Chapter 6
For the next two days Harry was busy at home. He helped Vincent pack, he made sure lunch and dinner was on the table, he kept Evelyn generously supplied with plenty of strong cups of tea and he made sure that the house was clean so Evelyn didn't have to worry about anything and could mentally prepare to send off her son to war in peace.
Martin owned an amazing car. Well, to Harry it looked absolutely amazing, like one of those rare classical 1930s cars you rarely saw. It was a 1938 Austin 7, which didn't mean much to Harry, who knew nothing about cars. Still, Harry admired the automobile as Martin drove it carefully out of the garage. Petrol was heavily restricted and reserved mostly for the armed forces, hence why Martin rarely drove his car those days. But as a doctor he did receive a small amount of petrol that he decided to put to good use to drive his family to the train station in Exeter to see his son off.
Harry enjoyed the trip in the car, which didn't go very fast at all and which didn't seem to have any kind of wheel suspension, which made for a very bumpy ride. But Harry didn't mind as he stared out the window and enjoyed the passing landscape. There were hardly any other cars on the road, so they made good time.
The train platform was filled with newly drafted soldiers and their worried families, all trying to keep it together desperately, because, after all, they were British and didn't do public displays of emotions.
Harry hugged his brother because he was genuinely worried for the guy and because Vincent looked like he needed a hug, his face pale with anxiety. "I'll write," Harry told him, before stepping back to let Evelyn and Martin say goodbye.
The ride back was a lot quieter and a lot tenser, with Martin staring at the road in complete determination while Evelyn discreetly dabbed at her eyes with a small handkerchief. Once they got back, Harry excused himself because his parents looked like they needed some quiet time to process their son joining the war effort. Just as Harry stepped outside to apparate to Murder Cottage, a large owl swooped down and dropped a letter on his head.
Harry caught it before it hit the floor and gave the owl a bright smile before apparating to his safe house.
It was a letter from Fleamont Potter, who seemed delighted a long, lost family member had made themselves known. Fleamont was also very curious about the ancestor potion Harry had found, and made it known he and his wife, and his younger brother Charlus and his wife, would be happy to meet with Harry and his family.
Harry couldn't stop grinning as he put the letter down. It would probably be easiest if the Potters came to visit the Hubbles in their home, which meant Harry had to inform his parents about what he'd been up to. Well, he'd wait a day or two, but perhaps a visit from some distant magical family would provide a welcome distraction to his parents.
Since Harry couldn't yet share his good news with his family, he decided to share it with the only other person who was in the know and he filled up his thermos with tea and quickly apparated to Diagon Alley. A brief stop at the bakery yielded him some custard cakes topped with fresh strawberries, and from there it took Harry less than five minutes to make it to the bookstore.
Except the moment he pushed open the door, Harry realized Riddle wasn't alone in the store. Theodorus Nott and Orion Black stood leaning against the counter, clearly there to visit with their friend. Harry slowly stepped inside the store, face still hidden by his hood. Riddle recognized him, of course, but didn't seem to know how to react exactly, now that two of his pureblood friends were there. For a moment it looked like he was going to smile in Harry's direction before he ducked his head and frowned down at the counter.
It was that slightly anxious look on Riddle's face that made Harry decide to reveal himself.
Fuck all those pureblood supremacists.
Harry threw his hood back and marched up to the counter as though it was the most normal thing in the world. "Mr Riddle," Harry said with a cheerful smile. Then he schooled his face into a slightly colder expression and nodded at the two other young men. "Mr Nott, Mr Black." Giving those two no time to respond, Harry plucked the letter out of his pocket and waved it in front of Riddle's face. "I've got good news!"
Riddle finally allowed himself to smile. "Ms Hubble." Riddle reached into his own pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. "So do I."
Harry couldn't help himself and he released a bout of joyous laughter. He was so incredibly happy that the Scamanders seemed to welcome the idea of a long lost family member, at the very least.
Nott cleared his throat rather obnoxiously, and when Harry turned to them, Nott and Black were looking at him as though they were watching Harry perform a rare Celtic fertility dance completely in the nude. Harry quickly bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh in their faces at seeing them in such obvious shock. Harry didn't like them, but he also wasn't dumb enough to purposefully provoke them. At least at that time.
"Aren't you that Ravenclaw mudblood Mulciber added to his collection?" Orion Black asked, one eyebrow quirked as he looked Harry up and down.
Harry squared his shoulders and gave Black his best authoritarian look, one he'd perfected once he'd joined the Aurors. "I know a curse that will make your dick fall off, permanently. So by all means, keep talking."
Black blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing until he gave Harry a wide grin that made him looking so much like Harry's godfather it made Harry's chest ache. "Right. A little mudblood like you knows a curse like that." Black's voice was dripping with disbelief.
"Not a mudblood," Harry said with a tilt of his head while he gave Black his sweetest smile. "I'm a squib descendant. One of my ancestors was a Dark Lord, so yeah, I'm well versed in curses that turn you dickless." Harry quickly glanced at Riddle and gave him a cheeky wink.
Riddle couldn't seem to help himself as he threw back his head and laughed, which did things to Harry's belly for some weird reason.
"You are related to a Dark Lord?" Nott demanded, nose wrinkled in clear disdain.
"Arvid Feborg." Harry gestured at Riddle. "Ask him."
"It's true," Riddle said with a pointed nod. "She's also related to the Potters. You'll remember Charlus Potter, who works as an Auror, of course."
Oh, nice little threat right there. Harry stared at Riddle in admiration. Here Harry was, gently poking all sorts of metaphorical sticks at these two pureblood supremacists, and Riddle made sure they knew Harry had family in high places, just in case they wanted to put Harry in his place through more violent means than some verbal sparring. Harry's regard for Riddle rose a few notches right there and then.
Nott didn't reply to Riddle but kept staring at Harry, his lips pursed tightly. "So this is the mudblood that's been filling your head with such nonsense."
Riddle gave Nott a very unimpressed look. "Ms Hubble was kind enough to share her discovery with me, and to test my blood to reveal my magical ancestors, as I showed you."
Harry didn't want to give those two dickheads any chance to further escalate things, so he simply turned his back to them, utterly dismissing them. It was very rude to do so, of course, but Harry couldn't care less. He wasn't worried about being cursed in the back, either, since he was wearing his protective jewellery and every article of clothing he was wearing was treated with shield charms.
"I brought us some cake to celebrate," Harry said, giving Riddle a warm smile while he pulled out his thermos and unwrapped the custard cakes. "It's not every day one finds new family."
"Indeed," Riddle said, giving his two classmates a careless shrug while accepting a cup of tea from Harry. "Thank you."
"We can tell we're not welcome here," Nott said with a sneer, pushing himself away from the counter.
"Just be careful who you choose as your friends, Riddle," Black added, narrowing his eyes while giving Riddle a glare as he followed Nott out of the store.
Once the bell over the door stopped jingling, Harry looked at Riddle with wide eyes. "I'm sorry if I caused you any problems by being here."
Riddle quickly waved him off. "My classmates are unfortunately raised to believe that muggleborns and squibs hold no value whatsoever. The idea of magical children being born out of squib descendants is difficult for them to accept."
"That's a very polite way of saying your friends are pureblood supremacists," Harry said with a daring grin.
Riddle nodded, unable to hold back a smile.
"Will they cause you trouble at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, realizing that Riddle still had to share a dorm with them for the next three years.
"Don't worry about that," Riddle said with a shake of his head and a little wrinkle of his nose. "I can handle them."
Of that Harry had no doubt. He pushed one of the cakes towards Riddle while he took a big bite out of his own slice. They enjoyed their treats in silence and it wasn't until Harry sipped his tea that Riddle spoke again.
"What did the Potters say?"
Harry pulled his letter out again and held it out to Riddle. "You can read it." In exchange, Riddle gave Harry his letter from the Scamanders.
Newt had replied to Riddle with mild enthusiasm and a genuine interest to get to know him. He invited Riddle to have dinner with him and his wife Porpentina, and his older brother Theseus in his London home in two days. Theseus was also an Auror apparently, which would work in Riddle's favour if those pureblood friends of his tried anything serious against him in retaliation.
"Are you going to meet with them?" Riddle asked, folding up Harry's letter and handing it back.
"Yes, I'll invite them over for lunch at our home, so they can also meet my parents. My dad is related to them as well, obviously." Harry frowned for a moment, unsure if he should open up to Riddle. Then again, who else did he have to talk to about anything, really? "I'll wait a few days to tell my parents, though. My brother's been drafted for the service. We've taken him to the train station just this morning."
"That must be difficult for you all," Riddle murmured, ducking his head a little, as if unsure how else to react.
"Yeah," Harry said, briefly looking away. "But meeting some new distant family members will probably be a welcome distraction for them, so I won't wait too long."
Riddle remained silent for a few moments and then said carefully, "What Black said about Mulciber…"
Harry glared at Riddle and held up his hand at once. "Stop talking."
Riddle snapped his mouth shut and stared at Harry with wide eyes.
"All I'm going to say is that I have plans for Mulciber, and you'd best not get in my way," Harry said through gritted teeth. He liked Riddle nowadays, he really did, but Harry was going to take down Mulciber no matter what, Riddle be damned.
Riddle looked down, and gave a few slow nods. "Have at him. He's an insufferable fool anyway."
Well, what did you know. Baby Dark Lords could change after all. It was so fascinating to see Riddle slowly but surely start walking a different path, especially because Riddle himself had no idea what he was missing out on.
"The Potters have a potions business," Riddle pointed out, obviously trying to change the subject. "So they might be able to market that ancestor potion again, so more muggleborns can trace their squib linage."
Harry blinked and then gave Riddle a bright smile. "I hadn't even thought about that. I was just happy to meet a potioneer, since I want to start my own potions business once I'm out of Hogwarts."
Riddle quirked one eyebrow and leaned his hip against the counter as he stared at Harry. "Really? Do you just want to produce potions, or actually create them?"
"Both," Harry said, refusing to feel any guilt for his plans to pass future potions off as his own creations. "I've got some ideas already for a few potions, but I don't have the means to work on them just yet."
"Fleamont Potter can definitely help you with that," Riddle said with a chuckle, his eyes warm as he smiled down at Harry.
"Do you have any career in mind yet?" Harry asked, because he was genuinely curious about the answer.
Riddle shrugged and stared off in the distance for a few moments. "I'm not sure. I love magic. Creating it and experimenting with it, and learning every last thing one can do with it. I'm not sure there's a magical career like that."
Harry picked up his teacup and toasted Riddle. "My aunt works for the Department of Mysteries. That's exactly the kind of work she does, just experimenting with magic all day long."
"Really?" Riddle looked at Harry with renewed interest. "How does one apply to that department?"
"I'll write my aunt, tell her about you, see if she can't put in a good word for you in a few years." Harry was amazed to see the sheer gratitude shining in Riddle's eyes. Once again Harry reminded himself that this Riddle was just a 15-year-old kid who barely knew himself or understood the world around him. Gently steer him away from some pitfalls, give him some gentle guidance, and already Riddle seemed to be heading in a whole new direction.
Oh, Harry made himself no illusions Riddle was suddenly a saint or something like that. But Riddle didn't have to be a saint. He just had to not be a murderous Dark Lord, Harry would gladly settle for that.
Harry finished his tea and started putting his things away. "I've got to get back. I've got to cook dinner for my family."
Riddle gave an unexpected bark of laughter. "Now I get it." When Harry stared at him in confusion, Riddle added, "You can use magic since you've gotten rid of the trace, so you're learning to cook with magic. Hence why you bought those silly books the first time you came here."
"Hey, do not insult Mrs Ashford!" Harry raised a finger at Riddle in warning, and he was only half-joking. "That woman stands up there with Merlin himself when it comes to attributions made to the wizarding world."
"I'll take your word for it," Riddle said with a fond little smile, eyes narrowed in obvious amusement.
"I'll be back in a few days, so we can exchange gossip about our new magical families," Harry said, swinging his bag over his shoulder.
"I'll look forward to your return," Riddle replied softly, and Harry gave him a final wave before leaving the store.
Harry had no detailed comparison of how Riddle had treated his friends and had been treated by them throughout his entire Hogwarts career, but it seemed that Riddle wasn't quite as eager just yet to go along with their pureblood ideals, and perhaps he never had until he created his first horcrux and slowly turned himself insane over the years.
It had never made sense to Harry, how an obviously intelligent young man like Riddle had ever truly believed that pureblood wizards were better than the rest, when Riddle himself was a half-blood yet he had more power than most of his Slytherin classmates combined.
Well, Harry supposed he would find out soon enough how Riddle was going to position himself in the world with regards to pureblood supremacy, now that the basilisk was gone and Riddle probably wouldn't stumble across information about horcruxes anytime soon. Whatever happened, it was bound to be interesting.
Harry waited two days before he decided to tell his parents about the Potters. He brought his family tree and Fleamont's letter with him to the sitting room after dinner and showed them to his parents while he explained his theory about muggleborns.
"It does make sense," Evelyn mused while Martin read through Fleamont's letter with a small frown. "Carole is also a witch. It would be a huge coincidence for two muggleborn magicals to be born in one family by sheer chance."
Martin looked up at Harry with doubt clearly written across his face. "And these Potters…what sort of people are they?"
"They're well-regarded, decent people. Fleamont invents potions for a living, and Charlus is an Auror, which is like a police officer." Harry gave his father an encouraging smile. "The Potters are your ancestors, too."
"I'm still not sure how that is possible," Martin said, now gazing at the family tree in slight bewilderment.
"Squibs join the muggle world and don't tell anyone they are slightly magical, obviously," Harry patiently explained. "The magic remains dormant in their lines, sometimes for many generations, until two squib descendants have a child together and there's then a chance for that child to be magical."
Martin nodded thoughtfully. "It remains a strange idea," he finally said and then offered his daughter a kind smile. "But I suppose we can meet with these Potters."
"How about I invite them for lunch?" Harry suggested. She could easily make a tasty lunch with the limited choices of food they had.
"You could cook up one of the younger cockerels," Evelyn suggested as she finished reading through Fleamont's letter.
"Sure," Harry said, who had never slaughtered an animal in his life. Not counting the basilisk, but that was nothing like butchering a chicken.
Their chickens had procreated in the spring, as they did every year. The Governor was an eager lover, apparently, and had produced lots of offspring with his ladies. Harry selected the meanest of the young cockerels, and then put it out of his misery with a quick bludgeoning hex. Thankfully, Mrs Ashford had a whole chapter on how to prepare a chicken from scratch, including charms to pluck and gut the bird, and Harry put those to good use. Then he boiled the carcass to make chicken soup full of onion and carrots, which would be the starter, and then he used the meat and some of the stock to create a nice chicken pie with onions, mushrooms and leeks all covered by some flaky pastry for the main course.
For dessert Harry put together a simple strawberry fool. It wasn't an elaborate meal, perhaps, but for war standards with its food restrictions, it was a variable feast.
Fleamont had replied to Harry's letter at once to tell him they would gladly accept the invitation, and two days later Harry stood waiting a little anxiously, dressed in Harriet's finest summer dress. By now Harry was used to wearing skirts and dresses, though putting a bra on correctly every morning was still quite the ordeal.
Fleamont and Euphemia, and Charlus and Dorea, arrived right on time, apparating to the coordinates Harry had given them, right outside the Hubbles' home. Harry opened the door for them while Evelyn and Martin were standing right behind him.
"Ah, there are our long lost cousins," Fleamont exclaimed, hands raised in a gesture of welcome. He looked so much like James that it took Harry's breath away for a second. The hair, the nose, the general shape of his face. There was no doubt this was Harry Potter's ancestor.
Euphemia offered Evelyn a bottle of elf-made wine. "Thank you so much for inviting us into your home." Evelyn accepted the gift with a grateful smile.
Charlus Potter lacked some of the obvious mischievous nature one could see shining in Fleamont's eyes and he appeared to be a little more serious. Dorea was clearly a Black in appearance, with her hooded, stormy grey eyes, but she was very polite and seemed genuinely interested to meet some new extended family.
After some general small-talk, about the nature of all of their families, Fleamont turned towards Harry and gave him an expectant look. "So, this potion you discovered…"
Harry grinned at him and picked up the book and pieces of parchment from where he'd put them on a nearby dresser. "I found it utterly by chance in a second-hand book shop," Harry said while handing over the book to Fleamont and the family tree to Euphemia. Before long everyone was busy taking in all this new information.
"Thestral blood and hair?" Fleamont said in surprise while he read through the potion's ingredients. "Where you even able to buy those things in an apothecary."
Harry chuckled and shook his head. "No, they obviously thought me very strange for even asking. I just snuck into Hogwarts and got some from the herd there."
Evelyn pointedly cleared her throat and when Harry looked up at her, she gave harry a wide-eyed yet demanding look.
Well, crap. Harry always forgot he was a 15-year-old girl, and not a grown-ass man who could do what he wanted.
Thankfully, Fleamont gave a full belly laugh and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "You wouldn't be related to the Potters, girl, if you hadn't snuck in and out of Hogwarts at least once."
Cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being so stupid to mention all this in front of his parents, Harry gave Fleamont an utterly grateful smile. Evelyn didn't seem entirely convinced by that reaction, but seemed at least willing to let the matter rest for now. Harry pointedly continued his conversation with Fleamont.
"I was just looking for interesting potions books, when I came across this one. And I've always suspected that there's more to muggleborns than simply a chance appearance of magic in muggle children. I mean, my aunt is also a witch, so that would be a very big coincidence." Harry was pleased to see he had the attention of all witches and wizards in the room. "I'm convinced that all muggleborns are squib descendants."
"Have you tested it on someone else?" Fleamont asked eagerly.
"One classmate. He's an orphan, so he had no idea where he came from." Harry wasn't going to reveal all of Riddle's private business, but he didn't think mentioning a few things could hurt. "Turns out he had a magical, or at least a squib, mother, but on his muggle father's side there was also a squib some generations back."
"Fascinating," Dorea said as she took the book from Fleamont to page through it herself.
"I plan to offer the potion to more muggleborns at Hogwarts this schoolyear," Harry continued, very happy to see that his distant relatives seemed onboard with his theories so far. "But I am not yet sure how to offer it to muggleborns already out of Hogwarts. I imagine plenty of them would like to know any possibly magical ancestry as well."
"There's no exclusivity rights on the potion anymore," Euphemia said with a shrewd look. "We could easily produce it and market it. You'll get a share, of course, Harriet, since you rediscovered it." Euphemia then looked at Fleamont and patted his chest to get his attention. "You can take Harriet and do a little interview with Ruby Baird at the Daily Prophet. That should get the word out well enough."
"Long lost family is the kind of story they'd eat up over there," Dorea agreed with a nod.
Harry was interested to see that apparently Euphemia was the one running the business, and that Fleamont mainly focused on the potions themselves. Still, he wasn't sure how he felt about getting the kind of exposure that came with having his name in the paper. Then again, Harry was determined to prove muggleborns were squib descendants and thus change society's perception of them for good, and maybe sacrificing a tiny bit of anonymity was worth that much.
Ducking his head, Harry shrugged, playing up Harriet's natural shyness a bit, which wasn't unexpected in a 15-year-old girl.
"We'll make sure it's a positive story," Euphemia said while giving Harry a reassuring smile. "Nothing to worry about."
"All right," Harry said eventually with a shrug, as though none of that interested him much at all, again playing up his perceived age.
Later, when they were sitting at the dining table, enjoying their lunch, Fleamont turned to Harry. "So you like potions, if you're going looking for rare potion books in your spare time."
Harry gave a bit of a shy nod. "I hope to create my own potions business after Hogwarts."
Fleamont said up at once, looking at Harry with renewed interest. "Really? You want to become a Potions Master?"
"Hopefully," Harry said, putting down his spoon for a moment to focus on the conversation instead of his chicken soup. "I have some ideas for some new potions. One is a blood replenishing potion, but I haven't completely worked it out yet."
Fleamont sat back in his chair and looked at Harry with obvious pride. "I'll gladly take you on as an apprentice once you finish Hogwarts, dear girl. I'll teach you everything I know."
Harry stared at Fleamont with wide eyes. That was a very generous offer, because lots of Potions Masters couldn't be bothered training apprentices, or if they did, they charged their apprentices exorbitant amounts of gold for the honour of working for them. So to have a successful Potions Master like Fleamont Potter offer to take Harry on was a very real honour. "Thank you," Harry said with genuine gratitude. "I'd love to become your apprentice." Not just for the chance to become a Potions Master, but this way Harry could also get to know his old grandfather and grandmother, which he looked forward to as well.
The rest of the visit went very well. Dorea worked as a healer, and she and Martin spent lots of time talking about their professions, and Evelyn and Euphemia got along very well, since they had the same kind of head for administration and business.
Right before they left the Potters extended a firm invitation for the Hubbles to visit them in a few weeks. Charlus was licensed to make portkeys, so he would send them one to make sure the whole family would be able to travel to Potter Mansion without any trouble.
"They were very nice people," Evelyn said when she and Harry started on the pile of dishes. "But don't think I've forgotten about you sneaking in and out of your school, Harriet."
Harry quickly ducked his head and vigorously washed some plates while he received a lecture from his mother. As punishment Harry was charged with looking after the vegetable garden, which was still somewhat neglected, and which Harry had already planned to do anyway, so he accepted his punishment gracefully but without any real remorse.
As Harry lay in bed that evening, he was practically glowing with happiness. Yes, he still missed his friends something awful, but he was exceptionally happy that his new life was really starting to take shape. Getting a potions apprenticeship meant that Harry had a very real career waiting for him once he finished Hogwarts, and it would also help him to truly understand the process of creating potions from scratch. So much so, that perhaps Harry would be able to actually create some of his own potions instead of simply passing future inventions off as his own.
Somewhere in the great beyond, Severus Snape was surely frothing at the mouth in sheer disbelief that Harry Potter would ever dare to become a Potions Master in his own right.
Anyway, Harry felt good about himself and the world, and he couldn't wait to share this with Riddle the next day. He was also very curious to see how things had gone between Riddle and the Scamanders.
Harry brought along his thermos of tea again, and picked up some malt cake from the bakery, since Riddle had seemingly enjoyed that one before, and then he made his way to the bookstore with a spring in his step.
Except when Harry pushed open the door, there was no Tom Riddle waiting for him behind the counter. An older lady sat there, face buried in the Daily Prophet. Did Riddle perhaps have a day off? That was entirely possible. If that was the case, perhaps Harry could visit him in the orphanage, to share their family news.
Harry approached the counter and offered the lady a polite smile. "Hello, I'm looking for Tom Riddle. Is he not working today?"
The lady looked at Harry as though she'd just ruined her entire day. "Your name?"
"Er…Harriet Hubble," Harry said, unsure why that woman needed to know that.
Without further comment, the woman reached under the counter and pulled out an envelope. "That useless boy left this for you."
"Thank you," Harry said in mild confusion, accepting the letter. He quickly left the store and apparated back to Murder Cottage at once. There he sat down at the table and opened the letter, a strange, nervous coil growing in his stomach.
Dear Ms Hubble,
I am sorry to say that we won't be able to continue our meetings for the rest of the summer, no matter how much they brightened my otherwise gloomy days.
My dinner with the Scamanders was a pleasant affair, and I believe I made a positive enough impression on them that they seemed eager to add me to their extended family. My distant cousin Newt and his wife Porpentina invited me to come along on an expedition to West-Africa, which I eagerly accepted, as I'm sure you can understand.
The choice between spending the rest of the summer in a musty Knockturn Alley bookstore and a muggle orphanage in war-torn London, or travelling to exotic far-off places wasn't a very difficult one to make, no matter that it meant we would have to forgo our meetings.
I want to extend my genuine gratitude towards you, Harriet Hubble. In a short period of time you have done more for me than anyone else has ever done, and I won't ever forget that.
Hopefully we will be able to talk again on September 1st, since we are scheduled to return to Britain the day before. Until that time, I ask for your permission to continue our conversations through a written correspondence.
Sincerely,
Tom Riddle
By the time Harry finished reading the letter, there were a few tears streaming down his cheeks and he had no idea why. Stupid hormones. Harry wiped them away with a rough gesture while he sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.
Harry was so fucking proud of Tom Riddle that his chest felt like it was about to burst under all this sudden warm pressure. And he was so, so genuinely happy that Riddle wouldn't have to spend the rest of the summer in that fucking orphanage. Newt would probably be a great influence on Tom, because while Newt was mildly mannered and soft-spoken, he also possessed a spine of steel and more courage than most Gryffindors put together. If anyone could gently handle a potential Dark Lord and steer him towards a different future, it was Newt.
Still, Harry also felt an inexplicable sadness, because he had come to enjoy and look forward to his meetings with Riddle. But Riddle asked to correspond, and Harry would gladly give him permission for that.
As Harry poured himself a cup of tea from his thermos and bit into a slice of malt cake, he realized that Riddle was potentially going to run into some dangerous situations. You never knew what sort of shady people or dangerous critters they might encounter. Perhaps Harry could give him a little farewell gift, to ensure Riddle wouldn't get in trouble if he needed to use magic.
Harry immediately brewed a dose of aging potion and wrote Riddle a quick letter.
Dear Mr Riddle,
I am so, so happy for you, that your meeting with the Scamanders went so well, and that you'll be travelling with them for the rest of the summer. I must admit, I am also a bit envious, because I wouldn't mind getting out of Devon for a few weeks.
I did get some very good news myself during the Potters' visit. They were a very kind and decent bunch, and Fleamont Potter was generous enough to offer me a potions apprenticeship for when I finish Hogwarts, which I naturally accepted at once!
The Potters also decided to market the ancestor potion, and they're even arranging for an interview with Fleamont Potter and myself in the Daily Prophet, so we can tell our story. I must admit, I'm not sure I'm thrilled with that kind of publicity on a personal level, but I am happy that this way more muggleborns will be able to discover their magical ancestry.
You have my wholehearted permission to correspond with me, because I will also genuinely miss our spontaneous meetings for the rest of the summer.
As a farewell gift I've included something that will break the trace and will allow you to use magic for the rest of the summer without worry. I'm sure you're clever enough to figure out what it is.
Yours sincerely,
Harriet Hubble
Harry put the letter in an envelope, added the vial of aging potion, and then sent Holly off to deliver the letter. Hopefully Riddle wasn't yet in West-Africa, or else Holly had quite the journey to make. Either way, Harry looked forward to receiving a reply from his new friend.