Chapter 1: The Dark Mark

When Tom returned to his flat above a second-hand bookshop on the border of Knockturn Alley, he was immediately accosted by a flurry of black feathers and giant wings. Apparently his black eagle owl, a thoughtful present of the Malfoy family, felt neglected in his absence. Amused Tom held out his arm and let the bird settle on his forearm, stroking his feathers and beak. If Tom was honest with himself he could appreciate the likeness between his owl and himself: both did not like to be ignored, tended to not get along with others and were vastly superior compared to others of their species. At Hogwarts his owl took to attacking other owls and even devoured a few smaller ones, not that the distraught owners could ever prove that their pets were exterminated by Tom's owl. Thus his black eagle owl was aptly named Hades, after the Greek god of the Underworld. Speaking of pets...

"Nagini...", Tom hissed.

"Yes master.", majestically Nagini slithered out of the bedroom, her six foot long body clad in green scales. "Was your hunt successful, master? Did you catch your prey?"

"Of course, my dear. It was rather disappointing in the end, too easy.", that it was but Tom had yet to meet an opponent who could seriously challenge him. While the Lestranges were competent wizards, they did not manage to get Tom to go all out, to get creative. Sometimes Tom wished there would be someone who would provide a real challenge. Who could match his intellect and magical prowess and would provide an exhilarating chase. Alas, the Lestranges appeared to be the crop of the crème as far as murdering lunatics went and Tom had to take refuge in the knowledge that his current occupation was only one step in a much bigger game, that would prove to be much more interesting and challenging. Yes, Tom had great plans and he would not be stopped.

"Take me with you next time.", the female snake demanded imperiously, " I will bite your prey and watch them withering on the floor in pain."

Tom chuckled. Nagini's bloodlust never ceased to entertain him. "Of course my dear. My enemies will cower in fear before you."

"As they should.", Nagini spoke and curled herself around in front of the fireplace.

Not that Tom had any plans to actually take Nagini with him. No one knew that he was a Parselmouth after all. Except Ginevra and a few of his more trusted Slytherin associates. It wasn't that Tom wanted to hide the fact that he could speak the ancient language of serpents, in reality he was quite proud about it because it only proved his link to Salazar Slytherin himself. However, Parseltongue was still regarded with weariness and a dash of fear by a majority of society and Parselmouths were automatically seen as evil and mentally unstable. In regards to his so-called family this assumptions were definitely true.

'Don't think about them. They are all dealt with. It is in the past.', Tom tried to calm himself but the thought of his uncle, this pitiful excuse of a wizard, dirty and cross-eyed, nothing more than an animal, still made his blood boil. The great legacy of Salazar Slytherin had become nothing more than a brutish inbreed. And if he were to think on his dirty muggle family... His fucking muggle father and his snobbish, entitled grand-parents. They had the gall to look down on him with their money and fancy estate. They left his mother to die in squalor and him in this shit-hole of an orphanage. But he had shown them, shown them what he was capable of, true power that they couldn't even comprehend with their tiny muggle minds...

'Calm yourself!', he ordered himself sternly, 'I had my revenge and now they are only memories of the past.'

In order to escape his inner turmoil Tom started to mechanically set up his cauldron and started the process of brewing. Chopping, grinding, stirring and measuring. Repeat. Chopping, grinding, stirring and measuring. Repeat. Tom's mind was singularly set upon his task, mentally analysing and categorizing the proprieties of the different components of the Draught of the Living Dead. Engrossed in his experimentations Tom failed to notice the flow of time. The sky turned from black to indigo, from indigo to rosé, from rosé to pastel blue. All around Tom's potions set-up papers lay scattered on the floor, full of notes in an elegant script, documenting all failed attempts of maximizing the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead. Finally, on the twenty-first try, Tom had the feeling that he was onto something. The surface of the potion shimmered in an opaque silver colour, slightly lighter than the usual colouring of the Draught of the Living Dead, and the normally underlying scent of lavender hung more noticeable around the room. Satisfied, Tom extinguished the flames under the cauldron.

'Well, according to my chemical equations this ought to work. Now on how to test it...' This part of Tom's project proved to be a bit difficult. Of course he could not drink his concoction himself in case he did make a mistake. And naturally he could not give the draught to any witch or wizard from the streets if he did not want to explain himself to the authorities. How any new potions were ever distributed to the wider public, Tom did not know. If he didn't care so much about his impeccable reputation he would simply snatch some muggles from the streets, test the potion and give the muggles a nice, warm Obliviate. Unfortunately this was also heavily frowned upon, if not considered outright illegal. Really, there were billions and billions of muggles, what were they good for, if they couldn't even be used to further wizarding society?

Sighing and shaking his head in consternation, Tom bottled up his improved version of the Draught of the Living Dead, vanishing the remains and cleaning out the cauldron with a flick of his wand. The numerous parchments full of notes, detailing the process of creating the concoction were ordered and tidily stacked. This not being the first instance in which Tom proved his brilliance in potion making, as in everything else really, he knew how to publish his discovery. Two words: Severus Snape. Severus Snape was the Head of the Potions section in the Department of Mysteries, youngest Potions Master in Britain for a century, Draco's godfather and all around misanthrope. Tom met Severus Snape in his fifth year during one of Professor Slughorn's infernal soirées. His Head of House had been Snape's teacher and had been trying to get the man to one of his parties since Tom started school. In an impressive show of tenacity Snape managed to dodge and deflect all of Slughorn's attempts. However, one could not escape Slughorn's collecting habits forever. Thus Snape found himself back at his Alma Mater during Slughorn's Christmas party in Tom's fifth year, clad in exclusively black robes and looking for all the world like he would rather bathe in Bubotuber Puss than interact with any of the guests. Tom and Snape got along like a house on fire. After subtly insulting each other, seizing each other up, measuring their opponent's intelligence, wit and usefulness in a verbal sparring match. Like the true Slytherins they were. When their mutual dislike of everyone and everything was established they talked about theoretical aspects of potion making and how the other attendees of this party had the misconception that they were actually intelligent and important individuals. All in all, Tom was relieved to know that people like Snape existed, disproving his long held believe that a modicum of intelligence was impossible to find in people these days. Their mutual tolerance of the others company did not went unnoticed. This became clear when Ginevra decided to interrupt their conversation by whistling a wedding march. She was rewarded for her efforts by two glares that would even turn basilisks to stone but went completely over her head. In all honesty Tom would have liked to stay some more and continue this stimulating conversation but since Ginevra had decided that they were friends and consequently had to do things that friends did -what these things would be Tom did not know, since the concept of friendship was still not entirely clear to him and he had to solely rely on Ginevra's word when it came to friendly human interaction, and didn't this open doors for her to completely trick him into things he would rather not partake in, all under the guise of this friendship business?- like helping the other out of uncomfortable situations. So Tom had to cut his interaction with the first interesting human being since forever short and serve his friend in his white knight capacity. Like Lancelot he rescued Lady Guinevere from mortal danger or more accurately from gossip and a reputation as a trollop, since the boy she brought with her -this average in every aspect Corner from Ravenclaw, really?- suffered under the misapprehension that she was more breakable than a Bowtruckle and thus should not converse with the attending vampire because it was dangerous, or with the Captain of the Holyhead Harpies since Quidditch was really unladylike, or... well the point had been made and the poor sod was one comment away from being on the business end of Ginevra's wand. Which tended to hurt, one only had to had ask Draco who spent the night in the Hospital Wing, courtesy of Ginevra's Bat-Boogey-Hex. Ironically the act of hexing Draco into next week for calling Granger a mudblood had resulted in her invitation for the night because Slughorn was more impressed with Ginevra's abilities than concerned for Draco's health. All evidence withstanding, her date for the evening did not get the memo that he attended with Ginevra Weasley and not some protagonist of an 18th century romance novel. Thus, Tom escorted her back to Gryffindor tower before she could put another victim into the Hospital Wing in the span of 24 hours. In the end Tom got an intellectually challenging correspondent, who additionally also worked at the Ministry, out of the evening and Ginevra all the teenage angst that comes with first relationships. While Tom exchanged letters with Snape from then on, Ginevra and Corner exchanged saliva and insults in equal measure. It was highly entertaining to watch this slap-slap-kiss dynamic where the little cretin didn't even realize that he was completely inferior to Ginevra in every way. That didn't stop Tom, however, from engineering a little accident when the miscreant overstepped the line and tried to humiliate Ginevra by licking Cho Chang's tonsils in the Great Hall. It was what any friend would do, Tom was a fast learner after all. For his efforts he got a grumbling from Ginevra about how she could have taken care of that herself, a high-five from the Weasley twins and an admonishment from Dumbledore complete with reproachful looks and grandfatherly disappointment -"And really Tom, Mr. Corner could have been seriously injured... that was very immature and irresponsible...of course I have to deduct points and give you detention...I am not so sure anymore if you really deserve the privileges that come with being prefect...since this is the first time you committed such a breach of rules we won't talk about expulsion..."- that naturally encouraged him to re-think his actions and do a bit of soul searching and prompted him to become a better person and eat less red meat and drink less coffee...not. While Dumbledore treated him like he had murdered little girls in remote bathrooms -and, funnily enough, he could if fancy struck him since he found Salazar's nifty little chamber, complete with a personalized killer snake- the rest of the school did not judge his actions with the same severity as Dumbledore did but rather thought Corner got what he deserved.

Tom's reminiscence of days past was interrupted by an embarrassing sound produced by his stomach, reminding him of an enraged Hungarian Horntail. With mild surprise he registered the feeling of hunger. It wasn't uncommon for him to forget everything around him when focused on a task and apparently he had done it again. A quick Tempus told him that he did not only run without food and sleep for over 24 hours but that he was also late for his meeting with Ginevra. As if on cue a knock on his door caught his attention. Speaking of the metaphorical red-haired devil...

"You look like you haven't slept and properly not eaten either. I sincerely hope that you were at least successful in whatever you have done otherwise you'll be moody for the rest of the evening.", were the words with which she greeted him at the door.

"No, I haven't and yes, I was."

"Great. Take a shower then and we'll get going."

"Yes, mother.", he answered with a wry smile, while starting to unbutton his shirt.

"Don't get cheeky with me sonny.", she winked and caught his shirt.

Hogwarts, September 20th, 1992

Ginny was standing in the Hogwarts library between the rows with books on Goblin Wars and breeding flobberworms, her gaze drifting to a table hidden in a corner, where a dark haired boy in Slytherin robes was engrossed in a tome the size of a baby Hippogriff. Her first weeks at Hogwarts had drifted by and the ancient castle was all it was promised to be by her older brothers and more. The ghosts, the talking and moving paintings, the hidden corridors and vast and beautiful grounds had enchanted her thoroughly. Like every member of her family before her, she had been sorted into Gryffindor and the common room had quickly become her home away from the Burrow. Classes were captivating and she was happy to be able to say that she already made her first friends, most noteworthy Colin Creevey, a fellow Gryffindor who was a passionate photographer, reminding her of her father and his obsession with muggle technology, and Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw, who was regarded as a head case by many but Ginny found her eccentricity charming and entertaining. Despite her first successful steps into independence she wasn't able to forget her conversation with Tom Riddle on the Hogwarts Express. First she thought he was like every other Slytherin git: rich, spoiled, pampered and a Dark Wizard in the making. But his thoughtful and passionate defence about Slytherin House and dark magic had her thinking. Riling up Ron in the process was just a bonus. She had admitted to herself that she only ever considered the matter from one point of view and was woefully ignorant and biased because of her family background and her brother's experiences at school. While she wasn't an avid reader like Ron's friend Hermione she liked to think that she was adequately equipped to navigate her way through the library in order to enhance her knowledge on the topic and could consequently form a more informed opinion. So she read books about magical theory, traditions and history, coming to the conclusion that there were a great many spells, potions and rituals that were simply vile and disgusting but that Riddle was right and the Dark Arts were more than public opinion made them out to be. And she was intrigued. If her mother would know her thoughts, her butt would never be the same and she would be grounded for life, still her natural curiosity drove her on to learn more. So she was standing in the library watching Riddle -which admittedly was a bit creepy- and internally debated on how to approach him. She wasn't exactly shy but since coming to Hogwarts she heard so much about him, aside from Ron's whining about how he was a git, that she felt a tiny bit intimidated. Charming orphan. Genius. Friendly and well liked by everyone. Girls getting all giggly and blushing around him. Magical whiz and so on and so forth. Conversation was easier when she still thought him to be just another Slytherin.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare or will you take a seat?"

'Looks like I won't have to come up with a way on how to approach him after all. He just thinks I'm a creepy stalker now.'

"Sure...um...hi.", as soon as the words left her mouth Ginny hoped the ground would open and swallow her whole. Judging by his raised eyebrow -were raised eyebrows a Slytherin thing? Because she could swear that every single one of them had the condescending raising of one brow down to a minor art form.- Riddle wasn't particularly impressed with her eloquence either. Well in for a knut, in for a sickle.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you but I gave what you said on the Hogwarts Express some thought and realised that there is definitely more to what you said but I still have some questions for clarification and...you probably don't even remember me...we met on the train I am..."

"Ginevra Weasley. I remember."

Dear Merlin, if she was waiting for the most embarrassing moment of her life she needn't wait any longer because here it was.

"I hope your first weeks of school have been pleasant for you and my felicitations on being sorted into Gryffindor. How may I be of help to you?"

'Wait...what?', his disarming politeness caught her off guard. 'Why is he acting like he competes with Gilderoy Lockhart for Witch Weekly's most charming bachelor award?'

Riddles lips curled into a smirk as if he could read her thoughts and with feigned innocence he asked: "Is something the matter? You seem awfully quiet all of a sudden."

Ginny scoffed. 'What a bastard.', she thought with more fondness than malice and decided to get her act together. "Please let me start again: Hi, I am Ginny Weasley we met on the Hogwarts Express. I hope the start of term had been agreeable with you. Sorry to interrupt but regarding our conversation on the train I would like to ask you some questions."

His smirk seemed to soften into a real smile. "Ask away then."

From this day on one could find Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle at least once a week in the library together, doing homework, discussing books they read and sometimes just talking about nonsensical things like how people who ate ear wax flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans even knew how ear wax tasted.

Of course Ron threw a fit on how his little sister could hang out with a Slytherin git. Ironically, Draco Malfoy threw the same fit with Tom about how he could debase himself and be seen in the company of a Weasley. Colin was awed that Ginny had struck some kind of friendship with the resident genius and had to be gently persuaded that Tom really didn't want to have photos of himself that he could sign and hand out to the public. Luna just cryptically commented on how Ginny would be good for the older boy because his head housed the biggest Wrackspurt infestation the Ravenclaw had ever seen.

Through all of this Riddle became Tom but Ginny remained Ginevra. When asked why he insisted on calling her Ginevra, he simply said: "It suits you better."

The Leaky Cauldron was packed with people. In one corner booth, Tom had just finished his explanation about what exactly he had been doing all day. While Ginny was impressed with his ingenuity she still didn't consider potions a reviling hobby. In front of them lay their empty dinner plates and full bottles of butterbeer. The flickering light of the floating candles threw shadows over Tom's face and she was once again struck with how handsome her friend was, -not that she hadn't realised this before but then it was more like admiring a painting or sculpture. She was impressed and could say that he was aesthetically pleasing but recently there was more when she looked too long and closely at her friend. His face did funny things to her heart rate and breathing.- high cheekbones, strong jaw, straight patrician nose and dark blue eyes.

"Admiring me Ginevra?", his playful question popped her little mental bubble. She could practically feel her blush crawl over her face -damn her light complexion and since when did she blush this much?- and scrambled to find a witty comeback.

"Even if I was the effect is ruined because I know who you are."

An amused chuckle rumbled out of Tom's chest. "And who am I?"

She smirked. "An ass of course."

"Yes,", he agreed solemnly, "but I am your ass."

Damn, were they flirting? Ginny was pretty sure that counted as flirting. And now they had a moment, one of those her mother gushed about when reading trashy paperback romance novels. However, as cliché as it may be she couldn't tear her eyes away from his and he didn't appear to be particularly inclined to look away either. Before her brain said goodbye and went on an extended holiday and she did something stupid like reaching across the table and curl her fingers into his infuriatingly perfect hair and...they were awoken from their trance via pink haired metamorphmagus crashing into the table.

Ginny's first instinct was to joke about Tonks' clumsiness and shuffle the moment into the back of her mind so that she did not have to think about the possible meanings of suddenly even having moments with her best friend but any comment she could make died in her throat when she took in Tonks' face. A serious look graced the metamorphmagus' features, hair dishevelled and breath slightly accelerated.

"Tom, Ginny, we need you at the Ministry immediately. The Lestranges broke out of the holding cells."

The Auror Department was in chaos when the three arrived at the Ministry. People were shouting and running around, paper plane memos flying so fast that it was miraculous that nobody had lost an eye yet. Moody and the rest of the team were already waiting down at the now empty holding cells.

"Alright,", Moody growled, "this is what we know so far: the Lestranges were in three different cells and none of the guards noticed any suspicious behaviour. At four o'clock the guard shift changed and they went up into the department to fill the new shift in. When the new shift arrived the cells were empty and this...", he made a sweeping gesture with his gnarled hands, "was on the walls of their cells."

A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth was crudely drawn in sickly green paint onto each wall of the three cells. Beneath the words 'United under the Dark Mark' were written in the same shade of green.

"How long were the Lestranges unsupervised?", Tom inquired.

"Ten minutes maximum.", Moody answered.

"What about their wands?"

"Missing from the evidence room.", Moody bit out, as if the mere admission physically pained him.

Tom sighed. "Unfortunately, the facts lead to only one plausible conclusion: they had help from within the Ministry."

Ronald made a noise as if he wanted to protest but Tonks held up her hand and asked quietly: "How do you come to this conclusion?"

"First of all: the time frame. They had ten minutes to open the cells, paint their message and get up into the department without being seen. Since the wands are missing one had to assume that they then went and broke into the evidence room, without wands because theirs were still within, got their wands and left the Ministry. Again without being seen and when the guards had already raised the alarm. Highly improbable. Secondly: how did they leave the building? They couldn't use a portkey or have apparated because of the Ministry wards. This leaves the floo network or the manual entrances. Keeping probability in mind, a manual entrance seems more likely since the floo network is blocked immediately when the alarm is raised. Meaning they walked once across the whole building and out and no one noticed, ergo: they had help."

The distaste that the thought of any of their colleagues helping the Lestranges escape evoked was palpable. Tom wondered why, because in his opinion people throughout history have proven again and again that treachery was a defining trait of humanity.

"So,", Potter began, "you think that someone broke into the evidence room, stole the wands, waited until the guards changed shifts, went down and freed the Lestranges, left the message and somehow made off with them unnoticed?"

Tom inclined his head in agreement. "I would guess Polyjuice Potion or an Invisibility Cloak was involved to escape unseen."

"Well, that sucks.", was Draco's helpful contribution.

The following hours went by in a flurry of activity. Aurors were distributed to guard Lestrange Manor and any other property belonging to them, in case the fugitives would show themselves. The Goblins of Gringotts were informed that anyone who wanted to access the family's vaults had to be reported to the Aurors immediately. Reviewing the activity of the floo network only lent credence to Tom's theory that they most likely escaped via manual entrance. The Aurors on guard duty were questioned but seemed genuinely innocent of any crime or even breach of security protocol and thus were of the hook with a few heartfelt words of "Constant vigilance!" from Moody. The breaking of the wards around the cells and evidence room was done very efficiently, cementing the suspicion that the culprit had experience with standard Ministry wards.

In the early hours of the morning the SHD had exhausted every available avenue of tracking the Lestranges down quickly and they all appeared to begrudgingly resign themselves to the fact that they had to wait until the Lestranges were spotted again before they could make a move.

"Dammit!", Potter exclaimed and pounded his fist hard onto his desk.

"Mad-Eye you are very quiet.", Tonks observed. "What's on your mind?"

The old Auror grunted non-committally and let his eye spin wildly in his socket. "Are you aware what this means, Nymphadora?"

Reflecting the seriousness of the situation, the metamorphmagus refrained from protesting the use of her given name and simply answered: "Of course, I mean they are very dangerous and highly unstable but we can catch them again..."

"No,", Tom interrupted, "the problem is much more severe than three escaped murderers."

Moody simply nodded and Ginevra softly inquired: "How so?"

Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose, -he was without sleep for more than 48 hours now and it started to catch up with him.- crossed his long legs and started to explain: "They had help from within the Ministry, they left a message and a sign, a symbol if you will. This means they have a message they want to broadcast and their crimes prior to their detainment are a clue as to what this message might be. They attacked, tortured and killed muggle-borns, meaning they take blood supremacy to the extreme. Blood supremacy, anti-muggle sentiment, this is their message. And it has become political: a symbol, inside men in the Ministry. Most likely they are part of an extremist political movement that we haven't heard about before and apart from the Lestranges and the unknown inside man we have no idea as to their identities, the size of their group, their plans, financial backing etcetera."

"Exactly,", Moody growled, "I know you call me paranoid but this could get very ugly, very quickly. There hasn't been a militant blood supremacy movement in all of Europe since Grindelwald and he was defeated before I was born. People who share this ideology might be very receptive to such propaganda."

"But surely not many would be ready to kill for this or even break the law in a smaller capacity!", Draco exclaimed, "I know my family and many of our acquaintances are more...conservative when it comes to questions of blood purity but none of them would be willing to settle this question outside of the Wizengamot."

"Let's hope so otherwise we'll have a civil war on our hands.", was Moody's depressing reply.

Suddenly the door to their office was thrown open and a young Auror sprinted inside, panting and wheezing: "This symbol, the Dark Mark, it was spotted. Somebody cast it in the sky, it can be seen for miles!"

"Where?", Moody barked.

"Wiltshire. Above the Malfoy's home."

All colour left Draco's already pale face.

Thank you for taking your time to read this. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last and contains much background information but I promise the plot really gets going from here on out. Reviews would make me very happy and help me to improve my writing *shameless hint*.

Chapter 2: Mystery at Malfoy Manor, will be up on Sunday January, 29.