Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Neville, Tom Riddle, and others from J.K. Rowling's books. I did however create Desiree, Desmond, Camilla, Gabriel, Gail, Desdemona, and a few other characters that are included in this story.
"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to the Museum of Magic. My name is Desiree LeFieré and I will be filling in as your tour guide today. Do not worry, your intended tour guide was sent to St. Mungos after he accidentally touched a cursed spell book but he is recovering quite well and I was the first person to enter this house and rid it of most of the dangers that were in here from the time of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's residence here. Please come this way. We have a few rules that you need to know about before we can start on our tour. First, do not touch anything unless I say that you can. Many of the artifacts are cursed and could harm you and we are trying to preserve these important historical objects. Second, do not leave the group. This mansion was the house of Tom Riddle Sr., the father of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the rooms and passageways that we are not going into are very dangerous as we have not been able to make those areas safe or remove some of the more difficult spells. Thirdly, I need all of you to sign this waiver." The tall, elegant but foreboding woman reached over with her pale, delicate hands and grabbed a pile of parchment scrolls and quills off of an antique table that was covered in dust and grime. She pulled out a wand made of a dark, exotic wood and swished it through the air. The scrolls and quills flew into the hands of her tour group as she asked for a volunteer to read it aloud. A small dark haired boy quivered with fright as her deep, mesmerizing green eyes passed over him. "How about you, young sir" she spoke in an exquisite yet eerie voice.
Neville, a sixth year student from Hogwarts, trembled as he murmured the contents of the legal waiver to the rest of his classmates.
We, The Museum of Magic, take no responsibility for harm of people or their possessions while inside the Riddle mansion but swear that at least one attendant or tour guide that is magically certified and competent to protect their group, will accompany (name of group). There will be at least one Museum official for every four people.
Sincerely,
Desmond LeFieré
I, (your full name) from (the group you are touring with) , swear that I agree to the terms specified by my tour guide or attendant and those stated above and will follow their instructions about safety and rules in the Museum of Magic at all times.
Neville sighed as he finished reading the contract and cowered over to a group of people. Another sixth year student, patted him on the back as she said, "You read that waiver very well Neville. It was cruel of our tour guide to pick you. She saw that you did not want to be the one to read in front of our whole class." A certain pale, blond boy wearing a black robe with the crest of the House of Slytherin on it interrupted and said, "Awww look Crabbe, Miss Mudblood's stickin up for the nerd with the crazy parents. I think it must be love." Draco Malfoy, the cruel, blond, member of Slytherin and his friend, the less-than-smart, Crabbe laughed pointedly at Neville and Hermione as they walked over to their tour guide. A tall, green-eyed boy with unruly jet black hair and an odd lightning shaped scar on his forehead and a tall red-haired and freckled boy restrained Neville from trying to punch Draco and Crabbe as Hermione tried to calm him down, "I know that I say this a lot but it's not worth it to try and get back at them. We're surrounded by teachers and museum workers and we've been waiting for the chance to see the museum ever since it opened. Anyways, they know that we hate them." Neville shook off Harry and Ron—his restraints as he huffed, "I know, I just hate it when he insults my parents. I mean it was his father's group who hurt them." Hermione comforted him and said, "I know Neville. They're jerks."
"We are ready to enter the Museum. Everyone quiet," Desiree's sickeningly sweet voice cut in on their conversation. Everyone in the room jumped with fright (that is except for Desiree because she was the kind of person who's demeanor was always calm) as a giant oak door groaned open at the other end of the foyer and a small house elf squeaked, "Madam, the house is ready."
