Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Raids & Romance

Tom leaned back in his chair at the head of a long table on the top floor of the Leaky Cauldron. He lit a cigarette as he observed his knights.

He'd coined the term death eaters, but he decided the men before him weren't death eaters... yet. They still had years of training to go, and now, he had to transform their way of thinking as well. These men were far too attached to their pureblood ideologies. Tom had once thought to use that weakness to manipulate them into complete loyalty and devotion to his cause. However, Hermione had somewhat opened Tom's eyes. The truth was, purebloods were slowly dying out, according to Tom's research. In the coming years, the majority of the magical population would be half-blood at best. The social and political climate was swiftly changing. If Tom was to gain any kind of real power and sustain it, then he would need to find a way to pander to the purebloods and the progressives.

Tom had once thought absolute magical power and the invocation of fear was the answer, but Hermione had made him see that a much more delicate approach could be possible.

It was a tricky scenario, but Tom didn't see any options left to him.

Besides, his knights would have to accept Hermione as his wife one day, and that would be no easy feat. He would not allow disrespect to go unpunished, and Dolohov had been repeatedly trying his patience of late.

In a way, Hermione had completely derailed his carefully laid plans. He'd intended to travel for several years to search out forgotten and arcane forms of magic. Now he was tied to London indefinitely. He'd intended to create horcruxes from artifacts belonging to the founders of Hogwarts, but now he had other objects in mind. He'd even considered quitting his job at Borgin and Burkes. Lastly, he'd intended to one day unleash his basilisk upon the halls of Hogwarts again, but now the thought of harming muggleborns twisted his stomach into knots.

He inhaled deeply from his cigarette as he traced the rim of his coffee cup with his fingertips.

Plans change , he thought as he exhaled smoke.

As long as the result was the same, why did it matter how he got there? Tom was a gifted manipulator. A skilled orator. He could shift the strategy in order to get everything he wanted.

That was the plan anyway, at the end of the day...

For Tom to have everything he wanted.

He wanted power... and he wanted Hermione .

He cleared his throat, and the buzzing room fell silent.

"Nott, Avery," he began. "Are you both successfully brewing the potion?"

Acacius nodded. "We've got several cauldron's worth of Polyjuice in the making. It should be done by the time we act."

Tom nodded. "Do not fuck up the potion. We don't have room for mistakes." He eyed his followers. "This will send a message to the entire world that the statute of secrecy is weak and ineffective. Soon, all of London will be calling for its destruction... and when they do, we will be the answer to their pleas."

He turned his gaze upon Mulciber. "What news from the ministry?"

The dark haired Orin grumbled, "They're saying there will one day be a muggleborn Minister for Magic. There was a meeting of the Wizengamot and it was brought up as a topic of discussion."

"I walked out," said Abraxas smugly. "I've no idea why they are entertaining such a thing, but I will not stand idly by and allow it to happen. We should be acting against this nonsense."

Tom said nothing for a few moments. He took a drag from his cigarette, then he spoke. "Unfortunately, it may be unavoidable."

There were shouts of outrage around the table. Dolohov was quiet for once, as he sat in silent observance.