Chapter Seven: And They Voted For Him Why?
Harry Potter and the Other Slayer by TruSlayer
Previously:"What has Mayor Wilkins got to do with any of this?"
Shaking his head, "Nothing, don't worry about it. What's important is that you get off the streets. Go home and relax for a while. In the meantime, I have some things that need to be done."
Tom and Buffy went their separate ways, taking cover in the shadows before any wandering eyes saw them.
"The mayor will see you now."
Deputy Mayor Allan Finch got up from his chair and reaching into his pocket, he readily pulled out a moist towlette and cleansed his hands. Taking a few calming breaths, he pulled the door open and walked into the dimly lit office, still in use at the late hours of the night.
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," Finch apologized as he closed the door behind him.
Looking up from the buiding plans for the new warehouse/demon lair, Mayor Wilkins replied, "I'm not bothered, Allan."
Stepping towards the desk, Finch opened the folder he came in with, "Well, I-I'm not sure how serious this is, but, uh, he was spotted in town yesterday morning."
As the Mayor picked up the files and proceeded to sniff the files before examining them, "Thomas Marvolo Riddle a.k.a. Lord Voldemort, uh, wanted in Wizarding England for capital murder, terrorism, uh, the use of forbidden dark magicks known as the Unforgivable curses..."
Finch was clearly flustered by the Mayor's sniffing, "Uh, I should have brought it to your attention sooner, but I'd, I'd wanted to...confirm..."
"Allan, do I smell antibacterial wipes?"
"Yes, sir. I-I mean, I, I washed my hands, but..."
"Now don't get me wrong, I think you've done a fine job but I think they still could be cleaner," the Mayor smiled weakly, "Do you remember what I've said about my mother? My dear mother said, 'cleanliness is next to godliness', and I believed her. She never caught a cold." Laughing for a bit, he continued, indicating the folder, "I'd like for this young man to be put under surveillance and I'd like to know if... any other colorful characters have come to town."
Biting back his sigh of relief, Finch replied happily, "I'll do my best, sir."
"No, I don't think he will."
Both men turned to the shadowed corner of the office to see Tom, having heard all of their conversation.
"Well, gosh," Wilkins said in surprise, "Ask and ye shall recieve. Tom Riddle, I presume?"
"Mayor Wilkins," Tom bowed his head in mock respect, "I believe it is time we had a little chat," a red flash of light flew from his concealed wand, instantly knocking Finch into the near wall and into unconsciousness, "in private, of course."
The Mayor tried to keep a calm exterior, but his eyes revealed anxiousness and distress beyond comparison, "Of course."
"I had a rather interesting talk with Randall Snyder of Sunnydale High," Tom started the conversation.
"Oh, did you now."
"Well, I didn't so much talk to him as read his mind for the information I needed," the slayer admitted, faking a bashful expression, "But just the same, what I learned was astounding. Apparently, he was working an ulterior motive at Sunnydale High. So it seems, he was stationed there to keep an eye out not for the active hellmouth, but for Slayer Summers and her companions and to cause them as much opposition as his position could provide...by you, of all people."
For the first time in over a hundred years, Richard Wilkins "the third" was speechless. This mere slip of a boy entered his personal offices undetected and had exposed some of his most delicate planning. Wilkins could only hope that Riddle didn't find out about the-
"And then there's the other thing Snyder had on his mind," Tom continued, interrupting Wilkins' thoughts on the matter, "That you were readying yourself to achieve an Ascension, the first one since what? 800 years give or take a decade?"
"Give or take," Wilkins stammered, his vocal chords nearly paralyzed with fear.
"And what gets me the most is that you'd willingly choose to become the embodiment of the demon Alvacon," Tom wrapped up his argument, "I mean seriously, a big snake?"
"This coming from the heir of Salazar Slytherin, himself," Wilkins remarked, proud of himself for the comeback.
"Especially if its coming from me," Tom replied in mock outrage, "You'd really sacrifice your limbs? Why not become Lo'hesh the Soul-eater? Or how about becoming the embodiment of Illyria? Huh? She was big in her day. Both literally and figuratively."
"Well, uh, the Books of Ascension weren't really clear on tha-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Tom cried, while pacing around Wilkins' desk and leaning back on one corner, "A sorcerer such as yourself, preforming such archaic magicks and you haven't even done all of the research! God, they used to give me such upstanding dark wizards."
"So, I guess this leaves us at a conflict of interests," Tom settled the issue, "You clearly want a doomsday scenario and I, however, do not. That leaves us with only one conclusion," Tom reached for his wand.
"But the hundred days-" Wilkins cried out, trying to bluff that he'd already carried out the ritual to make him impervious to harm.
"Have not begun yet," Tom answered knowingly, while removing his wand from his holster, "You see, Richard, while you were a fool, Snyder was not. He did the legwork. And everything he once knew, I know now. You were planning to start the hundred days next year, timing it out perfectly so that during graduation day, you could use all the advancing seniors as a ready sacrifice, including Miss Summers. Unfortunately, those plans depend on time you just do not have."
"And what is it you plan to do exactly?" Mayor Wilkins asked in trepidation.
With a small smirk, Tom put the tip of his wand to Wilkins' right temple, replying, "What a Slayer does best."