Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Faith, Trust, & Piksy Dust

Tom knelt, gazing down at the city of Edinburgh. Magical energy crackled around him like static electricity. A warm breeze caressed his face, and his eyes were cold and hard, glowing bright red with triumph. He was a bit dizzy and lightheaded, but ultimately, his endeavor had been thus far victorious.

He'd fucking done it.

Now, all he had to do was feed that power and grow in his abilities.

Tom's research of late had waxed theoretical, and he found himself studying in the early mornings before work, combing the ancient texts relating to Merlin, or Myrddin's life and magic, his abilities at shapeshifting, potion brewing, and prophecy. He had read Geoffrey of Monmouth's texts, and was currently studying Myrdhinn, ou l'Enchanteur Merlin by La Villemarqué, L'Morte d'Arthur, and The Mystique of Merlin by Cesar Pontieu, but found himself unable to locate any evidence of a particular rumor which one would hear amongst the Celtic witches of Scotland: that Merlin had achieved cross-continental apparation.

Tom had not heard of a witch or wizard alive who had accomplished that particular feat of magic.

It was difficult enough to apparate great distances within one's own country. Not only that, but one typically had to apparate to somewhere one had already been before .

But, in theory, Merlin had been able to apparate anywhere in the world, regardless of whether he'd already traveled to that place or not. The distance was of no consequence.

To apparate great distances would be tricky. Most wizards that attempted it were either killed or severely injured.

Tom salivated at the thought of being able to learn such a practice.

Tom had been practicing this skill for quite some time; he was determined to achieve fluency in its very subtle nuances.

Tom didn't care if he splinched himself. He didn't care if he was injured. He would be the only wizard in this time to successfully apparate across continents.

He had first wanted to test the theory that he could apparate to a location he had not been to before and was not familiar with. He began with short distances, keeping a rather expensive vial of Essence of Dittany with him in case he splinched himself. One had to have some sort of connection with the place, perhaps an acquaintance, a past history, or a mental picture of the terrain.

Tom had apparated successfully to a magical street in London that he had never visited, Vertic Alley, with merely a focus on the name of a shop that was owned by his Slytherin colleague, Upton Stoddard. He was rather pleased with himself that day, and had treated himself and Stoddard to a firewhiskey at The White Wyvern , and then paid a visit to S hyverwretch's Venoms and Poisons in search of a quality Runespoor fang to hang onto in case he did, indeed, decide to poison the Black bastard. He might fucking dose Walburga too, just for spite.

Slowly, Tom began to increase his range of apparation. In his future planning, he had intended that once he had discovered the relics of each Hogwarts founder and created his final horcruxes (provided that it worked; he still was unsure if it was possible to split one's soul seven times) he would travel for several years, taking a space of time to search for Ravenclaw's diadem in Albania. There, he had intended to study the dark arts with a wizard named Zephyris , a giant and wizard half-breed who had become infamous for his skill in the field of necromancy and astral projection. Tom was already fairly proficient in the astral arts, but he had caught wind from an Albanian vampire that frequented Borgin and Burkes, regarding tales of Zephyris' ability to infuse his soul with dark magical energy which allowed him to not only take on a spectral form, but a form that resembled real physical matter. In essence, he could project his soul anywhere, at any time, and even take on a tangible form, all while his physical body still lay in its original location. It was a fascinating bit of magic, if it was, in fact, true, and Tom was determined to master it.