— — — — — —
If you really traced the blame all the way back, it still circled around to Tom in the end.
The Ministry only had so much money each year. But now that they were trying to block him from selling anything to Grindelwald, the British Ministry — along with a few others — had squeezed their budgets dry. When you're desperate for funds, you sell anything that isn't nailed down.
"Wolf? Why'd you give me that nickname?" Newt asked, puzzled.
"Cold, rational, always settles a score. If you're not a little scary, how's anyone supposed to take you seriously?" Tom replied without thinking.
Newt gave a helpless smile. "It's really not a big problem. The Ministry never said they wouldn't pay me. There are just two herbs I urgently need."
"You can't let them get away with it." Tom sighed. Why was Newt so absurdly good-tempered?
If someone dared owe Tom money, they'd be in a worse state than Graves by now.
"I'll mention it to my future mother-in-law later," Tom said, setting a candlestick on the table and rotating it until it looked right. "What ingredients are you still missing?"
Newt listed a few, and Tom realized he had all of them in his private stash.
Not because he'd collected them himself, but because Daphne had.
In her endless attempts to lure Fawkes over to her side, she bought all kinds of rare and bizarre herbs. But Fawkes always ate the offering and flew off without even looking at her. After a while the little witch lost interest, and the remaining herbs ended up in Tom's storeroom.
Newt didn't stand on ceremony either. He just said he'd pay Tom back once the Ministry released his salary.
...
Half an hour later, dinner was ready. Everyone took their seats. Daphne had a little Loban curled up in her arms. The smile on her face hadn't faded all evening, since it was her first time spending Christmas at Tom's home.
"Tom, you're the host. Say a few words," Nicolas reminded him.
Tom scratched his cheek awkwardly. "We're all family here. Do we really need to make this formal?"
"Of course we do," Lady Greengrass cut in with a smile. "We're not asking for a Ministry speech. Just share your hopes for the coming year. No dodging."
"Alright, alright."
Tom stood with a glass of orange juice, meeting everyone's eyes one by one. "For the new year, health and safety come first. I hope everyone stays well and stays safe."
"As for expectations… I hope to make more progress in alchemy. And maybe earn a bit more money while I'm at it. How's that?"
"That sounds lovely," Lady Greengrass said warmly.
Nicolas frowned. "When did you become so obsessed with money?"
Tom shrugged. "I'm not interested in money. I just enjoy earning it."
Perenelle shot Nicolas a glare. "Let the boy have a hobby. Weren't you the one who used to enjoy watching cows and horses mate…"
Nicolas practically shot out of his chair, lunging to cover her mouth, but he was far too slow. She finished the sentence long before his hand got there.
Everyone froze for a second, then burst into laughter. Only the two girls tried to laugh politely, cheeks bright red.
"Teacher, I didn't expect you to have that kind of… pastime," Tom teased. He finally caught a piece of Nicolas's blackmail material.
The atmosphere warmed instantly. Most of the conversation turned into the women sharing funny stories, Newt and Nicolas's embarrassing moments, and things the sisters did as children.
Tom was the safest one at the table; nobody could expose his black history. Perks of being an orphan.
He even opened a window into his study space so Grindelwald could take a look at some familiar faces. Unfortunately, the old man only watched for a few minutes, cursed Nicolas for three seconds, Newt for ten, then logged off. He had a lot on his plate, including "brainwashing" the new Acolytes.
No, no — that was instilling ideals, recruiting like-minded companions. And if they weren't like-minded… well, you made them like-minded.
Ariana watched the scene the whole time, quiet and wide-eyed, a trace of envy flickering through her gaze. She wanted to join in the warmth too.
...
Throughout the entire dinner, Tom and Nicolas never mentioned what had happened in North America. Clearly Newt and Tina still hadn't heard. Otherwise they wouldn't be this calm.
There was a good chance some of the dead Aurors — maybe even some members of the Graves family — were Tina's friends or students. But Tom still wouldn't hold back. There were too many tangled relationships in the magical world. If he cared about everyone's feelings, he wouldn't be able to offend anyone at all.
...
After dinner, snow began to fall over the courtyard, perfectly on cue. Everyone lit the patio fireplace, set out rocking chairs, and relaxed as they waited for Christmas to arrive.
Nicolas casually mentioned he was planning to move here, which left Newt baffled. "Nicolas, weren't you just saying you weren't going to move?"
The old man pointed behind him helplessly. "Tom has already started creating alchemical life. How am I supposed to stay in Paris after that? Being closer makes everything easier. And if I go back to Paris, it'll just be me doing research alone."
"Help me find a piece of land. I want the house built before the month's over."
"Leave it to me. Tom already picked his plot. It's on the mountaintop next to mine. The slope a bit lower down isn't bad either."
Whatever the case, Nicolas moving over was great news.
---
After midnight, Astoria couldn't keep her eyes open. Tom carefully carried her back to her room.
Daphne immediately pretended to be asleep when she saw him coming. Tom could see clearly she was peeking at him through her hair, but he pretended not to notice and carried her off anyway. The adults all exchanged amused smiles.
The night passed quietly.
When Tom opened his eyes the next morning, he saw an enormous pile of presents stacked so high they formed a wall between his bed and the door. This was exactly the kind of sight that improved one's mood.
Even if many gifts weren't worth much, unwrapping them was pure stress relief. And when someone else handled the cleanup afterward? Even better.
...
From seven thirty all the way to nine, Tom had been tearing open packages. Astoria eventually joined in to help. The two of them finished sorting everything before eleven.
Daphne had originally wanted to help, but Astoria kicked her out because she thought her sister's clumsy hands and loud fussing only made things worse.
...
By the afternoon, everyone had set up a grill in the courtyard for a Christmas barbecue. On Christmas Day nobody really went out, and most shops were closed anyway. The day after was when the shopping frenzy began.
Tom was still wondering why North America hadn't responded yet. It had been days and they hadn't come after him. All they'd done was send a complaint to Dumbledore.
But it wasn't because anyone was shielding him, but because… well, the Ministry was also on holiday.
Expecting most wizards to work overtime was impossible. Only a handful of overly responsible Ministry staff stayed on duty.
The North American Ministry actually did send an official notice. But the on-duty clerk of Britain took one look at the MACUSA seal, ignored it, and tossed it into the non-urgent pile to be dealt with after the holiday.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore's lobbying was taking effect.
He insisted Tom had only fought back defensively. The initial casualties were caused by internal Graves misfires, and shouldn't be blamed on Tom. If they hadn't used lethal curses, the tragedy wouldn't have escalated.
With Dumbledore's name attached, as long as he spoke seriously, even if he said black was white, plenty of people would start doubting themselves, wondering if they'd been Confunded.
MACUSA President Samuel G. Quahog was shocked and furious. He hadn't expected Dumbledore to throw away fairness and simply overpower them.
Fed up, he stopped trying to hide the scandal and leaked it directly. The next day, the New York Ghost ran a front-page story on the current state of the Graves family—unable to go home, unable to step outside, with a pig flap and two signs on their doorstep photographed as the main cover image.
The news spread across other continents at once. For the first time, the name Tom Riddle appeared in the public eye labeled as Dark Lord, dangerous sorcerer, wielder of black magic.
The reputation was terrible, yet it let the world know exactly what he'd accomplished. His infamy had begun.
Even Britain's Daily Prophet joined in. Tom's Codex nearly exploded with classmates asking if the news was true, and how it felt to take on an entire family alone.
Tina, after seeing the articles, came to ask him everything directly.
When she finished listening, she fell silent for a long time, then let out a soft, exhausted sigh. "Everything's changed. Everything." She left looking drained.
Greed and provocation always came with a price. Tina understood that. Unfortunately, many others didn't, or they believed they could handle the consequences.
...
The last days of the year were filled with shouting and arguments. And the one who added the most fuel to the fire was Grindelwald, who passed a message through the German Minister of Magic.
"Tom Riddle? He blocked my magic and saved Hogwarts Castle. And people are shocked he crushed a handful of American bumpkins?"
"Well... leaving someone like him at Hogwarts is a waste. How about becoming my student instead?"
Dumbledore's beard practically curled in rage. You want to steal my student?
I'm the headmaster. What are you?
Grindelwald's invitation sent the frenzy to a whole new level. Many European ministries shifted from indifference to urgency, hoping MACUSA would settle down and stop pushing Tom toward Grindelwald's side.
One Dark Lord was bad enough. They didn't need a Dark Lord in training on top of that. At that point the wizarding world might as well pack it in.
On New Year's Day, 1994, Madam Bones, acting as a mediator, arrived at the Riddle manor…
.
.
.