Chapter 2

"Who are you?" the young man asked them.

"Could ask you the same," Harry retorted.

The young man frowned. "Indeed, you could. However," he casually dropped his hands into his trouser pockets, "given the fact that you have inexplicably fallen into my employer's storeroom, and the fact that you appear to be in a rather precarious situation, it would behoove you to realize that you are in no position to be making demands on my identity."

Hermione was finding this difficult to understand. Obviously Harry wasn't pleased to see this person, which meant that he knew who it was, but she was at a loss. What on earth could have him on edge this badly? He'd only ever been this tense around the Horcruxes, and that, she surmised, was because they'd been carrying around a piece of Voldemort's sou–

She stopped mid-thought, realizing, and part of her stomach churned. "I'm Hermione – " Harry squeezed her arm, and she paused, looking up at him.

"Hermione – " he said warningly.

She put her hand over his. "Trust me on this?" she implored.

Harry looked like he wanted to do a lot of things that didn't involve trusting Hermione's safety to a young Lord Voldemort – if he called himself that now – but he nodded once. "If you say so."

Hermione looked back at Voldemort, praying that the little Occlumency she knew was working at full capacity. "I'm Hermione Granger, this," she gestured to Harry, "is Pip Wilde , this," Neville, "is Chandler Bing, and that," Cormac, "is Palmer McLaggen."

Voldemort – Tom Riddle – whatever he called himself, he looked pleased. "There, now. Was that so hard?"

Hermione could hear Harry's teeth grinding. 'You really have no idea, do you?' She patted his hand. "You'll have to forgive Pip; he's quite protective."

Voldemort's eyes glinted. "Yes, I daresay he is." There was a silence, and then he shrugged. "Fair is fair, I suppose." He held out his hand to Hermione. "I'm Tom."

Hermione hesitated, and Harry's hand tightened around her arm. Against her better judgement, Hermione raised her hand and clasped Voldemort's. "Does Tom have a surname?"

His smile was completely disarming. "Riddle."

"Well, I must apologize for our causing such trouble while you were at work, Mr. Riddle," said Hermione. "We didn't anticipate – well, this." Neville and Cormac seemed to have been struck dumb. Neville, she didn't mind so much, but Hermione couldn't help but thank whatever deity was listening that Cormac was witless at this moment.

Voldemort effortlessly pulled Hermione to her feet. "What did you anticipate?"

"A harder landing, and not to survive," she said.

"Playing with magic, then?" he asked.

"Not us, no," said Hermione.

"We were attacked," Harry added, his voice still wooden.

"Attacked?" echoed Voldemort. "Oh dear, how dreadful. By whom?"

Hermione cut in before Harry could answer. "We're not sure. A friend of ours was in terrible danger, and we followed his trail, but – well, someone had other ideas, and here we are."

If she hadn't already known he was a raging, murderous psychopath, Hermione might be fooled by the look of concern. "How very intriguing. And you've no idea who took him? Your friend?"

"None at all."

"Terrible business," Voldemort said. "Just terrible."

"Agreed," Harry muttered.

"We are terribly sorry about your storeroom," Hermione said.

"I'm sure my employer will understand," Voldemort placated. "These things happen, and we don't always have as much control of a situation as we would like, wizards though we are."

"You're awfully understanding," said Harry stiffly.

Voldemort appeared to be slightly confused. "How d'you mean?"

"Well, if a group of strangers had suddenly fallen out of nowhere into my boss's storeroom, I'd be pretty pissed off about it," he said. "Whatever damage we did in here could cost you a good percent of your wage."

Voldemort sighed. "I suppose you have a point. However, nothing appears to have really been damaged at all, more luckily for you, I think than our customers. There are shields and wards put in place for – unforeseeable events. Case in point, your sudden fall." He stepped into the storeroom and looked around. "No, I think the only things to really suffer damage would be the roof, the floor, and perhaps the four of you; the former are easily mended, as you'll know." He smiled at Hermione again. "Nothing to worry about on that score, I'm sure."

"Thank you for that consideration," said Hermione, seeing a way out of the storeroom, and grasping readily at it. "We'll just be on our way, then. So sorry to have caused you trouble. Uh – " Hermione turned and glanced at the broken floorboards, waving her wand in a complex series of movements, and watching as the debris all flew back into its original place. "I suppose that's the least we can do, considering we're responsible."

Voldemort seemed amused. "You're very kind. Do you perhaps require assistance to St. Mungo's for your injuries?"

"No!" said Harry quickly.

Hermione shot him a look. "No, thank you," she said pointedly, and then turned back to Voldemort. "I think we can manage. We've likely got you into enough trouble as it is. When your employer finds out what happened in here –"

"Nonsense," Voldemort interrupted smoothly. "He will be pleased none of his products were damaged. Are you sure you wouldn't like any help to a hospital?"

"Indeed," said Harry.

Hermione took a breath. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mr. Riddle. Really, though, we'll be fine."

Voldemort bowed. "If you insist."

"We really do."

"Pip!"

Harry looked chastised, and then stuck out his hand. "Thanks for your consideration."

Voldemort shook it gingerly, as though worried that with too much movement Harry might explode into a flaming banshee. "Any time, I assure you."

There was some scraping and awkward shifting, but soon enough Neville and Cormac had made their way past Voldemort and were following Harry and Hermione out onto Knockturn Alley. They had scarcely gone fifty yards when a shoppe's bell tinkled behind them. Hermione turned under the premise of looking up and down the street for a way out. A young man, platinum blonde and looking uncannily like Draco Malfoy was standing next to the door of Borgin and Burke's smoking a cigarette, looking about rather lazily.

"Harry," said Hermione softly. "Harry, I think Voldemort's sent someone to keep an eye on us."