of a sudden, she began to laugh. It was soft at first, but it quickly became a hysterical laugh before the ground shifted beneath her feet. Her head hit the ground, and then the world was black.