— — — — — —
Robert Graves took a nasty hit. To make it worse, Tom cast a gravity charm on the books that had fallen, making them crash down on Robert's head with loud thumps. He was dizzy and dazed, but somehow still conscious.
"I need the damn ICW's approval for my business? What a joke."
Under Fudge's stunned stare, Tom turned around with a mocking smile. "Since you're insisting I'm working with Grindelwald, fine, let's say I am. What now? Sending people to arrest me?"
"Minister Fudge, what he means is I, Tom Riddle, am a criminal?"
"I…" Fudge stammered, "Riddle, Graves didn't mean that… he just… he only doesn't want you funding the enemy. Your alchemy can influence the war in ways that aren't exactly… small."
"Cutting off someone's income is worse than killing their parents. Oh wait, I don't have parents." Tom shook his head with a smile. "But still if someone stops me from making money, that person is my enemy. Headmaster, what do you think?"
"Tom, go back and rest." Dumbledore gave Fudge a meaningful glance, then said to Tom, "Leave the rest to me. I'll make sure you get an answer you're satisfied with."
Tom nodded, ignored Fudge entirely, and walked straight out of the office.
Somehow this wretched man was even more disgusting in real life than he'd been in the visions granted by the Power of Time. Clearly his own prophetic ability still wasn't quite reliable.
"That kid's got attitude. Hah, serves them right." Phineas Nigellus watched Tom's retreating figure with schadenfreude; he found it refreshing. Now this was a proper Slytherin. Their blood was noble; what was wrong with being a bit arrogant?
What?
You say Tom is Muggle-born?
So what? With his achievements, give it a few generations and he becomes the very founder of a pure-blood line, a famous one at that. Who would dare say he's not?
Once Tom left, Dumbledore got up, walked over to Robert, crouched down, and asked with concern, "Mr. Graves, are you alright?"
"Dumbledore… I want…" Robert shook his head, managing to stay conscious. His voice dripped with hatred. "I want an explanation."
"Alright. Looks like you need some rest first."
Dumbledore waved a hand in front of his eyes, and Robert instantly slumped over, fully unconscious.
"Albus! What are you doing?" Fudge shouted.
He was convinced everyone in Hogwarts was insane. A student assaults an official, then the headmaster immediately knocks the official out. What was this? Murder and cleanup?
Fudge's hands and feet went cold. He bitterly regretted not bringing a few dozen Aurors as bodyguards.
Dumbledore must be planning a coup.
"Cornelius, Mr. Graves let his anger take over. I had to calm him down so he wouldn't interfere with our discussion."
Honestly, it wasn't Graves who was affected. It was Dumbledore. Ever since seeing Grindelwald again, he'd been carrying a knot of dark frustration with nowhere to vent it. Years of practiced serenity were close to collapsing, and his style had gotten noticeably more forceful.
Fudge fell silent, unwillingly so.
"Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "I don't know what you were thinking. You and Tom were on decent terms before today. After this, he will definitely hold a grudge."
"Why pick a fight with a young man who has a brilliant future?"
"How is this picking a fight?" Fudge protested. "Do you want him selling those alchemical tools that can block Killing Curses, or those instant-communication notebooks, to Grindelwald? Do you have any idea how much that would change the war?"
"Grindelwald has been able to send reinforcements to weak points instantly because of the Codex! We've lost more than twenty Aurors!"
Finally he had something to criticize Dumbledore for. The more he spoke, the more triumphant he felt.
"Of course I don't want Grindelwald getting help."
Dumbledore didn't look at him. He bent down and quietly put the scattered books back in place, one by one. "But your approach is wrong. To Grindelwald, the Ministry, and everyone else, Tom is just a merchant. They're all customers. He isn't selling contraband. What right do you have to demand he sacrifice profit, even offend the Acolytes, just to help us?"
"Even if he agreed, with Polyjuice-style disguises everywhere, can you guarantee Grindelwald won't find another way to buy them?"
"I…" Fudge opened his mouth, wanting to say yes, but he knew he'd be talking nonsense.
Any competent wizard could get around purchase limits. At best, the Ministry could cap quantities. It could never stop it outright.
The imposing tone Fudge had built up moments ago completely evaporated under Dumbledore's questioning. "Then what do you suggest? We can't just sit there doing nothing while the Acolytes arm themselves."
Dumbledore shook his head lightly. "I don't know business, but even I can see that most of Tom's products are made by him personally. If you want to limit them, why don't you just buy everything he's willing to sell? Why resort to methods that only create enemies?"
"We need to win over every talented witch and wizard we can. We can't afford to push them toward Grindelwald."
Dumbledore waved his hand. Robert's unconscious body floated over and landed beside Fudge. "Take Graves back. Explain things to him once he's calmed down. And don't bring him to Hogwarts again. No need to make tensions worse."
He had done everything he reasonably could. Whether Fudge would listen was another question. Dumbledore was exhausted from dealing with nonsense like this, yet he still had to clean up Tom's messes. If he didn't, the fallout would be even worse.
He sighed. Even more tired now. When would he finally get to die and be done with this?
---
In the Slytherin common room
Tom was thinking about how to make Robert sleep forever. He hated pests that popped up again and again.
This was only the first time, sure, but Tom was certain that if Robert lived, there would be a second. He had promised Laos he would leave Robert for him, but that had been under the condition that Robert didn't provoke him.
Still, Tom couldn't act within Britain's borders. And since he'd be heading to North America during the break to collect Cassandra's debt, Robert could enjoy a few more days of breathing.
"Tom, what are you thinking about?"
Daphne, nibbling on a late-night snack, noticed he'd gone silent for a long while and asked curiously.
"Nothing much. Just thinking about where to bury someone."
"Bury someone? Who?"
"A scumbag who thought he could threaten me."
"Huh?" Daphne instantly bristled with indignation. "Don't bother burying him. Just throw him into Azkaban and let a Dementor kiss him."
"Good idea." Tom nodded. "I'll definitely try that if I get the chance."
He wasn't saying that to placate her. He actually thought it was a decent option. Dementors were said to devour souls; even in the original timeline, Barty Crouch Jr had died from a Dementor's Kiss.
Wait... if a Dementor swallowed a soul… would it absorb it and erase the consciousness inside it?
That was worth studying. His current methods of extracting souls were crude and required some extremely nasty dark magic. Honestly, the process grossed him out. He didn't like using it.
---
The next day, students who were going home boarded the Hogwarts Express to London. Since more than half the school was staying for the break, the compartments were plentiful.
The Greengrass sisters and Penelope decided to leave Hogwarts.
While Ginny, Hermione, and Luna stayed at school.
"I heard you punched some big-shot from the Ministry yesterday?" Penelope asked curiously
Astoria stared at Tom in shock and worry.
Sure, Tom had racked up his share of victories before, including against teachers, but attacking a Ministry official was a different story. That kind of thing could land someone in Azkaban.
"That's nonsense." Tom denied it with complete seriousness. "I just had an unpleasant run-in with the man Fudge brought. But he's not a Ministry official. Just some foreigner."
"Oh-oh, he's the guy Professor Wilkinson hates. Robert Graves." Daphne's eyes sparkled.
"He is just a loser."
"Oh… that's fine then." Astoria relaxed at once.
But Penelope had a good memory. She remembered rumors about Robert's identity and asked cautiously, "That Graves… isn't he the International Confederation of Wizards' head of security?"
Tom nodded. The girl instantly paled.
"Don't worry." Tom smiled. "Don't take the ICW too seriously. It's a loose alliance with no real law enforcement power. They can only send armed forces into a country with that country's Ministry approval."
"And besides, I hit him right in front of Dumbledore. If Dumbledore wanted to stop me, Graves wouldn't have been touched. But he didn't lift a finger the whole time."
....
Dusk fell. The train finally arrived at King's Cross.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters buzzed with joyful reunions. Even Lady Greengrass, free for once, had come to pick them up.
The moment she saw Tom, she immediately noticed something. His aura… had changed again.
.
.
.