Notes: Hi everyone, thanks for your interest! I'll attempt not to make you wait this long for the next chapters of this storyline, but I've been very busy with life stuff this month, and next month isn't looking much better. Hopefully it won't be more than three weeks, though.

You may have noticed that I've slightly edited the spelling of a couple of names. I used an international name list for these names, but I'm told that it apparently has some minor errors or omissions.

Chapter Eighteen: Subversion, Part II: The Harrower

Shortly after Hermione returned to work, Tom's Floo alert flashed again. Igor Karkaroff, the Russian leader, had information.

Tom was relieved that Hermione was not there for Karkaroff's meeting. She distrusted the man based on a pattern of self-serving actions he would have taken in the alternate timeline. Tom could not help put point out to her how unfair it was to judge Karkaroff for the deeds of his alternate life while actually sharing a bed with Tom. She understood the logic of it; that much was obvious, but she still got a pinched look on her face whenever the goateed man appeared in the fireplace when she was present.

Tom wondered briefly why Karkaroff hadn't asked to speak to Lynch, the Head of Magical Resistance Liaison. Whatever he had to say must be very serious indeed if he felt that he needed to say it directly to the Minister, and in person.

"Karkaroff," Tom said smoothly when the wizard's face appeared in the flames. "I'm pleased to hear from you."

Karkaroff grimaced. "You will not be so pleased when you hear what I have to say. I want you to understand that I had to find a very secret location to tell you this." He gazed back at Tom, apparently wanting an acknowledgment of the effort.

Tom nodded, trying to hide his impatience. "Yes, I am sure it must be very difficult for you, especially with the wizard-on-wizard killings. Not a situation conducive to trust among your people," he could not resist saying. Before Karkaroff could respond to the subtle jibe, Tom continued. "It's hard, and we want to do anything we can to make your job easier."

This seemed to mollify Karkaroff. "It is indeed. I have had to be very careful of my own officers, too." He paused again, seemingly waiting.

"I understand that too, believe me," Tom replied. Karkaroff was trying to get something out of him, and Tom was starting to think it was real information he wanted rather than an expression of sympathy for Karkaroff's own troubles. Information about what, Tom could not guess, but he was not going to give this man anything. Even allies might seek to undermine a political leader.

"I am determined that they must be of good stock, you understand." Karkaroff almost spat the words, evidently displeased with Tom's circumspection.

"You mean—blood?" Yes, it was a good thing Hermione was not here to listen to this, Tom thought. She was concerned that there would be prejudice against wizards with non-magical families in Britain because of the security risk; if Karkaroff was implying what Tom thought he was, then that was already happening in Russia, where Secrecy might have been breached.

Well, it wasn't Britain's problem. Tom met Karkaroff's eyes with his own. "You must do what your situation requires, of course."

Karkaroff gazed out of the flames speculatively. "Minister Riddle, you are quite correct that there is a Soviet agent behind the killings of wizards by Muggles. I do not know what your other contacts in the Resistance governments have told you, but every resistance leader in the bloc knows this fact and even the identity of the agent."

What? Could that be true? Could the Krums and Koroleva have lied to him about what they knew, or was Karkaroff mistaken in his assumption? Tom tried to keep his face emotionless. He forced skepticism onto his features. "You know who it is? Then why don't you do something about it?"

Karkaroff backtracked. "I misspoke. The agent is known to the heads of the resistance movement, but to few others, and none actually know his real name. We know this person only as the 'Harrower.'"

Tom stared back at the Russian. "The 'Harrower,'" he repeated skeptically. "So you mean that you've deduced that there is a defector, and you've just given that name to the agent because of what he's done to your community? Or has the person actually called himself that?" He was rapidly becoming impatient with this. It seemed that Karkaroff was engaging in theatrics, trying to make his "information" seem more important than it actually was, and he actually had no idea who the agent really was.

Karkaroff seemed to realize Tom's disappointment and disdain. "Minister Riddle," he snapped, "the Harrower is the brother of a Mud—Muggle-born wizard who was envious of his brother's magical talent. He turned to the Soviet state to inform it of the existence of magic and lead a secret squad of Muggle KGB to hunt us down."

Oh, shit, Tom thought. He felt like a balloon that was deflating. He sat back in his chair and stared blankly at the green head in the fireplace. "You know this? Then how do you not know what his real name is?"

"His division is secret!" Karkaroff exclaimed. "He changed his identity! The name he was born with, this person does not exist in Muggle records now. We don't know where in the vast, filthy Muggle Kremlin he works—or where his base is in this city, for that matter."

Great, Tom thought. Just great. A secret Squib agent hidden behind a new identity in the secretive Soviet apparatus, using the Muggles' vast machine to kill off wizards. Even if the Western allies and Eastern rebels could put an end to that, Wizarding Secrecy had still definitely been breached, and if the information about who breached it got out, the international political consequences would be atrocious. Tom's own faction had built its power in part by enfranchising Squibs and giving the designation to people who had a magical child or sibling and therefore had some magical ancestry themselves. The hammer would fall hardest on the Nationalists as a result. It might even sweep the Isolationists to power. Bloody Caspar Crouch had almost made it….

Unless Karkaroff had something else to report, there was nothing more to be gained in this meeting, and Tom felt that he was dangerously close to losing his calm façade. That would be disastrous to do in front of a foreign dignitary. He turned his gaze back to the fireplace. "I see," he said tonelessly. "Thank you for telling me this. Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"No, that is all I have to report."

They closed the Floo connection, and Tom slumped in the Ministerial chair. His head was suddenly pounding with a tension headache. He remembered the bottle of firewhisky in his side cabinet. If ever there were a time for it, that time was now. Not even bothering to get up, he summoned it and magically poured himself a double shot.

Halfway through the drink, he remembered something else Karkaroff had told him: Every rebel leader supposedly knew about the "Harrower." If that was true, and Karkaroff wasn't just assuming it—or lying in order to undermine Tom's trust in other leaders—then it meant the Krums and Koroleva had outright lied to him.

Tom did not know what to do about it. He could confront them with Karkaroff's information, but if he insinuated that they had withheld it from him, that would only antagonize them, whether they had known or not. And if they had withheld it, they might still lie about having known about it when he did confront them. Whom would he believe then, Karkaroff or the others? Could they have had a valid reason to keep the information from him?

I suppose they have a right to keep their own national secrets, he mused, but if they don't trust their powerful allies with important information, they'll have a harder time solving the problem.

He suddenly thought about Grindelwald, the one top contact from whom he had not yet heard back. Grindelwald owed him big. He surely wouldn't deceive Tom about this—but Tom decided that he needed to tell Grindelwald the latest news from Karkaroff first, just to be sure. That way, when Grindelwald did get in touch with Tom, he would have to address Karkaroff's intelligence.

Tom took out a new piece of fireproof paper and began to compose a second letter to "Geryk Baginski," leader of the Polish Magical Opposition.

"What are you worried about, Dad?"

Tom looked up from the batch of paperwork that he was reading in the family room. It was not only about the Soviet crisis. On the domestic front, the Ministry was engaged in a fierce hunt for Fenrir Greyback. This was important to Hermione, who wanted the beast imprisoned before he could infect someone she had known who would be born in about a year. Tom wanted him gone too. Even with the Wolfsbane Law, there was still prejudice against werewolves, and Tom could not particularly fault the wizarding public for it. But no one—no one—would hurt the prospects of any more magical children in the wizarding world, not on his watch. He rather hoped that the officials who caught Greyback would be forced to kill rather than take the werewolf alive. At the moment, Magical Law Enforcement was leading that hunt, but Tom was very tempted to transfer the case to the Aurors, who now served in the Office of the Minister. Otherwise Caspar Crouch would try to take credit when the werewolf was found, and Tom had enough political problems without that.

The Daily Prophet still sniped at him, even though the Crouch shadow candidacy that had weakened his standing had ended several months ago. In a bit of obnoxious self-obsession, the opinion writers for the Prophet—or, rather, those who openly wrote opinion pieces, instead of pretending they reported facts—were even commenting now on the fact that the press was taking swipes at the Minister. "Press Has Finally Realized Minister Riddle Is Mortal!" crowed one editorial about the spate of media criticism. Tom had thrown that edition into the fire with a snarl of rage. It was as if the title had been calculated to set him off: the implication that these commentators were his equals, the fact that he was deathless, the awful reminder that Hermione, his Hermione, wasn't….

His thoughts returned to the present. He gazed up at Madeline, who was seated across the room at a table with Virgil, playing a game of Gobstones (and losing, it appeared).

"It's just work," Tom assured his children. "There's always something to be done."

"There's an Emergency," Madeline said solemnly. "We've heard about it."

Virgil looked up from his winning game and nodded, dark eyes wide with concern. "It's scary."

"It has to do with something that's happening in another country, not here. You're safe here," he said emphatically. "I had to say that in order to stop talking to the Muggle Minister about magical business. That's all it is."

They returned to their game, and Hermione, who was holding a sleeping baby Cynthia, raised an eyebrow silently at him. It didn't bother him. He hadn't actually lied to the children, but they did not need to know just how dangerous the Soviet bloc situation actually was for the magical community. They were too young to be trusted to keep their mouths shut, and after all, they were children. Why scare them? No one else but his security team knew about the situation, and he intended to keep it that way.

Later that night, in bed, he told Hermione about Karkaroff's report. When he got to the part about the other Resistance leaders supposedly knowing about the "Harrower" but not telling him, her eyes narrowed and a pinched look came over her face.

"I wouldn't believe him over the others," she said tautly.

"I don't. I'm gathering more information from Gellert first. But I don't disbelieve him yet."

"I wouldn't even be sure that this 'Harrower' really is a Squib. He might have made that up."

Tom gazed at her. "Hermione, I know we don't agree on this, but you're not being fair to him. There's no evidence he's lying about that."

"He's obviously prejudiced."

"Everyone is prejudiced about something. That doesn't mean he's lying."

"I do not trust Igor Karkaroff," she said stubbornly.

"I know you don't, but you shouldn't judge him based on that old timeline."

She scowled. "Very well, and there's nothing either of us can do about it—Russian wizards did pick him as their leader—but be careful with him. You have other people in the East that you can talk to. Don't just listen to him."

"I'm not. As I said, I'm going to see what Gellert has to say. And I'll always keep you informed of the latest updates."

The next day.

A repeat knock sounded on the door to Tom's private office, jolting him away from his current work.

"Director Lynch, Office of Magical Resistance Liaison," said the pleasant, soothing magical voice, announcing the visitor. Tom sighed, steeling himself for yet more questions or bad news, and admitted Lynch. He did not have to wait long.

A profoundly grim look filled the Irishman's face as he crossed the room. He reached Tom's desk and, without a word, put a scroll of paper before the Minister. Tom unrolled it. His eyes widened.

A black-and-white wizarding photograph filled most of the paper. It was grainy, but there was no mistaking what it depicted: a dead body, brutally tortured, with Cyrillic letters carved into the back.

"Who is this?" Tom asked.

"Karkaroff's number one deputy," Lynch said. He turned the paper over, revealing a brief message scrawled in broken English. "We don't know exactly who sent it, except that it probably was not Karkaroff. This isn't like his handwriting, and his command of English is better than this." Lynch flipped the scroll back over to the side with the unpleasant photograph.

"That's bizarre," Tom said. "I haven't heard from Karkaroff himself about this. Is there any indication that he was killed, or captured—or missing?"

"As best we can tell, he's missing. He hasn't responded to our messages to his personal Floo."

Tom groaned. "That's just perfect. Who heads the Russian Resistance now?"

"We don't know. The concern we have in the office is that they're scattered after this and it's everyone for themselves."

Tom pointed to the carvings on the dead man's back. "What does this say? Have your people translated it yet?"

Lynch grimaced. "It's a threat to several heads of government in the West. You, Dietzsch in West Germany, the Swedish Minister, and the Dutch Minister."

"A specific threat?"

"No, a general death threat."

Tom rubbed his temples. "I see." He thought quickly about the Ministers in question. "You know, Lynch, I'm pretty sure that Sjodin is a half-blood… isn't she?"

Lynch's grimace deepened. "Yes, Minister, you got there much quicker than my people did. All of the Ministers in that grim list are half-bloods."

Tom glowered at the scroll. "If that's significant—and it probably is—then it complicates things. Karkaroff told me in the last briefing I had from him that his officers were all 'of good stock.' My first guess about this would've been that someone in the Resistance who doesn't like that did this, and carved this message into this fellow because they assumed the West was backing Karkaroff's internal policies… but then why target the half-blood Ministers?"

Lynch considered. "If that's true, and that was what the killer was thinking, then maybe they thought that it was less defensible for half-bloods to back that kind of policy." He hesitated. "The thing is, Minister, this poor fellow was a half-blood himself. We looked into it."

Tom sighed. "Maybe the murderer didn't know that. I don't know." He gazed at Lynch. "Based on your office's investigation so far, is there any indication that this is something other than another internal fight? They've been killing each other throughout the bloc, assuming that someone or other was a traitor. Is there any reason to think this is something other than that?"

"Nothing so far, Minister. But again, we can't get in contact with the Russians yet. The only ones with Floo connections are Karkaroff and his top officers, because of the magical curtain, and so this came to us via owl."

"I see. In that case, keep me informed whenever you do find anything out."

"You cannot trust Igor Karkaroff," Hermione repeated that evening after the children were put to bed. "Everything about this smells wrong to me. It doesn't make sense. If Karkaroff has sparked a civil war in the Russian Resistance about blood purity, putting purebloods in higher ranks, then why would the half-bloods kill a half-blood officer?"

"They might if they saw him as a traitor to their 'kind' by accepting Karkaroff's promotion," Tom replied.

"That's irrational."

"Yes, but people are irrational."

"It still doesn't fit," she said. "A group of half-bloods in the Russian Resistance torture and kill a half-blood officer, leaving a message specifically against half-blood Western Ministers for Magic, fragmenting the Resistance, and sending its leadership into hiding? And whoever sent that photograph managed to find an owl to send a message to the West, but no one in the official leadership can tell us about an internal war? Karkaroff has Floo outlets in his own house!"

"I don't know if Karkaroff is even alive. If they had an internal revolt—and if you'll remember, Hermione, we were concerned that that might happen over the murders by Muggles—they might have killed him."

"Then why wouldn't they have boasted of that? If it's a successful coup, they would be trying to get us to recognize the new leader, not sending anonymous messages to threaten us. We have no say in how they operate. We would have to either acknowledge the coup and work with the new people, or cut them off, which would risk Secrecy. They have the upper hand; we have to maintain relations with them, and we couldn't reverse an internal coup. I don't think there's been one at all. I think Karkaroff is alive in his house. It fits with his behavior in the other timeline."

Tom heaved a huge sigh. "Hermione, do my actions 'fit with my behavior in the other timeline'?"

She stared back at him. "Not the worst things, by any means, but there are more similarities than you might think. You want power, immortality on earth, and wizarding supremacy. I think the fundamentals of a person stay the same unless they're changed very early in life."

He scowled briefly. "Fine—what do you think is going on, then? What's your theory?"

"I don't think you can rule out a false flag."

He rolled his eyes. "Hermione—"

"No, you listen to me, Tom Riddle!" she exclaimed. "Someone should be in a position to send an official update to us. If Karkaroff is still alive, he should be able to do so, even to send a 'distress call' from his home and tell us about a coup attempt. If he's been overthrown, the coup leaders should be sending us notifications of that fact. If fighting is ongoing and no one is in charge, then why would someone take the time to send that message to us, taking the trouble to find an owl, but no one could manage to tell us that there is a civil war going on? This does not work."

Tom rubbed his forehead. That made sense—altogether too much sense. "You may be right," he admitted.

She seemed vaguely satisfied by that admission.

"You know… you and I may need to investigate this personally," he added.

She frowned. "I really hope not."

Two days later.

When Geryk Baginski—née Gellert Grindelwald—sent a response letter to Tom's office Floo, he specifically recommended that Hermione hear what he had to say as well. The letter contained a rather ominous warning and an additional request:

.

What I have to say is best communicated in person, because I'm sure that you will have many questions, and it would be best if this meeting could take place at a completely private location, Grindelwald wrote. It is not that I question the security of your Ministerial office, but I have good reason to believe that there is a person who has the ear of both Igor Karkaroff and certain top officials in the Ministry.

.

Abraxas Malfoy, Tom thought instantly when he read that. This just got better and better. He thought it over, briefly considering his own house, before deciding against that. It was the private sanctum of his family, and he did not want to bring a foreign agent—even one on his side—into it on principle. He smirked as another place instantly occurred to him. It was appropriate. Hermione wouldn't like it, but it was absolutely secure. He knew that because he was the only person with the power to bring guests under the wards protecting it—or even to see it.

Later that afternoon, Grindelwald stepped through the Floo connection in Tom's office, as he and Hermione waited. Without a single word, they linked hands, Tom in the middle, and Disapparated to the outskirts of Little Hangleton.

A battered old door faced them, the skeleton of a long-dead snake dangling off a nail. Hermione grimaced in distaste, and even Grindelwald seemed taken aback. A smug smirk adorning his face, Tom opened the door and ushered them inside.

Although dust covered the furniture and floor, the roof was still secure. Powerful magic wards around the Gaunt house made everyone's hairs stand on end.

"What is this place?" Grindelwald burst out.

"The illustrious House of Gaunt. This is where my mother grew up."

Hermione was trying to avoid touching anything. This place was shadowy, utterly silent, and although Tom had made sure to ward it against ghosts, it seemed almost haunted with the ill will and misery of those who had lived here.

"I… see." Grindelwald had no response to that. "Was this… really the only option?"

Tom raised an eyebrow in challenge. "I don't bring international espionage business into my home." He smirked again. "There is a place that might be as secure as this, and definitely has more grandeur, but the problem is that it's in Hogwarts."

You are being extremely careless, Hermione thought, meeting his eyes with her own in the hope that he would read the thought. He did, and the smirk fled his face at once.

"I see," Grindelwald said again. "Well. This is secure—I can tell by the wards that you have—so I suppose I had best get to business." He gazed around. "Are those chairs—stable?"

Tom went over to the chairs in question, three chairs around a table. Marvolo, Merope, and Morfin, he thought as he magically swept them clean of dust. "They are sound, yes." He sat down in the most ornate chair—not that any of them were very elegant—which he assumed must have been used by Marvolo Gaunt.

Grindelwald examined the others, one with its back carved up with swearwords in Parseltongue and childish drawings of snakes. This chair seemed heavier and was definitely larger than the third, so he sat there, leaving Merope Gaunt's chair for Hermione. Wincing, she took her seat at the table.

Tom waved his wand, drawing out three rocks glasses and a bottle of Ogden's from his briefcase. "I can make this a little more hospitable," he drawled, pouring firewhisky into two of the glasses. He raised a brow questioningly at Hermione, who shook her head firmly in the negative. She was still nursing Cynthia. Tom instead filled her glass with water.

"Well," Grindelwald began, "where shall I begin? Perhaps I should let you ask questions first."

Tom took out the notes he had made for the meeting and examined them. "As you wish," he said briefly. "Let me see… ah, better ask about the most recent developments first. To your knowledge, is there a coup or civil war in St. Petersburg?"

Grindelwald shook his head. "Definitely not a coup. If by 'civil war' you mean open violent conflict, there is none of that either. Is that your people's analysis?"

Tom glanced briefly at Hermione, seeking nonverbal permission and quickly getting it. "It seems to be the analysis of most of them, but Hermione thinks it could be a false flag instead. The torture and murder of Karkaroff's late deputy," he clarified.

Grindelwald regarded Hermione with interest. "That's a clever thought," he said enigmatically.

"Karkaroff is alive, then?"

"Unless he died just this morning, then yes, he's alive." Grindelwald gazed between them. "This is why I wanted the meeting to be private. I don't know how much power that your Ministry's Floo regulation office has over communications within your own outlet—if someone could eavesdrop on conversations held through it, or plant magical recording devices in your office—but I didn't want to risk it. Karkaroff and his replacement lieutenant have connections with someone in your country with whom you've had dealings before, fairly recently in fact, and not of a positive sort."

"Abraxas Malfoy?"

Grindelwald nodded. "Malfoy has connections in the blood-purity movement throughout Europe."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Hermione said tautly. "Who is this new lieutenant of Karkaroff's, then?"

"A violent man named Antonin Dolohov," Grindelwald said, his lip curling.

Hermione's eyes popped, and blood drained from her face.

"This name means something to you," Grindelwald observed curiously.

She felt Tom's hand on her thigh under the table. She glanced quickly at him, finding some comfort in his encouraging look. "Yes," she answered Grindelwald. "As you know… I was a time-traveler."

"It's easy to forget, but yes, I remember when your husband told me about that."

"Well… Dolohov was a bad actor in the timeline that I left. Definitely a blood-purity supporter and a violent person."

Tom squeezed her thigh again.

"Interesting," Grindelwald remarked. "You know, Mrs. Riddle, you might consider making notes of differences and similarities that you discover throughout the course of your life. It would be a fascinating academic exercise… perhaps, though, it would be best to keep it private during your lifetime and let others examine it—after."

"Right," Tom said abruptly, ending that line of discussion at once. Hermione knew why; she recognized the faint choke in his words. "We have limited time here, and I do have another question first. This 'Harrower' that Karkaroff mentioned to me—this supposed Squib who has aligned with the Soviets, that all the other Resistance leaders know about, according to him. Is any of that true?"

Grindelwald cracked his knuckles. "There is a person who has encouraged the resistance movements to call him 'Harrower'… to cultivate fear, I suppose. There is no reason to think, as Karkaroff claims, that it's a Squib—"

"Why do you say that?" Tom interrupted.

"I will explain in a minute, but there is no reason to think it's a Squib, and it is absolutely false that every leader in the East knows about it. Some of us do and some don't. We are a not a monolith, Minister Riddle," he said wryly. "And especially since these killings started, we have not always shared information with each other. The Krums seem to have vanished off the map, and most of the Bulgarians with them." He paused. "And I do not know what Koroleva is up to."

"Do you not trust her?" Tom asked.

"I have no reason not to trust her," Grindelwald assured him at once, "but she is holding information, I think. I am not entirely sure that the problems in Ukraine are directly connected to the ones in Russia."

Hermione brought out notes of her own and looked over them. "By Muggle weapons, two mass murders in Russia, eight individual ones in Ukraine near Russia, and one apiece in Poland, Bulgaria, and Romania. These may be the work of this Harrower or his agents, I assume?"

Grindelwald nodded.

"By magic, three mass murders in Russia, one mass murder in Poland, one in Ukraine—which has apparently been solved—"

"The one in Poland has also been solved," Grindelwald put in. "It was a vigilante with mistaken information."

Hermione marked that on her list. "Assorted individual magical murders all over, most recently this late deputy, who was replaced with… Dolohov. Disappearances in Ukraine, most of which involve children." She glanced at Grindelwald. "You don't think those are related?"

"There have not been disappearances anywhere else, even Russia, which seems to be the first 'hot spot,' and Koroleva has indicated to me that she suspects a specific internal problem behind the disappearances. She won't tell me much, but I think that is because she is investigating the situation in her country." He gazed at the Riddles. "I have more to say about Antonin Dolohov."

"Then please do," Tom said.

"This is purely circumstantial, but… I would like to note that none of these killings began until he joined the Russian Resistance."

"Wait," Tom said. "He's that recently joined, and yet he's already become Karkaroff's deputy? After the bizarre murder of the previous deputy?" His tone was suspicious rather than questioning.

Grindelwald smiled grimly. "I think your wife"—he nodded at Hermione—"was more on track with her theory about that murder than any of your Ministry bureaucrats. But note my first point as well: The killings did not start until he joined the Russian Resistance and, through it, presumably learned who the wizards were."

Tom and Hermione stared back at him in disgust and disbelief. "You're implying… that Dolohov is the Harrower?" Tom asked. "And that he's fed false information to Karkaroff about a Squib?"

"I cannot vouch for Karkaroff. That may well be true. It may also be that Karkaroff will not see what he does not want to see."

"Is there a chance that Karkaroff could be complicit?"

"I do not know. He was in the Russian Resistance for a long time before the killings started."

"In the alternate timeline, he relied on others to do things that he didn't have the nerve to do," Hermione said tightly.

"Perhaps so, but that is the alternate timeline, as you say," Grindelwald pointed out. "I cannot speak for Karkaroff, but I do think Dolohov is a grave threat and may be behind everything in Russia—and possibly all the killings by Muggles everywhere, given the extent of the Muggle KGB. And there is another fact that I have not yet shared with you, or anyone else, because I wanted to examine it myself before I did." He smiled grimly. "Through my own research into genealogical records, I have discovered that the Russian wizards killed by Muggles are half-blood or Squib-born, while the ones killed by wizards are of all backgrounds—which would make sense if, as we all believe, people are lashing out at each other in distrust. The purebloods who have died were all killed by magic."

Tom and Hermione processed that. "So… the Harrower, who you think is Dolohov, has been directing the Soviet KGB to kill half-bloods and Squib-borns for the blood purity agenda." Tom's voice was edged with ice.

"That is what I fear. I think he must be telling them that the people are spies, or otherwise traitors to the Soviet cause, because I imagine the KGB would find people with our abilities too valuable to kill. Unless they viewed us as a threat," he added darkly.

Tom slammed his fist down on the Gaunts' battered table. "The despicable fucking blood-traitor!" he shouted.

"Tom," Hermione said quietly. "That expression—"

"If that's what's happening, what else can you call it?" he exclaimed. "What else can you call a wizard who hands over other wizards and witches—including children—to filthy Muggle death squads, risking the exposure of the entire wizarding world, simply because of their blood?"

For a brief moment, Hermione marveled at the fact that Tom Riddle was saying this.

Grindelwald spoke again. "That said, Minister, it is probably inadvisable for you to use that term in public, given your political position."

"I haven't even told the public the full truth of what's happening," Tom snapped. He stood up, shoved Marvolo Gaunt's chair under the table roughly, and stormed around in a small circle. "This is utterly despicable if that's what it is—and it does make sense of a lot. The big question is whether Igor Karkaroff knew about it. If he was part of it…." Tom's tone of voice turned very dark as he let the unfinished threat hang in the air. "And if he wasn't—if he's hiding in his house, refusing to answer my letters, because he's afraid of his own deputy, then he should be removed from his position."

"I agree," Grindelwald said.

"What about Ukraine?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the discussion about the mystery and the facts rather than allow Tom to hijack it for a rant. "You think that the Harrower may be behind the Muggle-on-wizard killings there."

"Yes, they were near the Russian border."

"Is there anything you do know about the disappearances there?"

"I really don't. My first guess would be that people are disappearing out of fear, but it may not be that. Koroleva is definitely holding something close to her chest, as you say."

"Do you know anything about the magical ancestry of the people who have disappeared?"

He shook his head. "I have only investigated the Russian victims."

"Then I'll look into it," she said suddenly. "It may be separate in that Dolohov is not directly involved in the disappearances, but they didn't start to happen until after the killings. Ultimately, it is the same problem." Her gaze hardened. "And if a wizard has decided to breach Wizarding Secrecy to hostile Muggles to advance his own loathsome agenda, it cannot stand."

"It won't," Tom said, menace in his words.