The Inquistor of Inquistors

Chapter One: Mold On A Brilliant Foundation

The large, stormy castle finally became home to the short, squat teenager, and she buried herself in her studies, trying to ease the pain that had arrived so prematurely in her life. As the years passed, each one becoming seemingly shorter and short, she decided that she would set her ambitions high and seek revenge on all those who had made her life a living hell.

She went from a bullied underdog to the top dog; students began to fear her strict, harsh ways. Her anger towards the world radiated in every word she spoke, although she still remained in some eerie, mysterious way, the sweet girl she once was. After becoming prefect for Ravenclaw house in her fifth year, she made the decision that would change her life forever.

Although she had never gotten over her near obsession over Tom, she had begun to concentrate on her studies to the point where he was driven away from her piercing glare, and tossed aside for casual longings. But, as she neared the end of her fifth year, and he, his seventh, for the first time he acknowledged her one day, as she sat in the library, deeply immersed in a thick, tedious book unaware of his presence.

"What's that you're reading?" he inquired, as Dolores looked up at him startled.

" I'm... I'm..." she stuttered. This was finally her chance. "He's actually acknowledging he fact that I exist!" she though. "It's a book called "Prefects Who Gained Power," she stuttered.

Tom looked at her with even more interest, laying his schoolbook aside and surveying her. His crisp, sharp blue eyes seemed to be penetrating her (very very thick) outer layer, as if he were reading her mind. Dolores suddenly felt very uncomfortable plopped down in the seat, with her bright yellow hair ribbon, and tidy, pink cardigan.

"Is it good?" Tom asked, still not taking his eyes off of her.

"Oh yes, very good. I'm hoping to get into the Ministry after I leave Hogwarts, so I figured it would be a good read," she replied, losing a bit of her uneasiness. After pausing, she continued, "I find the ministry very flawed."

A triumphant look appeared on Tom's face and a smile (a rather chilling one at that) pursed his cold lips, and he appeared devious and paler than Dolores had ever seen him before.

"I agree," he said slowly. "The ministry has allowed mold to build upon its brilliant foundation."

"Quite so," Dolores agreed.

And from that day on, Dolores Umbridge and Tom Riddle were friends. She could feel the power radiating from him; she knew that only if should continued to be friends with him, that he could be her ride to the top, and when she was at the top, she could avenge the death of her best friend and live in peace, knowing she had made something of her accursed life.

As her sixth year dawned, Tom was gone, or so it seemed. She had wondered where her new friend had gone, because now things were back to usual again; there was no one to chat idly with about political philosophy, or no one to tell her secrets and aspirations to. It was back to being pink, dumpy, hideous Dolores, or so it seemed.

On a warm night in September, an owl was perched upon her dormitory door as she walked in from a hard day's batch of classes. Noticing the owl, she peered to see who it was addressed to and smiled. It was to her! Nobody ever wrote to her unless it was her parents, asking her how school was going. "Who would write to me?" she thought.

Dolores hastily opened the letter, tearing through the paper in a most untidy way. She began reading.

Dolores,

This is Tom. I hope I find you well. Right now, I'm working for the ministry in the Department of Mysteries and I must say, I am enjoying myself.

The ministry has been pleased with my work and is allowing me to form a group known as The Death Eaters. I'm very excited about the group, because hopefully we can help bring about changes to the ministry and further look into the secrets of the vast magical world.

One day, I hope that I can aid you in your political ambitions, but for now, I would like you to join me in this elite group. Hopefully, we can find the answers to why poor Myrtle was killed, and the solution to death, after all, the Department of Mysteries holds many answers. Join me soon, and together I think we can do extraordinary things. Also, please refer to me as Lord Voldemort from now on, as it is the name in which I have chosen to lead you with. Hoping to see you soon,

Lord Voldemort

A wide, toadlike grin was inevitable as Dolores began jumping up and down, reading her letter over and over again. This was her chance. She finally sat down that night, and composed a reply to her old friend. "My Lord," she thought admiringly as she watched her tawny owl flutter into the dim night sky.

That summer, she would be joining Lord Voldemort, in more ways than she would have ever imagined, and that night, as she lay in her four-poster bed starting at the high stone ceiling, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness, as if this was more than she bargained for. "But", she though, "I can not disappoint my Lord," although in the end, that's precisely what she would end up doing.