Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the world.
Chapter 4 - Hogwarts Great Hall - October 5th, 1943
Tom made his way to the great hall for breakfast, pondering the news Rosier had brought him the night before.
He'd heard back from a cousin who did some investigating in the education department of the French ministry. Miss. Granger-Riddle wasn't even from France itself but from an overseas region of France; specifically, Martinique, an island in the Caribbean. Tom felt more secure in the idea that she was of no relation to him after all and felt that he could now put that solved puzzle behind him.
After all, it was plausible to have a distant cousin from France, considering there wasn't much distance between here and there...but not even in Europe?
It could only be pure coincidence.
He took a seat and began preparing his tea, looking up at the screech of owls to find the mail had arrived. He placed a knut in the pouch of a Daily Prophet owl's leg and grabbed a copy from one of its talons.
There wasn't much on the Grindelwald war front, but there was a bit of coverage of an uprising in Naples against occupying German forces. Also featured was the arrival of Allied Forces in the section covering the muggle war, almost towards the end of the paper in the smallest square.
Tom nearly rolled his eyes. Of course, they would put it where hardly anyone could see it.
He knew the destruction muggles could cause; they were dangerous and primitive, and he knew it to be foolish to underestimate them. Actions like these were the reason most magic folks didn't know any better.
He knew very well that if the wrong muggles found out about the magical world, there was only so much that magic could do to protect them. He didn't want to think of how a ward would hold against a blitz. Grindelwald was doing magic folk a disservice by trying to blow up the Statute of Secrecy.
Tom may agree with the rest of his beliefs, but not that. He believed the magical world should be closed off entirely from the muggles and that muggleborns were the biggest danger to their collective safety.
Tom sipped his tea and ate some toast, not feeling particularly hungry as the last of the mail birds soared in, until—surprisingly—a letter was dropped by his plate.
He froze.
The only time he expected mail was when he wrote articles for academic publications for pocket money; now, however, was not one of those times.
He placed his tea down and turned the envelope in his hands. It was addressed to him alright, he turned the thick card stock envelope in his hands to find a return address only to find nothing but a red wax seal with a scripted 'R'. He waved his wand over it, checking for jinxes or curses but there was nothing untoward about it, he shrugged and tucked it away in his bag to read later.
"Mail?" asked Thoros, who had witnessed the whole ordeal. Tom simply nodded and hummed noncommittally before returning to his tea, mind curious about the letter he had received.
He glanced up to catch sight of Granger-Riddle, which had become a bit of a habit in the last month. He grimaced upon seeing her look at Weasley like he'd hung the stars in the sky. What she possibly saw in him, he would never understand. Even by Wizarding standards and despite the few decent ones, the Weasleys were no better than pureblood farmers.
Tom finished his tea, made to grab his bag and began heading towards his first class, History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs.
While walking, he saw in his periphery that Abraxas and Evan had fallen into step with him, and seconds later four more of his knights joined them. To his right were Graham Montague and Terence Higgs, while to his left, were Marcus Flint and Orion Black. Although Montague and Higgs were from neutral families, they still supported his ideas and plans; their purpose was to amass support from the Neutral party of the Wizengamot. Flint was muscle and certainly not the brightest but his family was firmly Traditional, so he was a valuable asset all the same.
Black was an invaluable ally. He was the son of the non-disowned Black heir, Regulus Arcturus Black and nephew to the former now-disowned heir, Sirius Black III. In other words, the only Black in history to ever be sorted into Gryffindor.
It was Orion who had advised heavily against the release of the basilisk to cleanse the school in their fifth year, the only one of his knights that had seen the idea for the bad one it was and had informed him so accordingly. He'd explained that as the only direct descendant of Slytherin in the isles, the lordship was his to be claimed when he came of age. To release the basilisk now would incur negative press upon the name and would have given him away immediately had he tried to claim it at a later date.
It became apparent through Orion's tutelage that, as Lord Slytherin, his plans for the wizarding world would be far easier to implement, regardless of whether Grindelwald won his war or not.
As they approached and entered the History of Magic classroom, Abraxas leaned in.
"So, no relation then...?" he prodded hesitantly and Tom gave a curt nod.
"She's from the Caribbean so I highly doubt it," he replied, raising an eyebrow at Abraxas.
"Why do you ask?"
A smug smile is all the answer he got before he glared, Abraxas sighed dramatically.
"Slytherins are planning a little something for our new resident muggleborns...to welcome them. Wanted to see if there were any restrictions," he answered glibly under his breath as Tom rolled his eyes.
"Don't tell me anything else, as Head Boy I need plausible deniability; and remember, anybody gets caught...they're on their own," he instructed, Abraxas nodded and gave a mock salute before turning to find his seat.
Did he care if she was targeted? No, of course not.
'Whatever. If she gets caught up in it, she seems clever enough to get herself out,' he mused, uncaring, balancing his quill between his fingers.
He had only met up with Granger-Riddle for their joint potions assignment once a week; he was almost positive she was otherwise trying to avoid him.
She did impress him, surprisingly. By the second time they met, she'd already had a list of ingredients for the cure and had already procured half of them, as well as a few for the poison itself and had outlined her processes, giving him a copy to add his own.
The mudblood was efficient, he'd give her that.
'Then again, anyone can be a good student but not many can be a good mage,' he thought, snidely.
He could be wrong, of course. Tom didn't share any practical classes with her, so he had no idea of her actual skill level.
'She comes entirely from muggles, so probably weak.'
Turning his attention back to Professor Binns, he forcefully changed his train of thought to pay attention in class.
The rest of the day was uneventful until he was finally alone on his bed later that night after patrols. He pulled out the letter that had been taunting him all day, popped the wax seal and began to read:
Dear Tom Riddle Jr.
This letter may come as a surprise to you, or it may not. Allow me to explain. My name is Helen Sophia Granger-Riddle. You may recognize my surname, as I am your classmate, Hermione Granger-Riddle's mother.
In this letter, however, I write to you as your cousin...or more specifically your second cousin once removed. As I am sure you've deduced, Hermione has told me about you, although I suggested that she try not to engage you until I could find out more. The truth of the matter is that I am appalled that you have not formally been brought into the family.
You are, of course, under no obligation to even respond to this letter, however, before you make that decision, I would like for you to consider a proposition of mine.
You are a part of the Riddle family despite your father and grandparents' atrocious behaviour, and I would see you instated where you belong.
Yours Sincerely,
Helen S. Granger-Riddle
Riddle Manor
Little Hangleton Malton, UK
Tom re-read the letter twice more to make sure he was not hallucinating before refolding it and returning it to its envelope.
Strangely, the first emotion he felt was not fury at the absolute audacity of the woman, to write to him seventeen years later was preposterous. Rather, he felt a bit hollow.
There wasn't the longing that he would have once felt as a child, wishing to be adopted, there was just...nothing. He did not feel sadness, anger, joy, or even confusion. It was all very straightforward, there had been no double meanings or any duplicity that he could tell.
'This will take some time to consider,' he mused, thinking of the pros and cons of accepting such a proposal, suspicious of her plans.
What did she gain from any of this?
From bringing him into the family?
Did she suspect him of being behind the murders of his father and grandparents?
What did she know?
'And Miss Granger—no, Hermione,' he paused his thoughts to mouth her name, liking the feel of it on his tongue.
'What is her role in all of this?' he wondered.
Ultimately, he decided the only way he was going to get any more answers was by getting them from the girl. Once he knew more, he would decide if responding was a venture worth his time.
A/N: If anyone was wondering why I made the Gaunt ring the first Horcrux, here ya go.