i am lord voldemort • Tom Riddle

XXII

Her feet touched ground again only a moment later, though it took another second to reorient herself enough to focus on the polished obsidian shoes treading lightly on the wavy grass before her. Knowing exactly what she'd find, she followed the shoes to legs, past the ornately designed plum and gold embroidered robes, and finally landed on an ageless, instantly recognizable face.

Mouth dry, she managed, "Hello, Uncle."

It came out like a breath, the strain in her voice palpable. Grindelwald raised a hand to her cheek, running his knuckles softly down the slope of her face. He hadn't changed at all, for better or for worse. Despite all he was guilty of and all she'd done to avoid seeing him, she couldn't help the weight that fell from her chest at the sight of him standing so equanimous before her.

"You've done something to your hair," he noted, tone low and soothing. "But, I'm afraid, blonde doesn't quite suit you."

Ophelia didn't even notice him draw his wand before the colour started leaching from blonde back to a blinding silver-white, like a bizarre age progression, until their resemblance was unmistakable. They could have been father and daughter, or even twin brother and sister lost to each other by decades of time.

"How?" How did you find me? How'd you know I was here?

"You know better than to ask that."

He was right. It was glaringly obvious. "You've been having me followed, or... or somehow you've managed to track me."

"Don't look so accusing, child, of course I had to make sure you were safe— what was it you've been calling yourself? Ophelia? You wouldn't believe how I laughed when I heard that name. You truly do have a sense of humor— but you know I won't share my methods. You'll just work to find ways around them and then I'll have to use different methods to get the same result. A waste on both our parts."

It wasn't malicious. Just a statement of fact that Ophelia couldn't really contend with. The mention of her birth name, however, brought heat to her cheeks. Why did his presence reduce her back to a disobedient child, even after almost four years?

"Why are you here?" She was glad to hear the bite in her voice, even if she didn't feel it. Even if she couldn't help but be mesmerized by his eyes or manage to pull her own away.

Grindelwald merely smiled, amused. "I was content to let you keep playing this cat and mouse game, Ophelia." He enunciated each syllable of her name with a light chuckle, like an inside joke only they shared. In a way, it was. "But that was only when I thought you were safe. I'm not ashamed to say I was mistaken. I can admit my own folly. I thought Albus, of all people, would be able to put everything aside and keep you from harm, but I was wrong. So unforgivably wrong." With the flip of a switch, the light humour in his eyes was smothered, going dark. Dangerous. "You're coming home with me."

Movement in her periphery snapped Ophelia out of her reverie. She jerked away.

"I'm not, actually."

"You think I haven't heard how you nearly died today?" He shook his head, assuming the role of the ever disappointed parent. "They can't keep you safe at that school. Not the way I can. It would be irresponsible of me to leave you now. You're lucky I don't rip that castle apart brick by brick— you're lucky I didn't do it when I first got the news that you we're going to die. It was awfully tempting, except something told me you wouldn't appreciate the effort, so I stayed my hand. I let you sneak out. I let you come to me."

Ophelia's thoughts raced a mile a minute, trying to wrap her mind around how he could have possibly known all that. They were careful to avoid being spotted as they left, and less than ten people even knew she'd been injured so gravely in the first place. At last, it hit her.