For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter Twenty: Machinations

"This is him," Archie handed her a moving picture. "I interviewed him for The Prophet last June."

Gwen nodded slightly.

"He's a half-blood political hopeful from Spain, but his Muggle mother is from England. There's been some rumors swirling among the tabloids that his father, who made his fortune in goblin mines in Catalonia, is set on launching his son's first campaign. But he needs supporters here, and it's unlikely he will get them."

"Why?"

She had never seen the Gryffindor so serious.

The floor of the broom-shop creaked under Archie's foot as he shifted his weight. "Well, he's a half-blood, raised in another country."

Gwen, who was used to conquering and schemes that surpassed borders, raised a brow. "And that matters?"

"Surprisingly, the Ministry follows Muggle custom. You're automatically a British citizen if, when you were born, one of your parents was a British citizen or settled in the UK. So, he has the right to campaign here. But as I was saying, if people aren't familiar with you, or think you're aren't familiar with the culture-"

"-you're not likely to get elected," Gwen finished for him, finally understanding.

"Exactly."

Now it was Kenji that spoke up. "He's confirmed for the gala?"

Archie nodded. "He's on my press list."

"Gwen's role is two-part," Dumbledore supplied from his seat. His fingers were woven together, and his forehead had previously been resting against the knot of his hands. Elphias sat next to him, looking forlorn. "First, you must publicly get him to admit that he is sentimental toward muggle-borns."

"And what purpose does that serve?" spoke the Scottish witch, Ailith, for the first time.

"If he winds up dead, it confirms our suspicions, that someone has specifically been targeting those who align with furthering muggle-borns' position in the magical world."

So, he was most definitely anticipating a murder.

Lovely.

"What's the other part?" Gwen asked with slivered eyes.

"The other part is you seeding presently false information and then making it true."

His blue eyes sparkled, but the sheen wasn't kind.

"While in conversation, you must mention that you know of an up-and-coming love potion to hit the market—one that behooves the drinker to blind fidelity—from your work as an Unspeakable. Tempt Mr. Mauricio Sia with it, allude without directly saying that he could potentially grow his following tenfold."

Gwen scoffed, "But no such potion exists."

"That's why you must begin to brew it."

Gwen's mood immediately soured, but her face remained impassive.

"Who's to say that he will be that morally malleable?" asked Kenji.

"Those who seek power but are backed into a corner often do desperate things," Dumbledore said simply.

It took all of Gwen's control not to glower.

He was manipulating her again, treating her like a pawn, always forcing her hand in a direction she did not want to go. Brewing such a potion would require months of research, but she was certain that he expected it to be readily available whenever he called upon her.

In that moment, she wanted to smack him. She wanted to stab him. She wanted to surpass his manipulation, until he was the one leashed to a poisoned bridle.