i am lord voldemort • Tom Riddle

Alternative Timeline: XXXI

"You've slept long enough, Grindelwald."

Thunder rattling through her skull, Ophelia managed to crack open one eyelid, then another, letting her bleary eyes adjust to the blinding white scape that was the surrounding room. Plain white walls, a spotless stretch of white floor, a glossy white table, where she had been propped up before in anticipation of this very moment. The only splash of color to be seen was the man who spoke, and even that reduced to just his skin, his eyes, and his hair.

Gradually, everything came flooding back, eliciting a muffled groan as a regrettable understanding of her situation took hold. This room, a marvel of sensory deprivation, had to exist some place deep within the Ministry of Magic, who evidently sent the gray clad man to extract information from her.

Back at the castle she knew there was a chance she wouldn't make it far enough from the grounds to Apparate before someone caught up — caught her — but still she couldn't quite believe the worst actually came to pass. She opened her eyes to a bad dream, and perhaps if she slept a few moment's longer she would awaken tucked snuggly into her four poster, the other Gryffindors in her year sleeping soundly nearby while a fire crackled merrily in the Common Room.

It was a nightmare, just not one she could be easily roused from.

Perhaps too late, Ophelia realized she was fast becoming a case-study for not learning from her mistakes. She thought, or perhaps hoped, after being quite nearly jumped in the corridor the previous year by Fenella, Walburga, and those other Slytherin boys, that she might watch her back more, lest an adversary approach from behind. Evidently not. Why do something as foolish as learning in a school? What a silly notion. Utterly preposterous.

She could practically see her uncle's exasperation at leaving herself so exposed, considering his countless lectures in the past insisting she be more careful. Like he could talk. Julius certainly hadn't come for Grindelwald face to face, that was for certain. Hypocrite.

For better or worse, Ophelia had ample time to imagine said exasperated expression in vivid detail. It was either that or agonize in thick silence over the uncertainty of her future, after awakening utterly wandless in an unknown place.

Finally, pulling her thoughts back to order, she took a moment to find her voice. "Grindelwald is my uncle. No one calls me that. That's his title alone."

"I see. We want you to be comfortable during your stay." His expression cementing into one of impartial neutrality, the man coolly offered, "Will Lae suffice?"

No. "Yes."

She couldn't bear to hear 'Ophelia' out of those lips, the one testament to the most peaceful years of her life. Gone forever.

"You put us through quite a bit of trouble."

Be civil, a small voice in the back of her head warned. Very small, indeed, because she elected to ignore it.

"I could say the same about you people," she said.

The man shoved away the wall, ambling just close enough to press his hands flat against the table. He towered over her.

"Let's not beat around the bush. You know why you are here, so I'll come out and say it: you will tell us everything you know about Gellert Grindelwald."

Lae nodded. "For starters, you're pronouncing his name wrong."

His lips thinned. "I was thinking information a little more pertinent to our aims."

"And what would those be?"

"A great many things," he said, "but you will start by explaining how Albus Dumbledore found you and inserted you into that school unnoticed."