Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Gold and Goblins!

Hermione's heels clicked briskly on the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley as she made her way to The Daily Prophet for work. The morning sun was just breaking over the top of Gringott's bank, which she assumed was already astir with news of their potential rival institution. She wore a new set of robes she'd acquired from Twillfit and Tattings. She was garbed entirely in white; the skirt of her sleek sheath dress ended just above her knees and her outer robes rose in a high collar with silver and gold embellishment and fabric that fell to her ankles; their long sleeves came down to her elbows and then fell, tapering dramatically past her knees.

Hermione had taken extra care with her appearance this morning as she had a meeting in the afternoon at the Ministry of Magic with the Minister himself, as well as several other important individuals to discuss the creation of the new bank. She was quite right about her influence at The Prophet and her standing in Britain's social circles being vastly more compelling than a minor ministry position, an auror badge, or a job in legislation. The buzz around Hermione Dumbledore, bolstered by her status symbol as a prolific writer and as an ascending socialite, her cutting-edge sense of fashion, the scandalous rumors of her birth and lineage, the reports of her academic brilliancy, magical proficiency, and infectious charisma, all served to create a larger-than-life picture of Hermione that Great Britain was entirely enamored with. She was invited to all of the parties, Ministry events, and galas. Hermione's brilliant suggestions, which were thrown out casually at dinner parties and over tea, were immediately brought to the higher-ups and she found herself being owled daily with invitations to "discuss her strategic recommendations" further. It was everything Hermione had dreamed of; the chance to make some difference in the magical world at large.

Of course, she had made a few political enemies; particularly those who did not share her optimistic view of the world, muggles, magical creatures, and muggle-borns alike. But there would always be a few bigots in the world, Hermione surmised, and she didn't allow it to dull her shine.

She entered the offices and made her way to the second floor where her desk sat in front of a window in the newsroom. The large room was currently a swarming beehive of writers, copy editors, and quick-quotes quills. Her desk overlooked Gringott's, directly across the street from the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

She gazed down the dark and misty side street, a nervous feeling stirring in the pit of her stomach like sinister butterflies flapping their wings. Hermione had underestimated Tom Riddle. She knew that in the original timeline, which she wasn't quite sure she was still in, he had worked for Borgin and Burkes for some ten years or so before murdering Hepzibah Smith in order to create horcruxes out of Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. Then, he disappeared for another ten years, traveling the world, searching for Ravenclaw's diadem, and submerging himself in the Dark Arts, only to emerge back in Britain. Then he was almost physically unrecognizable due to the dramatic magical transformations he had undergone. She assumed that during that time, which would've been around the 1960s or 1970s, he would have begun to raise support and build an army, and then brand his followers with the Dark Mark.

In essence, she wrongly thought that Riddle had not been up to much at all in his younger years working as a shopboy.

Clearly, she was mistaken. He was already functioning in the role of a Dark Lord, planting seeds of unrest and sedition. He had a carefully laid plan, and his little sleeper cell of Death Eaters was primed and poised for his later return to Britain, waiting to undergird his rise to power.

She would need to work extra hard to undo the seeds of dissension that Riddle was planting. Thankfully, Tom hadn't yet created the majority of his horcruxes. She had arrived here at the very exposition of his murderous career, so she could hopefully find the journal and somehow pry that bloody ring off his finger and destroy them. Lucius Malfoy had been in possession of the journal, so perhaps Abraxas was entrusted with its care first. Hermione thought slyly that she might be able to convince Tom and Abraxas to give her the items. She could catch more flies with honey, after all.