The Name
"Hey, you! Boy!"
He stopped. Turned. Was the Fool addressing him?
"Yes, you!"
"My name," haughtily, "is Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"Whatever," replied the Idiot. "Don't run."
Tom Marvolo Riddle disdainfully continued – at a more stately pace – along the corridor.
---
"Oi! You! Timmy Marvellous, or whatever your name is!"
Icily, without a backwards glance, "Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"Yeah, right, you dropped your book."
---
"Expelliarmus!"
He watched his wand fly into the air, fortunately too late to prevent the Stinging Hex from hitting the Gryffindor Imbecile before him.
"You!"
He did not turn; did not deign to reply.
"Whatever-Your-Name-Is, detention!"
"Tom Marvolo Riddle."
---
"Oh, look, it's That Boy again!"
"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."
---
"Hey, Whatsit, can I borrow your quill?"
"It's Tom Marvolo Riddle."
---
"Get The-Guy-With-The-Name to pass the salt, would you?"
"It's Tom Marvolo Riddle."
---
"Where's He-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Remembered going?"
"Oh, library, probably."
Was it worth the energy? "It's Tom Marvolo Riddle, actually."
---
"I don't understand..."
"Does You-Know-Who know?"
"What, He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named?"
How many times? "My name is Tom Marv- is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Yeah, whatever."