The next day, Tom went through his normal routine of magically dusting and readying the store. He was, however, interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Muttering several choice curses under his breath that turned the cash register a rather gaudy chartreuse, he left his work to meet the visitor.

Along the way, he went through the steps to assume the persona of an average store clerk. Softer steps, more slumped posture, and a more open expression. Body language always spoke louder than words, and a kind face was one not to be questioned.

There was yet another ministry official at the entrance; a tall, lanky man wearing grunt level colors. He was holding the same letter as the wizard from the day before, except this one had the red tinge of something recently affected by a remembrance charm.

He quickly covered up his annoyance- the ministry was famous for retaliating with those who didn't cooperate, and he didn't need an investigation. Goodness knew that his record wasn't as spotless as it looked.

"Mister Riddle?"

"Yes. If you're looking to buy something, the store isn't open until ten thirty."

"Strictly ministry business. You were supposed to have received a notice from us last night."

"Oh?"

"Yes, from one-" he stopped to read a piece of paper in his fist- "Harold Knottingway."

"Didn't have anyone by last night. I closed up shop early, got a drink from the Leaky Cauldron, and went to bed. Maybe he came after I left."

There, perfectly seamless story, and a 'witness' to boot. Jared knows the drill well enough, and nobody doubts the night shift bar tender. The man can be handy sometimes.

"Actually, I think he got the wrong address- somebody found him sleeping like a log over under Rupert's apothecary. Man has a bit of trouble with addresses- tried to get a hold of Leo to tell him what Lucius had done to some muggle girl's hair and ended up clear over at the Zabinis'!"

"Ah, then that was probably the case. I must ready the shop, so if you'll excuse me-"

"Hold on, Mr. Riddle."

Drat. "Yes?"

"I'm hear to tell you about a new law of the ministry's. Have you heard anything of a marriage law?"

"A few rumors, but nothing beyond town talk."

"There's a new law going out. Any bachelors or bachelorettes under thirty are to marry before the end of the year- it's an effort to get the population back to what it was. I'm required to ask if you have anybody in mind."

"Not as of current."

"Then take this." he handed over a half dozen yellow pieces of paper inquiring questions about his likes and dislikes. It looked, for all purposes, like a form for the personals section of the Daily Prophet.

"The ministry has started a blind date program. All of the information is on those pages. We'll need it back by tomorrow or the day after at the latest. Now, I must be off. Good day."

With that, he left.

The minute the man was out of ear distance, Tom dropped the facade and started cursing up a storm. He knew the ministry was full of idiots and brown nosers, but did they honestly expect something like this to work? It was like they were trying to act as ludicrous as possible.

The whole idea sounded like one big doxie shoot. A whole lot of idiots running around like chickens with their heads cut off and trying to do the task at hand. The whole thing almost sounded like something out of a fluff novel.

Yet, none the less, he couldn't chance the ministry figuring out he had anything to hide. One thing would lead to another, and soon enough he'd find himself in a trial or Azkaban. He needed to stay under the radar, and he didn't have near the influence for a cover up (especially not one the size of the chamber of secrets).

No, he'd play their game until he found a loophole or other way out. If necessary, he could move out of England until the law was amended. But he hoped it wouldn't come to that- he needed to keep an eye on his horcruxes, plus he had a well built reputation as a good doer. But if push came to shove, he could gather the horcruxes and start over.

Realizing that this kind of thinking would be aimless until he had more information, he started on the forms. Maybe one of his school cohorts had found a way to weasel out- he'd have to owl them. Perhaps he could even get hold of Cygnus Black- the man had tried to get chummy at Hogwarts, perhaps he still sought friendship.

and so began the carefully laid plans of Tom Riddle Jr.