— — — — — —
After adding Grindelwald as a contact, Crouch left the room thoroughly satisfied.
Grindelwald, on the other hand, fell into thought. He was considering how to arrange Crouch, or more accurately, how to make use of him.
Using him as a spy felt unnecessary. The British Ministry of Magic was a nest of parasites anyway. Even without surveillance, Grindelwald knew exactly what people like Fudge and Scrimgeour were thinking and what they busied themselves with every day.
Besides, Tom had just finished stretching his legs. The next step was probably dealing with the Ministries directly. When that happened, it was better to let the boy handle it himself.
As for Dumbledore…
That old man was practically living right under Tom's nose. There was no real value in monitoring him. He was pitiful enough already. Grindelwald didn't want Dumbledore, when the cards were finally on the table, to discover that everyone around him was an informant, plus one final boss lurking in the shadows.
The old man might get so angry that he dropped dead on the spot.
"Forget it. I'll throw this headache to that kid."
Grindelwald laughed quietly. He realized he was getting lazier by the day. In the past, he would never have trusted others with decisions like this. Everything had to go through him.
But now? Watching Tom take a completely hands-off attitude toward anything not directly tied to power, he felt it might be worth learning from him. No need to let trivial matters drain his attention.
With a flicker of thought, Grindelwald contacted Tom through the study space, "Are you done over there?"
In Diagon Alley, Tom received the message. He opened shared vision and replied uncertainly, "I guess… more or less?"
Grindelwald fell silent.
In his view, Ginny, the sweet-smiling little witch who had just won the second-year division championship that afternoon, was now using the Entrail-Expelling Curse and Blood-Boiling Curse to torture an enemy. The world felt deeply wrong.
If you're going to kill someone, just kill them. Was there really a need to make it this disgusting?
Grindelwald couldn't help saying, "You're not going to stop her?"
"Why would I?" Tom replied casually. "My little maid isn't a pervert. She's just using this to get used to blood and grow faster. I'm thrilled if anything. Why would I stop her?"
Not easy, really. Finally, someone around him could shoulder real responsibility. A bit unhinged, sure, but as long as she was ruthless enough, that was fine.
"Crouch came to see you?" Tom asked offhandedly.
Grindelwald nodded. "He was very honest. He laid out everything from beginning to end. As long as his son can escape Voldemort's grip, nothing else matters to him anymore."
"That's why I came to you," he continued. "I want to know how you plan to use Crouch."
The old man phrased it cleverly. He wasn't dumping responsibility. He simply defined Crouch's placement as Tom's task. Even Tom didn't immediately notice.
Tom thought for a moment, then smiled. "Perfect timing, isn't it? Tell Crouch that this time I plan to clash with Fudge head-on."
He'd seen Bones's warning. He knew the honeymoon with Fudge was over. In the past, he might have considered tossing some gold around, staging a few spectacles to keep Fudge steady.
But now? Was he really going to change his plans because of Fudge and play some roundabout game?
Grindelwald inclined his head. "Then let's test Crouch's resolve and ability. Just don't let your little girlfriend go too far. If her nature really twists, that'll be troublesome."
With that, Grindelwald prepared to leave, but Tom stopped him. "Find a chance to shake Dumbledore off. I'll need… about a full day."
Grindelwald paused. "What are you planning to do?"
The boy smiled. "Purification."
...
At dawn, when the first scream rang out in Diagon Alley, the entire street erupted in chaos.
People gathered in front of the Astra Abyssum Guild, eyes filled with terror. More than twenty corpses were nailed to stone pillars. The row on the left was burned to charcoal. The row on the right was frozen into ice sculptures.
The sheer visual shock made many people retch on the spot. Those who didn't vomit still went pale.
"Th-that… are those goblins?" a bookstore clerk asked uncertainly. "What happened last night?"
"I know him. He's from the Bask family. And those others, they're from Knockturn Alley… Merlin's saggy underpants, they're just dead like this?"
More than twenty lives. For British wizarding society, this was a massacre that would go down in history. Even Voldemort had never been this unrestrained.
"Tom Riddle… is a madman."
Standing at the back of the crowd, Ollivander felt his heart pound. This kind of retaliation was far too ruthless. Even if it was self-defense, he would still be seen as a dark figure. The Ministry might even move to arrest him.
Were they about to see the birth of another Dark Lord?
The thought sent a chill through him. Ollivander turned and staggered away. No, he couldn't stay in Britain anymore. He needed to find somewhere to lie low first, then come back once the dust had settled.
"Make some room, make some room. Why are you all crowding the entrance? We're not even open yet."
Yawning as he arrived for work, Sirius fought his way through the crowd. Only when he reached the door did he finally look up, and then he froze.
"Holy shit."
---
At the Ministry of Magic, Fudge paced back and forth in his office, barely able to contain himself. Suddenly, he slammed his hand on the desk. "Good. Very good!"
Only then did he realize there were others in the room. He quickly corrected himself. "No, I mean, how vicious! Tom Riddle treats life like nothing at all. Lawless, absolutely lawless!"
There was no direct evidence yet that Tom had done it himself, but that hardly mattered. People were dead, and their bodies had been nailed up in front of the Guild as a public warning.
Even if it wasn't him personally, he was undeniably involved.
"Exactly, Minister," Umbridge chimed in, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I've said it before. Riddle has no respect for the Ministry or the law. Under Dumbledore's protection, he runs wild. So young, yet already this cruel. Give him a few more years and won't he become another…"
She stopped at just the right moment, her unfinished sentence making Fudge's heart jolt.
Another Dark Lord?
He'd long felt that Tom had no real respect for him as Minister, just like Dumbledore. Before, there hadn't been a conflict of interest. Some of Tom's actions had even benefited him.
But now they were openly at odds, and that boy still refused to rein himself in.
"Scrimgeour, you… forget it." Fudge had been about to order Scrimgeour to take Aurors to Hogwarts and arrest Tom on the spot, but after a moment's thought, he decided to play it safer.
They were already on the verge of a rupture. Going to the school to arrest a student would be slapping Dumbledore in the face and might even spark a confrontation. Better to talk first.
"I'll contact Dumbledore personally. Wait for my word."
Scrimgeour frowned, clearly unwilling, but nodded and left the office.
"Minister, I think the most important thing right now is to understand what led to this," Amelia Bones said. She hadn't left. "Riddle doesn't kill indiscriminately. And many of the dead were wanted fugitives, scum from Knockturn Alley."
"Hmm... Why did they die at the entrance of the Astra Abyssum Guild? That's what we need to find out. Arresting him rashly will only escalate things."
Fudge tugged at his collar, irritation written all over his face. "Of course we'll investigate. But we also have to make arrests. Do you have any idea how much impact this has caused? That was Diagon Alley, the busiest place of all. I guarantee that by this afternoon, every wizard in Britain will know about this outrage!"
Bones opened her mouth to argue further, but Fudge had already sat down and picked up the Codex to contact Dumbledore. Umbridge, wearing that nauseating smile, politely but firmly escorted Bones out.
Bones let out a helpless sigh. She headed straight for the public Floo, tossed in a pinch of specially prepared Floo powder, and disappeared into the flames bound for Greengrass Manor.
— — —
Hogwarts - Slytherin common room.
Every single little snake had been blocked at the entrance by their prefects, including the unofficial ones, and then escorted together to stand before Tom.
This had only happened once before. Back then, Tom had ordered everyone to target a Ravenclaw girl who bullied Luna. To this day, that girl was socially dead, completely isolated, without a single friend.
So who was it this time?
Some of the older students wore gleeful expressions, already guessing which unlucky soul had offended Tom.
"Last night, I killed some people."
Cradling Crookshanks, who no one knew how had wandered in here, Tom spoke casually. The words, however, made every Slytherin's face go pale, their hearts lurching.
The common room fell dead silent as they waited for him to continue.
"Someone got greedy and went after the gold and valuables I keep in Astra Abyssum. Small matters. I've already dealt with them. That said, there will be some follow-up trouble. I'm tired of it, so I'll let you handle it."
Tom swept his gaze across the room. "Not many of your parents hold posts in the Ministry, but I trust the foundations of your families. You're always saying the wizarding world belongs to purebloods. Well, now's the time to prove it."
"You have three days. I want to see Minister Fudge publicly supporting my actions in the papers, and apologizing to me on behalf of the Ministry."
"Anyone who contributes will become a classmate of mine—Tom Riddle—and receive generous rewards. As for the rest…" He smiled faintly. "We won't even be on nodding terms in the future. Understand?"
"Y-yes, understood!"
The little snakes panicked.
Draco Malfoy immediately pulled out his codex to contact his father.
Not even on nodding terms?
Did that mean he'd be shoved into a wall again?
No. Absolutely not. Not again.
There's a reward too? Just wait for me, Potter.
.
.
.