Invictus [Tom Riddle / Tomione]

Confessions of a Dark Lord

Hermione stared at the face of the now deceased Minister. Her corpse lay on the checkered marble floor in her expensive clothes, head turned to the side, an expression of raw fear etched into her inanimate features. Her skin was the grayed color of the sky above Azkaban prison, her lips pale and colorless. She was frozen in a position as though she'd been crawling, fingers curled like claws.

Hermione swallowed thickly. Riddle had done this. He'd admitted it to her, and she hadn't even objected. Seeing Tuft lying lifeless on the floor of her office made Hermione's stomach turn flips. It reminded her too well of the bodies that had lain on the floor of the Great Hall.

That, too, had been Riddle's doing.

Would death and destruction always follow in his wake?

Moreover, would Hermione be able to reconcile herself to that reality?

The magical forensics team was working tirelessly on the scene. Hermione was waved over by Cash Zabini.

Gaspard was interviewing Tuft's house elf, Tuppen.

"It happened right like I told ya, sir. An owl delivered a box... that box there." The elf gestured to the tin of fudge which still sat open and barely touched. There were two pieces missing.

Bones and Rabnott went to examine the tin.

One of the forensic nurses from St. Mungo's piped up. The aurors turned to look, seeing a set of glowing symbols floating above Tuft's body as the nurse waved her wand, performing the necessary spells for a magical autopsy.

"My assessment shows asphyxiation." She turned to the nurse beside her who held a quill and parchment. "Record visceral congestion via dilation of the venous blood vessels... blood stasis... tiny hemorrhages... cyanosis... and fluidity of the blood. Possible poisoning. I'll cast a diagnostic spell on the blood, then check it for traces of common poisons. Perhaps an allergic reaction. No signs of strangulation. No signs of struggle."

Gaspard gazed at her for a moment, then turned to the house elf. "Were there any other visitors?"

"No, sir. None."

Gaspard made his way over to the desk, where the tin of fudge sat. He lifted the note, read it's contents, cocked a brow, then sat it back down.

"Collect this for evidence, Zabini."

Gaspard strode over to the house elf and withdrew his wand. The elf involuntarily flinched when he saw Gaspard's cedar wand. The wizard gazed at the small elf for a moment, then laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He pressed his wand to the elf's temple, extracting a long, silvery ribbon: the memory. He deposited it into a vial and corked it.

"Thank you. That will be all." He watched as the elf pitter-pattered away on its bare feet.

Gaspard turned to Hermione. "I've got to have a chat with Minister Tuft's husband. I'm sending McLaggen to escort her son home from Hogwarts. You and Zabini head back and examine the evidence." He handed her the vial filled with the silvery substance. "We will need to track down the person who sent that card... but discreetly, perhaps."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she nodded, taking the vial carefully from his fingers.

"Come, Dumbledore," said Zabini. "The Ministry will be a mess when we get back. Law stipulates there must be an emergency election." He glanced back to Dufresne pointedly. "I imagine the wizengamot will set someone up as acting Minister until the election has been held."

Dufresne sighed, and slid his wand into his shoulder harness. "Wonder who it'll be," he muttered derisively, then promptly left the room.