The last time he had met Nicolas Flamel, Dumbledore had already sensed how fond Nicolas had grown of Tom. True, it had all come out in the form of complaints, saying the brat was too wicked and treated a six-hundred-year-old man like a workhorse.
But that kind of attitude was precisely what it meant to treat Tom as one of his own juniors. Nicolas would absolutely have warned him to be careful recently.
So this performance now was nothing more than playing tricks on fools.
"And what does Minister Fudge mean by this?" Tom asked in confusion.
"Twenty-six Ministries of Magic have already contacted me, hoping to purchase a batch of protective equipment and WhatsApp notebooks from you. Naturally, our own Ministry also needs to make purchases, and we hope our priority can be placed near the front."
"No problem." Tom nodded with a smile. "This weekend, then. I'll go to the Ministry this weekend, and we can discuss it in detail."
"Mr. Riddle, you could release your current stock first. The price is negotiable."
It was only Tuesday, after all. Fudge himself was not really in a hurry. The Ministry still had quite a bit of stock on hand, and with Dumbledore in Britain, the country was unlikely to become the main battlefield. He was mainly here to urge Tom on behalf of the other Ministries.
It was a traditional British specialty. Whether Muggle or wizard, when trouble came, the first instinct was always to let other countries take the front line while Britain sat safely across the channel and played its balance-of-power games on the continent.
"I'll do what I can," Tom agreed, but he gave no exact promise.
The usually silent Scrimgeour suddenly spoke up. "Mr. Riddle, have you never considered hiring employees? If the problem is money or manpower, the Ministry could invest and provide support and assistance."
Dumbledore turned to look at Fudge.
Fudge wore a blank expression and shook his head.
Don't look at me. I didn't know either.
Bones, meanwhile, frowned at once and said bluntly, "Rufus, are you trying to pry into Mr. Riddle's business secrets?"
"Of course not." Scrimgeour denied it immediately. "I only hope Mr. Riddle can expand production while reducing the Ministry's expenditures. It would be a win-win situation."
"A win-win? I'd like that too."
Tom looked at him with an amused smile.
"Mr. Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, correct? Do you understand alchemy?"
Scrimgeour hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "Only roughly. I wouldn't say I understand it."
"I could tell."
Tom nodded cheerfully.
"Only an ignorant fool like you would say something so stupid."
Scrimgeour's face darkened at once. With that mane-like hairstyle of his, he looked like an enraged lion, though somewhat like a sunflower that had crumpled in on itself.
"Riddle, are you insulting me?"
"If telling the truth counts as an insult, then yes, I am insulting you."
Tom pointed toward Fudge and Bones.
"Your Minister and your Department Head are the smart ones. They wouldn't casually speak on subjects they know nothing about."
Then he turned and looked at Dumbledore.
"Professor, if I asked you to do it, could you replicate WhatsApp?"
Dumbledore shook his head slightly.
"Mr. Riddle, while my alchemy is passable, the path I have studied is completely different from yours. Never mind reproducing it, even now, I do not have the faintest lead on many of its mysteries."
"Did you hear that, Mr. Fool?" Tom said. "Find me a few alchemical masters in Britain, or in the whole world, who are stronger than Dumbledore and can work for me. If you can do that, I'll immediately supply the Ministry at cost price and even give you fifty percent of the shares. Can you do it?"
After being torn apart by Tom from start to finish, Scrimgeour's face went through shades of green and white, but he could not find a single word with which to answer back.
Fudge's expression at that moment was extremely peculiar.
Tom's earlier praise had felt wonderful. Watching Scrimgeour get cursed into silence made Fudge want to laugh even more. But of course he could not actually laugh out loud. He could only hold it in while awkwardly trying to smooth things over for Scrimgeour.
"Well... Rufus is only too anxious. He just wants to secure more protection for the Aurors."
"There are still matters to deal with at the Ministry, so we'll be leaving first."
Fudge nodded to Tom and Dumbledore, then left with his people.
Originally, he had wanted to discuss with Dumbledore whether they should make some sort of public statement to calm the people, but under the current circumstances, it was clearly no longer suitable. He could only wait for another opportunity.
Tom also wanted to leave. He had not even eaten breakfast before being summoned here. But Dumbledore kept him behind.
"Mr. Riddle, Grindelwald's escape is extremely dangerous for the magical world. It may even develop into a catastrophe."
"I believe you, Professor." Tom sounded utterly sincere. "You defeated him once before, so this time you certainly can do it again. So... whatever plans you have, just carry them out directly. There's no need to tell me."
Dumbledore's words were pushed right back down his throat. He smiled awkwardly.
"Well, I don't really have much of a plan. I only wanted to remind you to be careful. It would be best if you did not leave Hogwarts during the Christmas holiday. I'm afraid Grindelwald may target you."
"Aunt Tina already warned me in advance," Tom said. "She said I should be careful not only of Grindelwald, but of you as well."
Dumbledore fell silent.
This was bad.
He had discovered that Tom was no longer easy to fool. No, more precisely, he had become harder to fool. Ever since entering school, the boy had already been frighteningly calm and clear-headed.
And after Tina had told him certain things...
Dumbledore's brilliant image as Headmaster had likely been reduced to absolutely nothing.
"Very well..."
Dumbledore let out a sigh.
"Actually, I do need your help..."