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"Ah, that."
Agatha curled her lip and kept flipping through the Book of Cagliostro, explaining in a bored, offhand tone.
"Word's been going around lately that the Ministry of Magic has raised its banner against the Witch. Attracted quite a few wizards to the cause."
"And then?" Hermione gestured for her to continue.
"And then it gets interesting." Agatha set the book down. "Another faction popped up, directly opposed, calling themselves the Witch Cult, with you as their supreme Lady Witch. They say the Ministry people are all hypocrites, and that only by following you can anyone gain true power and freedom."
"Oh, and," Agatha added, "the Ministry's side calls you the 'World-Destroying Dark Witch.' Root of chaos. Future disaster for Earth. The Witch Cult side, naturally, defends your honor. Both factions are at each other's throats, one step away from all-out war."
Hermione listened, her expression giving nothing away. Inside, the picture was already clear.
Tom Riddle. Not bad at all.
He'd followed her instructions to the letter, using those not-yet-activated artificial wizards to build two opposing forces from the ground up. The Ministry of Magic. The Witch Cult. A manufactured conflict that dragged the entire Wizarding World into the open and put it under a global spotlight.
The Ministry stood for order and control. The Witch Cult stood for power and freedom.
Whichever side people chose, the focal point was always going to be the same: her.
"Nobody knows quite how it leaked," Agatha went on, "but now the whole world knows wizards exist. And they know about you, the 'Dark Witch.'"
"And of course, the ordinary people had to pile on too. The ones who like you organized themselves into something like a spiritual fan club, singing your praises day and night. The ones who see you as a threat formed all sorts of anti-Witch groups and joined the Ministry in calling you a menace." Agatha curled her lip. "The funniest part? Both sides are at each other like mortal enemies — absolute chaos — all over you. And meanwhile, you, the woman they're fighting about, quietly vanished into outer space for a few months. You probably didn't even know you'd picked up the nickname 'Dark Witch' until just now. Ridiculous, isn't it?"
Hermione made no comment.
Good. When Tom Riddle gets back, he deserves a reward.
Not that the truth could leave this room. The real nature of the Marvel Wizarding World was known to exactly three people: her, Tom Riddle, and Luna. Everyone else, even the other members of the Witch Cult, stayed in the dark.
Right on cue, the air warped. Tom Riddle reappeared in the church with Wanda in tow.
The moment they landed, Wanda instinctively pulled her hand free from Tom Riddle's grip. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes, fixed on him, were practically glowing, admiration and delight so unguarded they were nearly spilling over.
Tsk. That damned suspension bridge effect. Plus Tom Riddle's face really does do a lot of the work for him. Hermione shook her head inwardly.
Wanda took a breath, visibly steeling herself, and walked quickly toward Hermione. She opened her mouth, and looked like she was about to drop to her knees in some kind of formal greeting.
"Lady Wit—"
"Stop right there." Hermione raised a hand. "None of that. Just call me Hermione."
Wanda blinked, nodded a little uncertainly, and stepped aside. Her eyes, though, kept drifting back to Tom Riddle.
Hermione looked her over.
Young Wanda was exactly as advertised, fresh, bright, lovely in every obvious way, with eyes that were genuinely striking. A shame, really. If things had gone differently, she wouldn't have had to stand here watching Tom Riddle be charming at anyone.
Vision could just go ahead and paint himself green.
Then again, the Mind Stone was in her possession. Whether Vision would even exist at this point was anybody's guess.
Hermione shifted her attention to Tom Riddle.
He was completely ignoring Wanda's openly besotted stare. Instead, his brow was furrowed, and he kept stealing quick glances at Hermione with the look of someone who had something to say and absolutely no idea how to say it.
Hermione's patience thinned. What is wrong with him?
"Why are you looking at me?" she said flatly. "There's a perfectly lovely girl standing right next to you with her whole heart in her eyes, and you're staring at me. Do I have something on my face?"
Wanda's face went scarlet, ears and all. She ducked her head, fingers twisting anxiously at the hem of her clothes.
Tom Riddle, called out, only looked more uncertain. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, his expression tangled as he glanced at Hermione.
"I..."
Something in Wanda's face changed. She must have misread the situation, because the flush drained away, leaving her pale. The light in her eyes went quiet.
Agatha, who had abandoned any pretense of reading, was watching all three of them with her eyes wide and her face lit up with undisguised delight.
Oh-ho.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
She knew Tom Riddle. Whatever this was, it was not that. He had never looked at her with anything resembling worldly desire, and he wasn't starting now. Something else was going on.
She snapped her fingers. The sharp crack cut right through his hesitation.
"If you've got something to say, say it," she said, giving him a flat look. "Stop standing there turning it over. Keep this up and Wanda's going to defect from the Witch Cult and stage a coup."
"I..." Tom Riddle held her gaze for a moment, then let out a breath and looked away. "It's nothing. I was probably imagining it."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. Tom Riddle never said things without reason. Whatever he'd been about to say, he'd sensed something real.
"What is it, actually?" she pressed. "Stop hedging."
He was quiet for a moment, seeming to search for the right words. Then: "It's just a feeling. Hard to pin down. Since you got back, your aura, it feels more and more like mine."
"Like yours?" Hermione stilled.
"Yeah." He nodded slowly, expression uncertain. "There's something off about it. Unnatural. Maybe your magic increased again, and that's making it clearer than before?"
Hermione went quiet.
Tom Riddle's instincts were never wrong, especially when it came to anything touching the soul.
Had reaping too many souls left some kind of mark on her?
She almost had it, some thread of an idea, something significant, but it slipped away before she could close her hand around it.
Her phone rang.
She pulled it out and checked the screen. Mildly surprised.
Not Fury.
She answered.
"Hermione? You're back on Earth?" Tony's voice came through, bright with barely-contained excitement.
"Just got back. What is it?"
"So, um." A pause. His tone was careful in the way Tony Stark's tone almost never was. "Any chance we could borrow the Mind Stone? Just for a little while?"
➤ Next: The Ultron Project
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