Chapter 2

You pocket your wand and step out of the shadows, thinking quickly for a reason why you were standing outside of the Riddle house in the middle of the night. Hopefully this guy won't stick around.

"What are you doing boy?" a man with broad shoulders and a mean face asked.

"Um, er, I was just looking to see what the Riddle Mansion looks like," you reply, trying to look confident.

"Everyone in this here town knows the Riddle Mansion, why don't you?"

"I, uh, I've just arrived today," you say.

"Is that right?" The man sneers. "Well, I know who comes and goes in this town and I don't know you."

"I…uh…" you look desperately at the ground, praying that it'll give you the answer you need.

"You staying with someone boy?" the man asks.

"Yes," you say, before realizing what the man will ask next.

"And who is it?" He asks.

You stare at the ground again, wondering if some obscure relative of the Riddles who happen to have the name Riddle was still around.

"Come with me boy," the man says, grabbing your arm roughly and hauling you away. You try to keep from being dragged as the man takes you through town. He walks into a small building. You immediately realize it's the tavern."

"Hey Sheriff!" The man calls, still holding onto you. I found this boy down at the Riddle place, snoopin' around. Says he arrived today and is staying with some friends. Problem is, he don't have no friends here."

"What's your name?" The Sheriff asked, staring at you. You look at the portly man, wondering if you should tell the truth.

"Harry Weasley," you lie.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, why're you wearing them robes?"

You glance down, "Um, to keep me warm, sir."

"Really?" He asks. The Sheriff reaches over and plucks your wand out of your pocket. "And what's this?"
You think quickly, "Just a piece of wood sir. My father was going to carve it into a flute before he died."

"A flute, eh?" The Sheriff takes a closer look. "This is too small for a flute. I don't like you boy, and you've been lying to us. I think I'll just keep this "flute" of yours and lock you up for a few days. Let you think about telling the truth." The Sherriff take you by the collar and escorts you to the one jail cell the city has. Day after day passes and the Sherriff refuses to let you out. Without your wand you're helpless, and no one knows where you are. All that's left for you to do is sit and ponder that stupid letter.

The End