"My Lord, the Portkey has arrived," Snape announced, retrieving a battered barrel from the depths of a disused well. It was their means of conveyance to the continent.
...
Their destination: Paris. The city of lights and romance.
"I'll never understand why wizards always feel the need to pop into existence in Paris when they come to France," Harry commented, unimpressed.
Malfoy, ever insightful, paused, then offered his reasoning. "Because, Potter, when you think of France, you think of Paris, don't you?"
Tom, who was leading the group, considered this for a moment. A strange smile crept across his face as he casually draped an arm around Nagini. "And what comes to mind when you think of Paris?"
Cassandra visibly bristled at the gesture. Nagini, however, seemed too flustered to notice the subtle tension.
"Hmm, let me see..." Nagini frowned, focusing intently. "Sorry, nothing comes to mind."
"And what about you, Tom? What did you think of?" Cassandra smoothly inserted herself into the conversation, looping her arm through Tom's other arm.
"Me?" Tom's tone was laced with amusement. "I thought of blue."
A collective expression of bewilderment spread across the faces of Cassandra, Hermione, and the others.
Snape, his brow furrowed, was trying to decipher his master's cryptic comment. What is he planning? He silently agonized, feeling the familiar sting of frustration. So this is what those imbecilic trolls feel when I curse them. Wonderful.
Nagini rolled her eyes, a mischievous glint momentarily lighting her usually serene face. Changing the subject, she asked, "So, what's the plan?"
"To catch someone." Tom's gaze drifted over the bustling streets, seemingly searching for a specific person, but more likely just looking for something to pique his interest.
"Catch someone?" Luna tilted her head. "Professor, who exactly are we catching?"
"Isn't there a Ministry of Magic here in France?" Hermione looked puzzled. Why not just let the local Aurors handle it?
"They're too weak. They wouldn't be able to catch him, and would most likely get themselves killed in the process," Tom said dismissively, his eyes scanning the crowd. He was subtly employing Legilimency, sifting snippets of information from passing thoughts.
"My Lord, you can't possibly be referring to…?" Snape's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. There were only a handful of individuals in the world capable of eluding an entire Ministry of Magic.
"Oh, another Tom Riddle," Luna stated matter-of-factly. "Yes, that would definitely be beyond their capabilities. They'd probably be annihilated if they tried."
Harry and Malfoy exchanged eager glances. Hermione, predictably, was concerned. "But wouldn't that be overstepping our authority? Wouldn't the Ministry of Magic be furious and come after us?"
"They wouldn't dare. Dumbledore and I have both given them a good thrashing in the past."
"..."
Snape subtly curled his lip, knowing full well the truth of that statement regarding Dumbledore.
Tom turned his gaze toward Hermione. "Don't worry yourself. My handpicked Minister won't be intimidated by such trivialities."
"Yes, sir!"
The worried lines on Hermione's brow vanished, replaced by a radiant smile, her face practically glowing with the encouragement she'd received from Tom.
"Here we go again," Malfoy muttered under his breath.
"Yes, here we go again," Harry repeated softly, equally resigned, his eyes flitting nervously between Cassandra and Nagini.
Tom suddenly felt a distinct drop in temperature. He glanced back to see Cassandra and Nagini walking side by side, smiling with an unnerving intimacy. Their gazes, though smiling, held a decidedly dangerous edge.
"Tom is so considerate, don't you think?"
"Yes, so kind! I wonder if he's like that with everyone?"
"I wouldn't doubt it. After all, he's just naturally gentle."
"Hey, Cassandra, wasn't there something called 'central air conditioning' in the Muggle world?"
"I think I've heard of it, though I haven't seen much of it myself…" Cassandra casually glanced toward Tom as she spoke, continuing her "casual chat" with Nagini, still smiling. "Okay, yes, I've seen it. Why? Are you thinking of getting one?"
"No, I'll destroy it completely." Nagini's smile took on a distinctly villainous quality. "After all, I wouldn't want to sell that kind of thing to anyone else. And since I can't use it, I might as well just scrap it."
Tom, who had been subtly mocking them both for so long, found himself speechless. My possessive apprentice I can handle, but when did my little snake become so ruthless? This is a descent into darkness! She's threatening to murder me, right in front of my face!
Tom sighed inwardly, defeated. Oh well, as long as those two don't start fighting.
Snape, standing nearby, felt a surge of smug satisfaction, though he carefully kept his expression neutral.
But then, a wave of profound sadness washed over him. Tom Riddle has two girlfriends. I don't even have a date to the bloody Yule Ball! Forced to sit on the sidelines, watching the love blossom…Harry? When will you finally grow up? No…Lily! Oh, Lily, I miss you so!
"Let's go. Over there." Tom said, leading them across a bustling intersection, dodging buses and weaving through pedestrian traffic.
"My Lord, have you located our target?" Only when the murderous aura emanating from Cassandra and Nagini had dissipated did Snape dare to approach his master.
"Ah? No, that's the way to the Paris Opera." Tom replied, his tone devoid of all emotion.
"But, sir, weren't we here to catch another Dark Lord?" Harry asked in a strained voice, forcing a nervous laugh.
"Whatever. If we stumble across him, we stumble across him." Tom was far more interested in sightseeing, it seemed. "That old fool Dumbledore won't even give me a raise; a token effort is more than enough."
The Potions Master, the personal potion brewer for the House, summoned by Dumbledore, always at Tom's beck and call, always on duty, workaholic Snape, "…"
Hermione and the others wanted to protest Tom's casual attitude, but they thought better of it. Tom gave the orders, they followed them, simple as that.
Seeing that they weren't going to be bothered for the moment, Cassandra inquired curiously. "Tom, why the Paris Opera?"
"Because I've never been."
He had lived in an orphanage until the age of eleven, and his education had been funded by loans and strict frugality. After graduating, he was dragged to Egypt, only to return to Hogwarts immediately afterward. Even now, there were countless places Tom had never seen.
He hadn't been interested before, but now that he was essentially immortal, or at least as close to it as made no difference, he needed to find something to fill his time.
Tom sighed quietly. "I just wanted to see it, that's all. Just for the experience."
If it had been known beforehand, the opera house would probably already be in Death Eater hands.
Those fanatics would do anything for their Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord expressed mild interest? They would have found a way to acquire it, without Tom even having to say a word.
Perhaps they would start with legitimate methods, but if those failed? Well, then a myriad of unexpected "accidents" might occur.
In short, had the Death Eaters known of Tom's interest in advance, Tom could have changed his mind at the last minute, or even punched someone he didn't like on stage, and the Death Eaters would have cheered him on.
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