Thankfully, that particular old man genuinely seemed uninterested in power for its own sake. In all these years, he'd never once overreached, and had cooperated with Fudge smoothly enough, the two of them repeatedly presenting a picture of solid friendship and good rapport in public.
Still, Fudge kept his guard up. What he wanted was never peaceful coexistence. What he wanted was to be the only one permitted to weave a web of his own.
And now, with the old threat still unresolved, a new one had appeared out of nowhere.
The younger one lacked the old man's deep-rooted influence and towering reputation, sure, but he was formidable regardless, and considerably more aggressive besides, his naked ambition already laid bare on the table, beginning to encroach on Fudge's own territory.
The timing of it all felt unbearably precise. Give it another ten years, even six or seven, let this boy rise closer to the end of Fudge's own term, and he wouldn't feel nearly this threatened. If anything, he'd have used what power remained in his hands to negotiate some kind of exchange before his authority expired anyway.
But not now. Right now, the wizarding world could only afford to hear one voice, and that voice belonged to Cornelius Fudge alone.
Listening to Fudge tear into Tom and the Guild as though the boy had committed some unforgivable crime, everyone else in the room turned the matter over in their own minds, each landing somewhere different.
Bones's expression shifted slightly. Fudge harboring this much resentment toward Tom was, without question, troubling news.
One could question Fudge's judgment all day long, but never underestimate the sheer authority a sitting Minister actually commanded.
Crouch, meanwhile, seemed entirely elsewhere, so distracted he barely registered what point Fudge was even trying to make. His mind kept circling back to a rumor that Grindelwald would be visiting Hogwarts soon, wondering whether he ought to use the occasion to arrange a meeting.
In the months since his escape, Grindelwald had thoroughly demonstrated a charisma and strength that surpassed even the Dark Lord of old, and Barty Crouch had grown quietly convinced the man could somehow set his own son right again.
Scrimgeour and Umbridge, for their part, both wore looks of firm agreement.
Umbridge went without saying. Even if Fudge declared that a pile of dung tasted faintly of matcha, she'd sing its praises at full volume, and personally sample it besides, if the occasion called for it.
As for Scrimgeour, he and Fudge were fundamentally cut from the same cloth, both men holding an outsized reverence for power. In the original course of events, the very first thing he'd done upon taking office was try to court Harry to his side, pulling him away from Dumbledore's influence.
The only real difference between them was that Scrimgeour still held onto some scrap of personal integrity, capable of enduring torture without giving up a single secret, dying with his convictions intact.
"Minister, I share your concerns entirely." Scrimgeour was the first to chime in. "I've spent the past several days looking into the Wizard's Guild myself, and I've found its trading model is bound to breed further corruption and gray-market activity. The Ministry ought to hold proper regulatory authority over it."
Fudge nodded, thoroughly satisfied, looking at Scrimgeour with more warmth than he ever had before today.
"What about you, Barty?" His gaze swung toward Crouch next.
"Ah? Oh, apologies, I was just reviewing the relevant statutes in my head." Barty Crouch answered vaguely. "I currently oversee International Cooperation, so on this particular matter, I'd defer to Director Bones's judgment."
Fudge's brow creased slightly, though he nodded regardless.
That left the full weight of the room settling on Bones. Everyone present knew perfectly well how close her relationship with the Greengrass family, and with Tom himself, actually ran.
Even under that pressure, Bones spoke up in Tom's defense. "Minister, I understand your concerns, but as things currently stand, the Guild hasn't broken a single law. As for the gray areas you're describing, I'd say Knockturn Alley presents a far more obvious example of exactly that."
"Bones, this is hardly the moment to let personal loyalties cloud your judgment," Fudge said, displeased.
"I won't deny my personal regard for Mr. Riddle." Bones drew a steadying breath. "But have you considered the consequences of acting rashly here? You're well aware of Mr. Riddle's temperament. Beyond that, the Wizard's Guild currently serves as a buffer in our communications with Grindelwald's side."
"If we move against it recklessly now, I fear it could trigger significant repercussions on the international stage. Are we truly prepared to bear that cost?"
That gave Fudge genuine pause, and the meeting ultimately dissolved without any real resolution, though that hardly meant he intended to let the matter drop.
Once the meeting broke up, Bones let out a tired sigh, and upon returning home, sent Tom a message to give him fair warning.
She understood the Guild's emergence carried both risks and benefits, but for now, at least, the benefits still outweighed the risks, and so her support remained firm.
There simply wasn't much to be done about a Minister this paranoid, and this greedy on top of it.
But the message she sent went unanswered for a long while. Bones glanced at the darkening sky, assumed Tom had already turned in for the night, and let the matter rest without further worry.
In truth, that wasn't remotely the case.
...
Back in the study space, Tom sat there smiling at the braided village girl in front of him.
"Joan, were you planning on saying your prayers tonight?"
The girl nodded, obedient as ever.
The young man's voice took on a coaxing warmth, the tone of a wolf gently luring a rabbit closer. "I think you could stand to be a little more devout. Come here, pray in my arms instead. You'll find yourself that much closer to God..."