Notes: Hey guys! So here we have a story that's been in the works for-well, I think I thought up the initial idea for it during the scene where Klaus (in Alaric's body) makes Katherine stand in front of the window without her necklace/bracelet/who knows what she was wearing, she has so many different sets of jewelry in this tv show... so, basically forever. There have been about five or six initial drafts of this before I felt satisfied enough (or just so damn frustrated enough) to finally pick and stick to this one.
Anyway, some notes about the actual story. This is a TVD/HP crossover that first begins in 1946 London a year after Tom Riddle graduated Hogwarts and while he was still working at 'Borgin & Burkes' and will center around Katherine and Tom mostly. However, there will also be very detailed and extensive roles played by both Klaus and Rebekah and some TVD and HP Original Characters to start, and after we set up the initial plot over the first three chapters or so, we'll get much more expansive with the characters, including more of the Original Family, both of the Salvatore brothers, Lexi, Anna & even more HP Original Characters as well as some canon HP characters that I feel the need to keep secret just for a little bit. ;)
Basically, what I need from you guys is just a solid 'yes' or 'no' on whether this is worth continuing. I have all the ideas plotted out and detailed in my head, but I don't know if they are only interesting in my head and if they're actually dreadfully terrible ideas in the actualization of them, so please let me know with your feedback. Your review can literally just be 'yes' or 'no' and even just that will help substantially for me to decide whether to continue this.
Oh, and last note: The Henry Burke described in the second half of this prologue is not the Henry that was trapped in the church ruins in 1864, he's someone else that functions as a TVD Original Character, and his relationship (as well as his brother's former relationship) with Kat will be described and revealed over time.
Prologue
October 4th, 1946
Knockturn Alley, London
Had Tom been a lesser man, he might've gaped at the severity of her piercing stare coupled with the dark power pulsating from her magical aura. As it was, his expression remained resolutely impassive as he took in every inch of her small frame, from the patronizing curve of her lip to the confident and self-assured posture she held herself with. Even under Tom's intense scrutiny, the young woman's mask of indifference did not falter. He had encountered all kinds of witches and wizards in his experience working in Knockturn Alley, but Tom was unnerved to admit he had not once come across a witch with an aura as powerful as hers. He noticed that she suspiciously did not carry a wand holster, and her ensemble did not allow for it to be tucked into the crevices of her cloak.
From this, he could discern only one possible conclusion: she was skilled in the art of wandless magic and fancied herself above such trivial mediocrity as carrying an actual wand. Tom had met other wizards that shared this arrogant viewpoint before, and although their skills were often more than adequate representations of their superiority, they easily fell prey to underestimating opponents—a fatal mistake against any skill level.
While he had been surveying his newest customer with a sharp, keen eye for detail, she took the time to tinker with a few of the display necklaces near the front of the store. He had been about to approach her when she spoke, her tone soft and melodious, her back still turned to him. "I'm told I should find a Mr. Harrison Burke here, is that correct?"
Tom approached her slowly, not missing a beat. "Mr. Burke manages this establishment, ma'am. He is, however, currently away on important business. Is there anything I can assist you with?"
She turned fully to face him now, her eyebrow raised in an inquisitive fashion. At her slight movement, two of her fingers swiftly brushed against his forearm, eliciting a sharp bolt of electricity down his forearm and an involuntary shudder in response. If he'd been at all unsure of something off about her aura before, there was no doubt left in his mind now. Aura detection was one of the rarest and most difficult forms of magic still in existence today, and few could fully master it in a lifetime. Tom had read several books on the subject, and had never once had a problem detecting the aura of a new acquaintance—until now.
Her harsh, cold laugh interrupted his train of thought and she spoke again, this time the soft tone replaced with a more brisk and forward inflection. "See, I'm quite unsure if you can be of any help to me. Harrison was always so damn secretive that I'm sure a simple stock boy wouldn't be any the wiser."
A simple stock boy? He bristled at the implication; did this woman have the slightest idea who she was talking to? He gripped his wand tighter, eager to curse that smug smirk right off her face. "Harrison?" He inquired, his tone calm and even, displaying none of the anger rushing through his veins. "Are you and Mr. Burke acquainted, ma'am?"
She did not answer immediately, choosing rather to inspect a dusty book off one of the less popular shelves. "You seem offended; I assure you that wasn't my intention. What's your name?"
He had thousands of things he'd like to tell this woman—none of them included the filthy surname of his deceased muggle father—but not one passed his lips. He was as diplomatic as he was cunning, and knew the fastest route to failure was to make enemies out of strangers. He gestured towards the dusty book her in hands—'Twelve Outlawed Dueling Techniques of the 17th Century', an old tome that had been sitting on the shelf for over a decade—"You have unique tastes; can I interest you in a deal for four and eleven sickles?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid not today, I haven't come here to browse insignificant old grimoires, that would be a waste of my time." She waved her hand dismissively, as though the insinuation that she'd be interested in books was an insult. "To be quite frank, I've never been a patient woman. This item that I require is of utmost importance to me, and inane questions pertaining to my relationship with your employer will only further my frustration. Now… let's cut right to it then. Do you know who I am?"
This woman was as fascinating as she was infuriating, and Tom couldn't dare kill her before he found out what she so desperately wanted. So, against his better judgment, he played along. "No, I do not."
"Very well then," she conceded, and he thought for a moment she might turn and walk away when she whispered very quietly, "Do you know what I am?"
He merely raised an eyebrow, not nearly as surprised by her admission as she was clearly hoping for. The facts were very clear—she hadn't done a very good job of concealing them, although he thought she may have wanted it that way—and it wasn't a hard conclusion to come to after that. She didn't carry a wand; she seemed to have a very intimate relationship with his elderly boss yet appeared no older than he; her accent was jumbled and difficult to pinpoint to a particular location, signaling that she'd traveled for more years than she could've been alive; her aura was different than anyone he'd ever come across, and she referred to the books as 'grimoires', a term for magical spell books long since outdated by hundreds of years.
Her tone was sarcastic and sharp, her dark eyes gleaming with mirth. "Now Tom, they told me you were intelligent—were they all simply mistaken?"
Tom had never actually encountered a vampire before, and he'd never been too keen to take an OWL for a class as trivial and impractical as Care of Magical Creatures, but he'd read extensively on every subject he could get his hands on, and he knew enough to detect that he may be at a severe disadvantage.
"How do you know who I am?"
"You see Mr. Riddle, I've been around a long time and I have a lot of connections. If I so desired, I could find out everything about you from your mother's maiden name to your alcoholic beverage of choice in less than twenty-four hours. So I strongly suggest you to work with me, because when I ask a question, I am quite often looking for an answer, not another set of irrelevant questions. So I will ask once and only once-"
The unmistakable chime of the overhead bell drew both of their attentions to the door. Every Friday since April of last year when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, the Ministry sent someone to do a routine check on all stores in Knockturn Alley still under suspicion. Most of the time they sent the same man—Hugh Crouch, a nervous, stubby little man with sweaty palms and a permanent scowl—but Tom did not recognize the man who entered, although his Official Ministry Badge made his business obvious.
"Mr. Riddle?" His voice was smooth and silky, his hair cropped short and a dusty sort of blonde. He was vastly different than anyone Tom had ever seen the Ministry send—usually the departments consisted of either scrawny little men scared of their own shadows or broad-shouldered monstrosity drones who couldn't even spell their own names. This man certainly fit into neither category. He exuded a sense of casual superiority that Tom had never seen before, and it provoked him to narrow his eyes in annoyance. This man clearly had an agenda, and it didn't seem like the Ministry had a damn thing to do with it.
The blonde wizard acknowledged the woman—the vampire, Tom reiterated to himself, the very damned heathen of hell causing him to doubt himself, Merlin believe it—very briefly with only a vague tilt of his head, not even bothering to fully face her. "May we have a moment, Ma'am? I apologize for interrupting your business—official Ministry affairs, I'm sure you understand…" He let the statement drift off into uncertainty, but it was in no way a question.
Tom didn't miss the way the vampire's shoulders straightened and ears perked as the man had entered the room, how her eyes held a quick but powerful flicker of alarm that dissipated as quickly as it had come. Dismissing the odd Ministry anomaly entirely now, the vampire flashed Tom a deceptively sweet smile, as charming and innocent as he'd ever seen. With a quick, languid turn of her shoulders she turned towards the exit, sweeping her cloak tighter around her waist as she went. "It was illuminating to do business with you, Tom; please, expect me back—you tend to a fine establishment, you should take pride. A pleasant evening to you," she nodded and left without another word.
He watched, eyes dark in irritation as the Ministry worker followed her every move towards the door with fascinated, hungry eyes. "What are you doing serving a woman like that in a place like this?" He motioned around the store with a distinct tsk of disapproval, but kept that infuriatingly charming smile perfectly in place. Without waiting for an answer, he produced a heavy briefcase and set it down gingerly on the display case counter, proffering a few meaningless official documents for Tom to sign as he sniffed the dusty air in revulsion. "This is no place for a woman of any caliber, let alone hers."
Tom handed the signed documents back to him in silence with a smug smile and a curious tilt of his head. "I hope you'll find my signature adequate for the passing of inspection. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
The man simply nodded, gave him a curiously unnerving smile and spoke, "Oh my boy, you have simply no idea what a treat you've given me." The beguiling man walked out and Tom stared back at him in confusion for a moment before he began his way back towards the storage room from whence he had come. Imbeciles, Tom thought scornfully, all of them. He took his quill off the back desk, dipped it in newly fresh ink and began to write a carefully worded letter to Mr. Burke.
"You honestly thought he was going to be compliant—simply going to hand it over, no fuss about it? Trust me Kat, I know him; Harry will have left the damned continent the moment he caught wind of you sniffing around."
"Thank you kindly for the helpful commentary, Henry dear, but I pay you to drive me, not to dispense frivolous advice," the woman responded with a monotone inflection that may very well have fooled anyone else. She was fidgeting with her cloak and fussing with her hair in a pocket mirror, her hands uncharacteristically shaky.
"You don't pay me a damned penny and we both know it," he drawled with a wry smile, "I do your insidious bidding simply from the goodwill of my charitable heart." She didn't bite one bit, didn't scoff or roll her eyes or even trade scathing witticisms as was customary for them, and he frowned at her behavior. "You're on edge, something happened in there that really threw you off. You can't be this shaken from Harry having left—really Kat, that was sort of obvious, he's always been dead scared of you, shaking in his goddamn boots whenever your name even left someone's lips…"
"It's not about Harry," Katherine snapped defensively, closing shut her pocket mirror and glaring at him. "Your brother's a fucking useless coward and a fool, I'm not worried about him or your fatheror the moonstone, I'll pry the thing out of the old bastard's cold, dead hands if it comes to it…"
"The kid then?" Henry asked rhetorically, genuine surprise alight on his features as he pondered it. "C'mon Kat, honestly—a kid?"
Katherine's words were so cold that Henry could practically feel the tangible chill run up his spine. "When you're playing a game this dangerous, it's practical suicide to underestimate anyone." A cruel and patronizing smile decorated her lips now as she remarked casually," Surely you of all people should understand that," and she crossed her legs at the thighs in the tight space of the backseat.
Henry pondered this pensively, completely ignoring her attempt to divert the conversation from her weaknesses to his own—he'd been her 'confidante' for a very long time, and he knew far better than to never to engage her like this, not when she was sparring with weapons like that. "Alright, humor me—we've spent over two decades tracking down this goddamn rock, we've finally traced it to my brother, we've finally got a chance to get it back—what could Tom Riddle the Stock Boy possibly have said to get your knickers all in a bunch?"
"He didn't say anything," Katherine responded, her voice sharp and cutting but the unsure undertone of her behavior doing nothing to mask her obvious fear. "But he sure said a damn thing or two to Klaus that had me more than a little worried."
"Rise and shine, sister dearest," Klaus cooed mockingly to a dead corpse as he pulled the dagger straight from its heart. He held in his hands a large stack of post letters tightly bound by tattered elastic and whispered threateningly, "It's time to tell big brother a few very important details you neglected to mention about your correspondence with a sacrificial lamb who's just far too good at hide and seek…"
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