Harry Potter: I, Tom Riddle, am not the Dark Lord

Portkeys were one of the most commonly used means of long-distance travel among wizards, capable of whisking a person instantly from one location to another fixed point.

Although Apparition was a far more convenient form of magical transportation, not all wizards could master it. Even for those who had, traveling great distances by Apparition was often impossible.

It was worth noting that Portkeys were not a form of instantaneous teleportation; rather, they worked by propelling the object and anyone touching it at an astonishing speed—over a thousand miles per hour—until they reached the destination.

The Ministry of Magic placed strict controls on their use. Every Portkey had to be officially registered before it was used, and even after use, it had to be returned for centralized disposal. International travel was the most tightly regulated of all—requiring at least two weeks' notice and the approval of both countries' Ministries of Magic.

Originally, Tom had intended to take a Muggle airplane to America—after all, there was no way a minor like him would get Ministry approval for an international Portkey. But to his surprise, Mrs. Greengrass had already arranged everything for him.

Thinking about it, it made perfect sense. As Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, acquiring an international Portkey was an ordeal for others—but for Mrs. Greengrass, it was as simple as writing the application herself and stamping her own approval.

"While you're at it, could you get me two Portkeys from America to France? I'll be visiting Nicolas Flamel in August," Tom said, recalling his holiday plans.

"Mmm. I'll contact them. Every time you register your arrival, they'll give you a return Portkey. You can just go directly from Britain to France then."

"That's a great help, thank you."

"No need to thank me, Tom," Mrs. Greengrass said warmly, motioning for him to help himself to more dishes.

After the luncheon, Daphne had planned to take her little sister to see the unicorns, but Mrs. Greengrass invited Tom to her study instead. The sisters had no choice but to go for their nap first, planning to visit the unicorns later in the afternoon.

Tom followed her upstairs. The castle had many studies—an entire three floors on the east wing were devoted to a massive library—but the one Mrs. Greengrass led him to was on the fourth floor, in the private quarters of the owner's wing.

They sat opposite each other at an enormous desk. With a small wave of her hand, tea appeared on the tabletop.

"Tom, how much do you know about Astoria's blood curse?"

Tom recounted everything he had learned from Grindelwald and Dumbledore.

When she heard Dumbledore's name, Mrs. Greengrass's brow furrowed slightly, though her expression quickly returned to calm.

"From the sound of it, you've got a fairly complete picture," she said. "It's a curse that devours life force—one that appears without fail in every generation. My sister, my aunt… all victims of it."

Her beautiful face turned sorrowful. "But what does knowing change? When I gave birth to Daphne, for the sake of the family's continuation, I had to have another child—and with my bloodline, one of them was bound to suffer."

"Tom, thanks to you, Astoria's been able to live more comfortably than I ever thought possible."

"My ancestors considered asking Nicolas Flamel for the Philosopher's Stone," she continued, "but the great alchemist has never let a drop of Elixir of Life leave his possession. The fact you managed to get the Stone… it astonishes me."

Tom smiled and shook his head. "It was pure timing, really. According to Dumbledore, Nicolas Flamel and his wife decided they'd lived long enough, so they lent the Stone to Dumbledore as bait. I just happened to be there at the right moment to get it."

"That in itself is a kind of talent," Mrs. Greengrass said, thinking Tom far too modest—especially with that name of his. To snatch something from under Dumbledore's nose was no small feat.

Her expression grew serious again. "Tom, I intend to open all of House Greengrass's treasures and resources to you—to help you reach the pinnacle of magic as quickly as possible."

"In return, I have only one request: that if you ever have the means, you find a way to remove the blood curse completely."

Tom shook his head. "You don't need to make it a bargain. For Daphne's sake, I'd do everything I could anyway. She helped me a great deal when I first entered the wizarding world. If I wasn't willing to help, I wouldn't have brought out the Philosopher's Stone in the first place."

Truth be told, what Tom really wanted was the method of creating the blood curse itself. Then, whenever someone crossed him, he could ensure their family line ended forever. To most pure-bloods—except perhaps a few madmen—nothing was more precious than the continuation of their lineage.

He had asked Grindelwald before, but the old man's repertoire of blood curses was pitiful—little more than curiosities.

It made sense, though. Wizards who could craft such vicious, insidious curses were usually among the most depraved of Dark wizards—and such men were not in the habit of sharing their work.

"You value loyalty. So does House Greengrass," Mrs. Greengrass said with a small smile. That, more than anything, was why she had chosen to invest in Tom. Daphne's earlier gift of fifteen hundred Galleons barely covered a month's maintenance of the castle—but Tom's return had already far exceeded that sum.

Wizards were creatures of conviction. Their personalities rarely changed unless they suffered a great upheaval—and even then, such change often diminished their power. "Three years old and already the man you'll become," as the saying went.

Following that philosophy, Mrs. Greengrass had avoided major mistakes for years. Even in times of decline, she had survived unscathed simply by not ending up on the losing side—at worst, she had to accept a smaller share of the spoils.

"Tom, you may think magic is ultimately about personal power—and that aside from stronger wizards, no one else can really help you."

"I may not be particularly powerful myself," she continued, "but the strength of my family's legacy is still something I can lend to you."

As she spoke, she walked to a wall of bookshelves. With a specific wand movement, she unlocked a hidden compartment and retrieved a thick stack of parchment. Returning to her seat, she smiled faintly at the boy before her.

"Do you know why House Greengrass has been able to thrive for centuries, sitting atop vast wealth without inviting envy or attack?"

Tom shook his head.

Truth be told, he couldn't imagine why.

Look at them now—a single middle-aged beauty and two young ones. They didn't even have enough members to muster a token fighting force. Yet they lived lavishly, without even trying to hide it.

Why hadn't one of those deranged, Dark Arts-obsessed families swooped in to take advantage?

"This is our family's ultimate secret," she said. "Though, to be fair, most of the old families know it too."

Mrs. Greengrass slid the stack of parchment toward him. "Take a look."

Tom's eyes widened slightly when he saw what was written.

A contract?

The first parchment was clearly a contract—between House Greengrass and the Lestrange family. Its terms stated that, provided it didn't severely damage their own interests, Lestrange would unconditionally help House Greengrass in any one matter.

Tom flipped to the second sheet. This one was with the Beaux family—a pure-blood family from France. He knew of them; the last French Minister for Magic had come from their ranks.

Then came the names: Avery, Carrow, Crouch, Borgin…

Of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, aside from Longbottom, Weasley, and Shacklebolt, all the remaining twenty-five were on the list—some with more than one contract.

Tom sucked in a sharp breath and stared at Mrs. Greengrass in astonishment.