The next day, Tom showed up in Dalaran as promised.
When word got out that he'd be attending the opening ceremony, Fudge and the Ministry's top officials rushed over in person.
Plenty of people from other countries had sent representatives too, so the place was packed and buzzing.
A lot of them were seeing Dalaran City for the first time. They'd just stepped out of the public Floo, and the inner city's architecture and its dazzling magical scenery knocked them flat.
To them, this was more than just one of Tom's businesses. It looked like another possible future for the wizarding world.
Wizards with a city of their own felt like the start of a new era.
Tom had been buried in magic research lately, and honestly, he couldn't be bothered with these people anymore.
A bunch of politicians wearing wizard robes was bad enough. Worse, they were the dumbest kind, short-sighted with no long-term plan whatsoever.
Nothing unexpected had happened these past few days, and a lot of newspapers were already deliberately playing down what went down in New York. They figured it would blow over like it always did. Keep your head down, tuck your tail, and time will smooth everything out.
As for Voldemort, he was just another dark wizard, right? Whatever they'd always done to handle dark wizards, they'd do the same to him.
Dumb. There was no other word for it.
These people would've been fine as ordinary citizens, but as leaders, they gave Tom no hope for the magical world's future.
So he said a few brief words, wrapped up the ribbon cutting, and handed the whole crowd off to Ikaros and Crouch Sr. to deal with.
He took only Fudge inside.
And Fudge... he was here to beg for help today.
"Mr. Riddle, the Ministry is badly understaffed. The Accidental Magic Reversal Department and the Obliviators have been on the clock for three straight days. Everyone's running on potions and sheer willpower, and we're still getting overwhelmed by incidents."
"Once Muggles get on their guard, they start noticing all kinds of things they never would have before."
Fudge's round face was creased with worry. These past few days had shown him how great a Minister's power could be. One word from him and countless wizards had to jump. And it wasn't just Ministry staff. Even the wizards taking commissions through Astra Abyssum answered to him now.
He had far more power than he'd ever had before.
But he was exhausted. He didn't feel like the Minister for Magic at all. He felt like a babysitter for every wizard in Britain, stuck cleaning up one ridiculous mess after another.
And it was a thankless job. Complaint letters and Howlers flew into the Ministry like snowflakes every day. He'd had to hire two people just to destroy them, unread.
So today he'd come to Tom for help.
Either Tom came up with a way to fix the current mess, or the Astra Abyssum Guild lowered its commission rates on tasks.
The Ministry was burning through money lately. Hiring outside help cost Galleons, and top-tier Obliviators weren't exactly thick on the ground in Britain, so the Ministry had to offer sky-high prices to compete with other countries for them.
The Ministry's reserve funds had been bled dry. More and more often, they were paying their debts in finished potions, rare magical materials, and even magical creatures.
Fudge had also tried to get a few pureblood families to donate and ease the financial crisis.
But no luck. Those fortunes weren't blown in by the wind. They were built up over generations.
The money they already gave the Ministry every year was plenty to maintain their standing. Why throw away more for nothing?
Tom sat there, listening to Fudge whine and ramble.
Only after Fudge had talked himself dry and downed the lemon tea on the table in one gulp did Tom look up.
"Minister Fudge, you know Astra Abyssum takes a cut of the commissions as a handling fee, but that money is nothing. Pocket change.
"I started Astra Abyssum because it interested me, not to make money. I don't care about money."
Fudge fought down the urge to roll his eyes so hard they'd fall out of his head.
Of course you don't. You already made all the money there is to make in every other industry.
First the Codex, then the Gringotts gold cards, then all those magical accessories, and now the advanced Lume-Lens, plus the whole media industry that grew up around it.
Which one of those wasn't an absolute monopoly?
The craziest part was that he'd conjured every one of those industries out of thin air. The magical world looked like it hadn't changed much these past few years, but it had quietly reshaped how wizards lived.
Take the old days. A wizard could get by on ten Galleons a month. Now there were social needs, communication costs, and all the advertising and marketing that came with the Lume-Lens. Before anyone noticed, an adult wizard's cost of living had gone up nearly fifty percent.
But Tom was playing the part, and Fudge didn't have the standing to flip the table. All he could do was keep following the script.
"Mr. Riddle, I know you don't care about money, but most wizards are ordinary folks. They can't get by without gold and resources." Fudge put on his most sincere face. "The Ministry understands that, but we just don't have the funds to hire more memory specialists, and we can't scrape together enough people either."
As he said this, Fudge sneaked a glance at Tom.
He knew Tom wasn't short on money or on hands. If Tom said the word, the Astra Abyssum Guild could send over a whole batch of people at any time. Even if they weren't real people, even puppets like Katherine that could cast simple spells would take a lot of the pressure off.
The hard part was getting the boy to open his mouth.
Tom stroked his chin. "Honestly, Confundus and Memory Charms aren't that hard. The real reason we're short on talent in this area is the questionable quality of teaching at Hogwarts."
It took everything Fudge had to keep his smile from climbing off his face.
He wanted to record that line and play it for Dumbledore, just to let him hear what the best student in Hogwarts thought of how he ran the school.
"Mr. Riddle makes a good point, but that's slow water for a fire that's burning right now. Plenty of recent Hogwarts graduates joined the Ministry and are already in special training, but getting them fully up to speed won't happen overnight."
Tom made a show of looking troubled and tapped his forehead. "No money, but you want people, and elite people at that. My dear Cornelius, you're putting me in a tough spot."
Fudge laughed along. "Mr. Riddle, you're joking. It might be a tough one for the Ministry, but I'm sure you can find a way to help us out, can't you?"
Tom responded to flattery, not force, and Fudge had figured that out by now. So these days, every word he said to Tom was a mix of buttering up and coaxing.
And honestly? Watching the blockhead from the original story turn this slippery in front of him gave Tom a real sense of accomplishment.
So seeing Fudge being so well-behaved, Tom was in a rare generous mood and offered him a suggestion.
"You don't have to rely on Astra Abyssum for everything, you know. There are a lot of wizards in this world. Not an endless supply, but not a small number either, and people who fit your requirements are a dime a dozen. The only question is whether you dare to use them."
"Who?" Fudge still hadn't caught on.
Tom pointed east.
"Berlin. The Acolytes."
"If you're willing to work with Grindelwald, you might be able to get a batch of capable assistants out of it."
Fudge's face changed completely.
.
.
.