"Arrest them all, you say? And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do with them once I've rounded them up?" Theo simpered, his obsequiousness a thin veil over his true intention: to gauge Tom's desires.
"Contact the Indian Ministry of Magic," Tom commanded, "and have them confined in their prison."
Theo blinked, surprised by the simplicity of the request.
"Should I find them absent from those cells upon my next inspection," Tom continued, his tone glacial, "I shall ensure you experience the exquisite sensation of a Dementor's Kiss, firsthand."
Without awaiting Theo's reply, Tom turned and swept away, Nagini gliding silently in his wake.
Theo considered this for a long moment, a curious expression twisting his features. He summoned his secretary and instructed him to arrest everyone – not only those named by Tom but also a few "additions" of his own.
"Minister," the secretary ventured nervously, "what if their families... object?"
"What can I do?" Theo shrugged, a picture of feigned helplessness. "It wasn't my idea. Let them take their grievances to the Dark Lord!"
Hearing this, the secretary finally grasped the Minister's game.
Theo merely smiled, a glint of dark amusement in his eyes.
"You're such a devil, Minister," the secretary chuckled.
"Hardly as devilish as you," Theo retorted, as they exited the office and were confronted with a bizarre tableau: a throng of people, alongside several spirit cats, lay rigidly upon the ground. Only Theo and his secretary still possessed the power of movement.
(Not dead, only Petrified)
...
Before the imposing gates of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, a resounding "boom" shattered the afternoon calm as Tom and his companions Apparated into existence.
"Tom," Dumbledore inquired, his voice edged with incredulity. "Are you certain this is the child's home?" He cast a doubtful look at the towering edifice before them, suspecting Tom was indulging in some elaborate jest.
Tom offered no explanation. He cared little for Gabrielle's precise domicile, knowing only that her sister attended the school.
Their arrival, far from discreet, was swiftly noted.
"Albus, how delightful! What brings you to our humble institution?" boomed a voice.
A woman of Hagrid-like proportions strode towards them, a girl in a blue dress in tow.
"Ah, Madame Maxime," Dumbledore greeted smoothly, kissing the back of her hand with practiced gallantry. "I was escorting a student on a quest to locate Nicolas Flamel, but chanced upon this little one along the way..." He gestured towards Tom and his retinue.
Gabrielle, who had been partially concealed behind Tom, peeked out and let out a cry: "Sister!"
"Gabrielle!" Fleur exclaimed, breaking into a run and embracing her sister tightly. She clearly hadn't expected to find her missing sibling here.
Tom studied Fleur with detached curiosity. She was like a mature version of Gabrielle, likely only a few years his junior.
"And these gentlemen?" Madam Maxime inquired, her brow furrowed.
Clearly, she had not yet perused the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. Otherwise, even the presence of Albus Dumbledore might not have induced her to extend such a warm welcome.
Tom smiled, clasped his hands behind his back, and announced with chilling nonchalance, "Tom Marvolo Riddle, known in certain circles as... Voldemort."
Nagini, coiled around Tom's shoulders, offered what might have been interpreted as an amicable smile. "Nagini, Tom's... associate."
"...!"
Madam Maxime and Fleur stared at Tom, mouths agape, utterly speechless.
Finally recovering, Madam Maxime turned a gaze of utter disbelief upon Dumbledore. I thought we had a rapport, but what madness is this? Bringing the Dark Lord to my doorstep?
Dumbledore offered a sheepish smile.
Tom, weary of the protracted silence, urged Dumbledore forward. "Time presses, Professor."
Before other headmasters, at least, Tom was apparently willing to maintain a veneer of civility towards Dumbledore.
Hearing Tom's words, Madam Maxime simpered politely while thinking, You two should hurry up and leave.
Dumbledore, astute as ever, was not likely to misinterpret her subtle cues.
"Is big brother leaving already?" Gabrielle lamented, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Do visit Hogwarts sometime," Tom offered, his tone almost gentle. "I suspect you and my apprentice would find common ground."
Seizing the opportunity, Madam Maxime, ever the gracious hostess, interjected, "Perhaps you might stay for afternoon tea before you depart?"
At the mention of afternoon tea, Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Why, I believe I could..."
Boom!
A whooshing sound echoed through the air, and Gabrielle and her companions vanished from sight.
Turning, they found Tom, Elder Wand in hand, having employed a crude variation of Apparition to whisk Gabrielle and her compatriots back inside the school.
"Afternoon tea? What is so tempting about it? If I were not in possession of the knowledge of Nicolas Flamel's whereabouts, do you imagine I would waste my breath indulging in pleasantries?" Tom glared at Dumbledore, displeasure etched upon his face.
The hapless Dumbledore, fearful of Tom unleashing his wrath upon Beauxbatons, could only sigh, draw his wand, and lead Tom and Nagini away.
...
Deep within a densely overgrown forest, Dumbledore prattled as he led the way, "Nicolas' dwelling is protected by a Fidelity Charm, erected to ensure his desired seclusion. However, as I am the Secret Keeper, I trust I retain the authority to intrude."
Tom remained silent, his mind preoccupied with the means by which he would compel Nicolas to yield should the alchemist prove recalcitrant.
After what seemed like an eternity, the oppressive forest abruptly gave way, revealing a secluded manor in the distance, where an elderly gentleman was engaged in the gentle act of watering his garden.
"Nico!" Dumbledore called out.
Hearing the summons, the gaunt and frail Nicolas Flamel slowly turned. "Albus!"
The two old friends, separated by countless years, felt the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. They embraced.
"It has been too long, Albus. You even brought me..." Nicolas Flamel trailed off, falling silent as his gaze landed upon Tom.
It was worth mentioning Nicolas Flamel had a habit of reading newspapers.
"Ahem... Nico," Dumbledore cleared his throat, his tone pointed, "did you not express a desire to embark upon a new adventure with your wife?"
Nico's face contorted in a grimace. "So, you brought him here? Did you wish me a painful death? Did you hire a professional to kill me?"
"Now, now, what nonsense is this?" Dumbledore protested, attempting to placate his old friend. "Tom has... evolved. He is not the menace he once was, I assure you."
"You have lived for over six centuries without an heir. Perhaps we might grant Tom a chance to carry on your work." Dumbledore fixed Nico with an earnest stare, hoping to sway him with sincerity.
Nicolas Flamel gazed from Dumbledore to Tom, a long silence stretching between them before he finally sighed, "Alas... I possess no further attachment to this life, nor the time to impart my knowledge."
"That is of no consequence," Tom stated flatly. "You may depart this world in peace, so long as you bequeath to me your notes."