The Things You See In a Graveyard - 4

Creating the armor did not take nearly as long as he had expected. The material accepted the enchantments without an issue. It helped that the idea of magical armor was rather common. Tom found multiple books on the subject. The enchantments were old. Applying his new lessons made it simple to improve on many of the rune arrays. He made sure to use the skills of his Pureblood minions as well. It was tempting to use them as walking wallets, but his combined memories told him that it wasn't a good idea. They were accustomed to people trying to use them for their money. While they didn't mind acquiring things for him, it wasn't just handing him gold. He could give them jobs that required specialized skills that needed things to be purchased. Putting value in their personal abilities and skills made them think he counted them more important than gold.

He used treated basilisk scales to create a gambeson. Tom was thankful that the shed skin from the magical snake didn't degrade like the mundane counterpart. In the end, he had a full suit of enchanted armor that was custom fit to his body. Then came the hard part. Figuring out a way to get it into the muggle world without being discovered. He also needed a way to use the armor that didn't trip magical detection. What good was a suit of armor if he could wear it?

The answer came to him two days before the end of term. A belt with an activation phrase. He had initially wanted to go with a ring, but silver and the various enchantments made it stand out too much. The belt appeared normal, even given the ornate buckle and trim. An activation word would make it shift to the full suit of armor. He had a shrunken chest of extra silver, enchanting tools, and a few copies of the important books tucked in his luggage. That way he could adjust as needed. Plus, there were a couple of ideas he wanted to try that he just didn't have enough time to do. The act of Enchanting took a surprisingly little actual magic power, which made him hope that it wouldn't be enough to cause attention.

The train ride was strange. His gathered minions barely spoke. When they did it was passive-aggressive or filled with sly references. Thankfully, the memories from Tom kept him up to speed.

"My lord," Yaxley asked.

Tom hadn't bothered socializing with them. He knew them by their family name and the inherited memories didn't provide much beyond potential worth.

"Yaxley," he replied with a flat stare.

"What are your orders for this break?" Yaxley asked deflating under the gaze.

"Simple," Tom answered. "Scout those to increase our ranks, subtly, and improve your skills. This summer will be a calm one. We can use the chaos of the war as cover." He paused. "Something more. A change in approach."

The group of minions perked up at that.

"Gather talented muggle-born," Tom ordered.

"Muggle-born, my lord?" Lestrange asked with contempt in his voice.

Tom hadn't bothered to learn his name beyond the family one. He couldn't call himself Harry anymore, but he had been Harry Potter much longer than he had been Tom Riddle.

"There is a war," Tom sighed. "Save them now and they will worship you. I have had time to consider our approach. Muggle-born are separate from Muggles. Most are born from discarded squibs. Returning magic to us rather than stealing it. They need guidance, leaders," he let a wicked smile cross his face. "They require rulers. Whom better than us?"

That seemed to get through to them. Visions of thrones, crowns, and loyal subjects danced across their imaginations.

"And what of the Muggles?" Malfoy asked, practically spitting the last word.

"What of them?" Tom rolled his eyes. "A boot has no concern for an ant." He let the words hang for a moment. "We will rule them in time. First, we must gather our strength properly."

"But you said-" Malfoy continued.

"I said to reclaim the lost lines of magic that have been incorrectly labeled Muggle-Born," Tom hissed the words, just short of Parseltongue. "Do you truly believe that magic would suddenly appear in a barren field? Born of forgotten squibs, lost lines, and other encounters."

Tom scanned the assembled group to make sure they understood his words.

"They are Lost not Muggle-born," he continued. "Do you truly believe that the Great Salazar Slytherin didn't have a bed-warmers? What of Gryffindor? There are dozens of stories of the braggart and his love for the muggles is no secret. Those are two examples. How many more unknown or unclaimed bastards are out there?" He paused, setting his sharp gaze on Malfoy. "Tell me, Malfoy, do you bother preventing your seed from taking root when you're with a muggle, or do you simply wipe their mind and be done with it?"

It was an open secret that Malfoy had a taste for muggles. No one spoke of it, just as no one mentioned that Yaxley and Bones were in a relationship. It didn't matter if you preferred the same gender as long as an heir or two was supplied.

"How many children are running around with that same shade of blond?" Tom asked. "Is the Malfoy Family Magic not able to empower offspring? Do you doubt your own… power?"

Malfoy fumed. He looked away, not daring to meet Tom's eyes.

"Exactly," Tom leaned back in his seat. "These little Malfoy bastards may never join our world. Their children, grandchildren, or such might. Would you call them Muggle-Born?"

An uncomfortable silence settled in the compartment. He could see the wizards silently going over their past encounters with muggles. The witches looked at them with barely held disdain.

"Oh," Tom chuckled. "Witches don't have the same hunger?"

The attention shifted back to him.

"How many… unexpected pregnancies and discarded babes were laid at the doors of muggle churches?" Tom teased. "Not everyone can look at the face of a newborn, see pieces of their likeness, and then simply count it as refuse. It is not weakness."

A few visibly jolted at his words as though they were a physical blow.

"What?" Tom let out a spine-chilling laugh (he may have practiced his best evil laugh). "Even I would hold my wrath in such a situation. Any of you," he swept his gaze over the witches that worshipped him. "Your child, regardless of the other source, is still your child. I'm not telling you to keep them around and claim them as an heir. Find a nice little family to keep them safe. Do you not have auxiliary lines?"

Tom let the silence settle among his minions.

"Now," Tom said in his practiced conversational tone. "I'm going to sleep. Wake me when we get close to the station."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat cushion. His thoughts were a maelstrom turning his words over and over. They hadn't exactly been his, but they hadn't been Harry's either. There was research in the Chamber that revolved around bloodlines and such. Slytherin wanted to protect all magical children, including muggle-born. There were theories of squib lines and forgotten dalliances, but this Tom hadn't read them. The knowledge simply came to him as the conversation progressed.

Slowly, his minions began to talk amongst themselves. He kept his breathing slow and even, letting his body go limp allowing himself to doze while somewhat aware. The spark of idea had been struck; he could only hope that it grew. Now he needed to impart noblesse oblige. It wasn't a perfect approach, but it was the best idea he had. The concept appealed to the Pureblood sense of superiority.

~

True sleep came at some point. More than a few were asleep as well when he finally regained consciousness. The compartment had thinned out a little, some going off to find their friends now that their leader was finished with them. There was a small portion that would find a quiet place to complete their summer assignments early. He wouldn't be surprised if a couple needed time to go over his words.

They still had an hour or so before they reached the station judging by the landscape. Tom rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and got to his feet. Those that were awake snapped their attention to him. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question only for them to look away.

Tom stepped out of the compartment. He was halfway to the toilet when he heard raised voices. One he recognized, another he did not. He followed the sound to find Lestrange standing in the doorway of another compartment. His hand was firmly gripping the upper-arm of a witch that was probably in her third year. Her discarded tie marked her as a Hufflepuff. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her friends were yelling for a prefect.

"Lestrange," Tom said stepping into view.

The witches in the compartment looked at him with hope. Tom was the golden boy of Hogwarts with only Dumbledore sensing something was wrong.

"Let her go," Tom ordered.

Lestrange complied without argument.

"What is going on here?" He asked.

The group of witches and Lestrange started to speak all at the same time. Tom sighed. He held up his hand and their voices went silent while their mouths still moved. It took them a moment to realize he had used wandless magic without an incantation. He pointed his finger at the upset Hufflepuff.

"You," Tom ordered.

"I was in her with my friends when he burst into the compartment and tried to take me," the girl said between sobs. "I don't even know who he is."

Tom turned his attention to Lestrange. The wizard wilted, but something conflicted played in his expression. Tom looked back at the other witches who nodded in agreement.

"I can't take points," Tom sighed. "But I will remove the unwanted element."

He grabbed Lestrange by the back of the neck and led him to an empty compartment. The door opened with a silent command. He tossed Lestrange into it, stepped inside, and sealed the door behind them.

"What was that about?" Tom asked as he lifted the silence spell.

"She's one of my muggle-born whores," Lestrange said struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. "As you said, there is a war out there and we need to care for our possessions."

He had to fight the urge to face-palm.

"And you thought you would simply tear her away from her friends and family?" Tom asked. "How is that a good idea?"

"I was going to erase their memories," Lestrange replied.

"Which would make them search for her," Tom countered. "Truly, Lestrange, you are an idiot."

Lestrange went still at the statement. The wizard reached for his wand only to find his body wouldn't listen to his commands.

"Do you think so little of me?" Tom shook his head.

He watched as Lestrange tried to fight the spell only to realize how outclassed he actually was.

"I will say that I am glad you took my words to heart," Tom said. "Even if your methods were crude and lacked forethought," he paused. "Make a list. All of the Lost you have encountered. This coming year we will gather all of them up. Not just yours, all of them." Tom's eyes went cold as he met Lestrange's gaze. "If I catch you, or anyone of my people, even looking at a witch below Fifth Year I will rip your mind to shreds and leave you in the sewer for the rats."

Lestrange tried but couldn't gulp.

"Do you understand, or do I need more drastic methods?" Tom let his voice drop.

Lestrange took a deep, shuddering breath as his body was his to control again.

"Gather the rest of our people," Tom ordered. "I do not want to have to repeat this lesson."

~

It took the rest of the train ride to get the more eager among his minions to understand what he meant. Finally, he told them to do the same thing as Lestrange. Make a list, this upcoming year they would gather those they could. He made sure each of them understood staying away from children. A quick look into the minds told him that he didn't want to take a deeper look unless absolutely necessary. These people were horrible before Tom came around. He also planted a solid compulsion to stop certain unforgivable actions. Those that he knew wouldn't be able to follow through on such orders were given another task. They were to personally test the potency of the all of the deadly potions and poisons they could craft. It was a task trusted to them exclusively and the process could not be given to another. If they weren't able to brew it themselves then they should find an apothecary that could be used in the future. Testing the potions personally was still top on the list.

He barely had time to change back into his mundane clothing before the train reached the station. It was easy to spot the Muggle-Born and Half-Blood students that were heading out into the non-magical world. They all had an undertone of panic in their eyes. No one wanted to leave the safety of the magical world when the alternative was German bombing runs, rationing, and potential invasion.

The magical side of the war with Grindelwald wasn't nearly as big as he had expected. Granted, Binns did not focus on recent history. Everyone knew that Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald in a duel, thus ending his rise to power. However, it felt like a distant thing rather than something happening out on the street. There were to occasional attacks, they just didn't compare to the possibility of dying in a bombing raid. He wasn't sure if a magical shield could stop a bullet. Tom did know that he had to have one up for it to work. He couldn't stop a bullet if he didn't know it was coming.

His armor was the only thing that gave him comfort in the days ahead. History from his previous life told him that Tom survived through the war. That didn't sound as comforting as it should have now that it was his life. His minions bid farewell, some with a new philosophy to consider and others rushing to brew their own demise. It was tempting to give them all the task to drink poison, but he hoped he could use them for his own means. Killing them was always an option for later.

For now, he had another side of Tom's life to experience.