After all, he wasn't actually a secretary, and dealing with the "tigress at home" was already a struggle, he had no patience or energy for that. Yet Tom's words, combined with Umbridge's earlier abysmal performance, stirred a strong wave of aversion in Fudge.
And as Tom had said… if his secretary were a golden-haired beauty with flowing waves, even doing nothing would lift his spirits and improve his public image.
But Fudge wasn't foolish enough to admit, in front of so many people, that he disliked Umbridge. He forced a smile. "Talent selection in the Ministry is based on ability. Appearance… doesn't matter, not at all.
"Nevertheless, Mr. Riddle, I will consider your suggestion. Next time, we can discuss it further. Albus, we must take our leave now and have tea another day."
He nodded politely to Dumbledore and departed with his entourage.
Tom glanced at the clock on the wall. With only a bit of morning classes left, he decided to stay in Dumbledore's office.
"Headmaster, you'll definitely cast a favorable vote in the Order of Merlin, won't you?" Tom asked eagerly, seated opposite Dumbledore, nibbling on the small cakes on the table.
With Dumbledore's influence and position, any organization he joined wielded significant power. One supportive vote from him could sway countless others.
"Last time, Minerva helped you with the application, and you refused," Dumbledore remarked, surprised. "Why are you so eager this time?"
Tom shrugged nonchalantly. "How's it the same? Before, it was an uncertain second- or third-class medal, on the level of Lockhart. This time, it's a First-Class Order, on par with you.
"I told you before: except for a First-Class Order, I have no interest in anything else."
Dumbledore was speechless.
He had a gut feeling: the commotion with the Basilisk might have been orchestrated by Tom, all to push for the First-Class Order. Otherwise, why not deal with it directly in the Chamber of Secrets, instead of making a spectacle?
But it was only a hunch. Even so, Tom killing the Basilisk was fact. Finding the Slytherin legacy and teaching it, and even letting Voldemort suffer a major setback, these were all facts. Dumbledore could find no grounds to oppose him.
"You seem quite flattered," Dumbledore teased. "So your interest is because I hold a First-Class Order?"
"Of course," Tom said, waving his hand. "Heroes of the world, just the Headmaster and Tom Riddle."
"Much obliged for the recognition," Dumbledore replied warmly. "I naturally won't vote against my student. But even with my support, your age is the greatest obstacle."
The boy's smile was radiant. "No problem, I have other connections."
…
In the Potions classroom, Snape was dumbfounded upon hearing Tom's request.
"Riddle, I haven't even received a Merlin Order myself, and you want me to lobby on your behalf?"
Tom waved dismissively. "It's not that you don't want it, you just, like me, disdain second- and third-class awards. I refuse to believe that after so many years as Slytherin Head and a nationally renowned Potions master, you have no valuable connections.
"Professor, this was a condition you promised me. Are you reneging?"
Snape's teeth gritted, body leaning forward as he glared at Tom. "This is what you called 'a small matter'?"
"Is it really that big?" Tom tilted his head in genuine curiosity.
"Do you realize how many favors I'll owe to lobby for you?" Snape scoffed. "I know several old masters, all crafty, shrewd foxes. They won't budge without adequate compensation."
"I'll give you satisfactory compensation, Professor," Tom said.
"Just that batch of materials?"
"No, also my future support," Tom smiled, pointing to himself. "The gratitude of the future strongest in the magical world, doesn't that count as valuable?"
Snape's eyes deepened as he studied the boy. After a long silence, his hoarse voice finally came.
"Such arrogance… fine, consider it an investment."
Tom, satisfied with the answer, left, heading toward McGonagall's office.
On the fifth floor, he saw a red-haired girl emerging, a playful grin on her face.
"Ah!" Ginny gasped, launching herself into the air, only to be gently set down in an empty classroom.
Upon seeing Tom, she lunged at him, attempting to bite, but Tom deftly dodged.
"You little monster! You nearly scared me to death!"
Tom smirked, using his arm to pin her head gently. "Miss Weasley, your courage isn't so small, you were trained directly by Voldemort himself."
"Lies! He hardly taught me any spells!" Ginny protested. "All he did was sweet talk. Every Riddle's the same."
"I think you've learned enough," Tom said, giving her a light tap on the head, making her cry out in pain.
"Ow! You brute!"
"And the Marauder's Map? Why haven't I received it yet?"
Ginny had no choice but to blush awkwardly.
"Give me more time. Don't be so impatient," she said, already guessing why Tom was so irritable today. She had been trying to distract him with jokes, but it hadn't worked.
The new month had begun, and with it came two clarifications: first, this story would not cross into other worlds, the previous book did that, but this one stays in the current world. Second, the third teacher would appear later; the author has two potential plans but hasn't decided which to use yet, thinking through it carefully before making a choice.