The Banshee's Hand

It had been another bitterly disappointing shift for Riddle. Mr. Burke had dispatched him earlier that afternoon to see a wizard in Herefordshire. His task had been to make an offer for an ancient dagger, which the wizard claimed had once belonged to Herpo the Foul, the original creator of the basilisk. However, upon arriving and seeing the dagger for himself, Tom could see that it was an obvious forgery. It took every ounce of restraint in his being to prevent him from killing the wizard for wasting his time. He felt as if he was getting closer. Any day now he would find something worthy of his lineage. Until then, he must refrain from drawing too much attention to himself.

Riddle was never the type to be distracted, but what Tiberius and Titus had said at their last meeting occupied his thoughts constantly. If it was true, and the son of Grindlewald really was coming to England to kill Albus Dumbledore, it presented either a great opportunity or a terrible problem. If he could gain favour with Vergeltung, perhaps he would make a valuable ally. Riddle would be glad to see Dumbledore gone, but he was more than willing to allow another the honour of killing the old fool. Then again, what guarantee did Riddle have that his abilities would be any use to Vergeltung at all? What if Vergeltung decided to go one step further after destroying Dumbledore and take over the wizarding world, as his father tried to do? What made Titus and Tiberius so sure that this man had the ability to kill Dumbledore in the first place? All these questions and more swum through Riddle's mind as he pushed against the heavy door of the Banshee's Hand. After such an abysmally fruitless day, he needed a drink.

He spotted Rosier sitting alone at one of the far tables, nursing a glass of brandy in his hand. Riddle acquired his own drink from Gratus before joining his 'friend'.

"My Lord," said Rosier respectfully.

"Rosier," replied Riddle. "You seem agitated."

"There's been more news about ...well, you know ...Vergeltung ..."

"Indeed?"

"Yes ...they say he's coming to London ...possibly recruiting help in his little venture ..."

"He plans to kill the second greatest wizard in the world. I'd hardly call that a 'little venture'," stated Riddle.

"Second greatest? Oh ...yes, of course, my Lord," said Rosier quietly. He took a sudden and large swig from his drink. Sweat was dripping down his forehead. "What if he wants some of us to help him? I mean ...I'm not ready to go up against Dumbledore ..."

"No, none of us are yet," said Riddle gravely. "Still, if the 'great Vergeltung' does grace us with his presence and ask for our service, some would say it would be fatal to refuse."

"That's what I mean, my Lord!" said Rosier hoarsely. "He'll get us killed if we join with him and he'll kill us if we don't ...perhaps if we leave London now ..."

"No, you fool!" hissed Riddle unexpectedly. He fixed Rosier with his cold gaze. "I have no intention of leaving London until I have what I am looking for ...and you don't leave until I leave."

"No, of course not, my Lord," whispered Rosier.

"We have a plan, Rosier, and we must keep to it. The same goes for Dolohov. He may be an imbecile but I have no doubt that he will remain faithful."

"And ...and what of the others? Augustus, Tiberius and Titus?" Riddle sat back in seat and stared into his glass for a moment or two. He closed his eyes and breathed in softly.

"Tiberius is a lost cause. A shame, his thuggish nature could have come in useful ..."

"Perhaps, if you were to tell him that you are the heir of ..." started Rosier timidly.

"No, no," interrupted Riddle surprisingly softly. "He would not believe me and it would only lead to trouble. When the time comes, Tiberius must die."

"What about his brother?"

"Ah yes, Augustus ...he's more of a mystery. Not as easy to read as Tiberius. We shall have to wait and see about Augustus. As for Titus, he thinks himself too important to join us. He must go the same way as Tiberius." While Riddle took a sip from his drink, Rosier finally worked up the courage to ask a most dangerous question.

"And Vergeltung? What should we do if he does turn up, looking for cannon fodder?" Riddle continued to sip his drink casually. A smirk appeared on his lips as he finally put the glass down.

"We shall simply stay out of his way. If he wants to go and get himself killed before his time that is his own business. We shall stick to our own plans. Does that put you at ease at all, old friend?"

"Oh ...oh yes, my Lord."

You didn't need Riddle's skill in Legilimency to tell that Rosier was lying, but for the moment it didn't matter. All that mattered was his search. This fool looking to kill Riddle's old teacher meant nothing to him. Rosier had gone to get them both more drinks when Dolohov came barging through the door into the inn. He rushed excitedly over to Riddle's table, failed to see Rosier in the process and collided heavily with him. The two glasses of Firewhiskey were spilled all over the pair of them. Riddle let out a loud, high laugh. At times he felt as if he kept these fools around him for no other reason than to keep him mildly amused.

"Nice going, Dolohov!" roared Rosier. "You can pay for the next bloody round!"

"My ...my Lord ...he's here," wheezed Dolohov. "Vergeltung is here, in London, right now!"