— — — — — —
The Next Day
Daily Prophet posted an apology letter and official statement from the Ministry of Magic, issued in Fudge's name.
The statement fiercely condemned Bask and his accomplices for their illegal actions, branding them violent home-invading criminals. At the same time, it praised Tom Riddle for standing up to the attackers and announced that he would be awarded the First Class Order of Merlin, a clear signal of the Ministry's stance.
After that came the promised crackdown on Knockturn Alley. On paper, at least, it looked convincing. The Ministry struck a righteous pose, declaring itself utterly opposed to crime.
Students kept sneaking glances at Tom. Secrets never stayed buried for long. Plenty of people had seen what happened the other day, when a whole crowd of pure-bloods and Dumbledore himself showed up at Fudge's door. Many of the students here had parents working at the Ministry and knew more than they let on.
Fudge was still barely holding onto a veneer of dignity, but only the department heads and senior officials truly understood how things stood now.
The Minister was a figurehead in name only. The ones who actually held power were Bones, Greengrass, and those closely tied to Riddle. They were the real decision-makers now.
Lady Greengrass didn't even bother going into the Ministry anymore.
Bones's office, on the other hand, was packed to the brim. Anyone with even a shred of ambition showed up to pay their respects, with the obvious exception of people like Arthur Weasley, who had long since mastered the art of coasting.
...
Over in Diagon Alley, the corpses that had been lying outside the Astra Abyssum Guild quietly vanished. With those nauseating sights gone and the Ministry's statement published, people who had been hesitant about posting commissions finally relaxed. They trickled back into the Guild, lining up to ask Catherine to register their requests.
Many witches and wizards weren't conservative because they loved the old ways. They simply didn't know how good the new ones were. Once you tried them, there was no going back.
Take the Codex, for example. It had developed to the point where people were completely used to life without owls. As a result, owl sales at pet shops plummeted.
The Astra Abyssum Guild worked much the same way. Compared to the old headaches of trading goods, not knowing who to contact, and the Ministry's painfully slow efficiency, Astra Abyssum was in a league of its own.
Its headquarters was basically a one-stop hub for administration and commerce. One visit could solve everything. And if you had spare time, you could even take on side jobs and earn some extra galleons.
After this incident, anyone with a functioning brain could see just how powerful Astra Abyssum's backing really was. That only made people more confident about using it.
Knockturn Alley, though, was utterly ruined.
Hit Wizards sealed the entrances. The Department of Magical Transportation shut down the Floo Network. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement prepared the harshest possible sentences.
Several Auror teams already stormed the alley and swept it clean. No questions asked. Everyone was arrested first, explanations later. Old Borgin was the only one who escaped, having gotten advance warning from Tom. Everyone else was hauled off, shopkeepers and customers alike.
It took two full days and nights of interrogation before they finally released the people with clean records.
The few shop owners who had slipped through the net gathered together afterward, their faces dark. They looked about as cheerful as Snape seeing Sirius Black alive and well.
"Tom Riddle…" an elderly man growled. "I see it now. This was all his plan. He wanted an excuse to wipe out Knockturn Alley and bring every dark troublesome voice under his control."
"And those idiots like Bask just walked right into it," someone else spat. "Handed him the perfect excuse."
"Fudge is an idiot too!" shrieked an old witch with one blind eye. "Can't even outplay a child. What right does he have to be Minister for Magic?"
"Enough," someone interrupted impatiently. "What's the point of saying all this now? What are we supposed to do?"
"What can we do?" the old man said bitterly. "The rules have been rewritten. We either submit or get wiped out. Even Dumbledore stood up for him, and the pure-bloods are cooperating like obedient lambs. With us sewer rats, do you really think we can fight Riddle and Astra Abyssum?"
"All we can do is wait. Wait for someone who can stand against him. Until then, we behave. I'm certain he's still watching us, just waiting for us to slip up."
After that, no matter how unwilling they felt, the others knew he was right. It was the only way they'd survive.
---
Over the next few days, reality proved that the saying about age sharpening wisdom into something monstrous was absolutely true.
Tom really was still watching those who had slipped through the net. The moment the Aurors pulled out, he had Lady Greengrass buy up every vacant shop in Knockturn Alley on his behalf. By now, less than twenty percent of the properties there still belonged to others. The rest all bore the Riddle name.
There was no room left to expand in Diagon Alley. Ollivander was the true land tycoon there. That left only Knockturn Alley as a target.
Tom had plans to turn it into a full strip of food, drink, and entertainment.
— — —
In the blink of an eye, Saturday arrived.
No matter how chaotic things were outside the school, the competitions inside Hogwarts went on as scheduled.
Today was the third-year division.
Compared to Ginny's 100% winning performance, Hermione's chances of winning were just a little over forty percent.
So early that morning, Tom squeezed himself onto the Gryffindor table to help the girl relax.
A Slytherin wandering over to Gryffindor was almost unheard of. Apart from Tom, no one else would dare. The other snakes had no Gryffindor friends, and showing up uninvited was just asking to get punched.
"Don't be nervous," Tom said softly. "Your knowledge is better than anyone else's. Put all of them together and they probably still know less than you. But some people don't care about getting hurt. They won't stop until they're sure their opponent can't fight back. Remember that, okay?"
"And keep an eye on the Durmstrang student."
As he spoke, Tom glanced toward the Slytherin table at a buzz-cut boy. For a third-year, the kid was built like a fifth- or sixth-year.
Lavender Brown, who'd been listening the whole time, asked curiously, "Riddle, is that guy really that strong?"
Tom didn't answer directly. He pointed toward the staff table instead. Many people followed his gesture and froze when they realized he was pointing at Grindelwald. They hurriedly looked away and dropped their gazes.
"Anyone chosen by Grindelwald isn't someone you can afford to underestimate."
That made sense to everyone, and heads nodded all around.
In truth, Tom was practically helping Hermione cheat. In the futures he'd seen through time itself, she usually lost to that boy. It wasn't because she was weaker. It was because he could take an absurd beating and fought like he didn't care whether he lived or died.
Hermione nodded seriously. "I understand, Tom. I'm not nervous at all."
Tom fell silent.
If not for the fact that the small hand clutching his was slick with sweat, he might almost have believed her.
This wouldn't do.
After a moment's thought, Tom resorted to his ultimate move.
"Whoa!" x 99
The Great Hall erupted in a chorus of shocked noises. Everyone saw Tom plant a firm kiss on Hermione's cheek. A bright red mark lingered there, and the young witch immediately buried her face in his chest, too shy to look up. Nervousness forgotten, her heart hammered wildly in her chest.
At the staff table, Dumbledore watched the scene with a gentle smile. His mood lifted noticeably.
This was exactly why he was willing to help Tom.
Gellert Grindelwald had been right about one thing. Dumbledore had neither the right nor the standing to shackle an ambitious soul. He was only a headmaster.
Unless someone was trying to overturn the wizarding world itself or risk exposing it to Muggles, he really shouldn't interfere.
Voldemort back then had crossed that line. Letting him rule the wizarding world would have meant at least half the population dead. The more violently things escalated, the greater the risk of exposure.
But Tom showed no such signs. His ambitions were even larger than Voldemort's. That fool had fixated on Britain alone, while Tom was looking at the world. They weren't even playing the same game.
More importantly, Tom had reason. He had emotions. His ambition was separate from his personal life, and on balance it brought more benefit than harm to the wizarding world. Given that, what reason was there to stop him?
Rather than obstruct him, it was better to guide things along and reduce the bloodshed along the way. That was the right choice.
Grindelwald, who understood Dumbledore better than anyone, could guess exactly what his old friend was thinking. He curled his lips in a smirk.
Just wait. Let's see how much trouble that kid causes you.When the time comes, I don't believe you'll still be smiling.
Setting down his knife and fork, Grindelwald was the first to head for the doors. The Durmstrang teachers and students immediately followed.
As they made their way to the competition grounds, Grindelwald continued pondering how he might slip free of Dumbledore's watch and carve out a full day for himself.
And what exactly did Tom mean by "purification"?
---
Late at night
Ever since building an estate in Dorset, Tom rarely stayed at his London house. Two old geezers lived there now, and the Dorset place was far more spacious and comfortable than anything in the city.
But tonight, to meet a certain guest, he returned to the London house.
At exactly midnight, a silver bell in the room trembled softly. The boy casually pressed a button at his side, and the cast-iron gates slowly swung open.
Following the light, Barty Crouch made his way into the sitting room.
"Good evening, Mr. Riddle."
.
.
.