#the runemaster

The answer to Harry’s question was around him. Both of the Gryffindors had stuck together, and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stood on their own. Harry and Riddle were the only Slytherins, and he found that rather odd.

He wondered if he should say something. It felt like the right moment, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Riddle lingered in his peripheral, his face a mask of satisfied indifference, the kind the guy opposite you would wear when you were about to lose to him in poker. Harry searched for something appropriate to say, but before he could speak, the classroom door opened.

I hope this letter finds you well and that your first week at Hogwarts has been both equally fun and productive. I’m writing to introduce myself as your Ministry-assigned guardian and invite you to attend a one-on-one meeting with me on Thursday, 25th September, at quarter to twelve in the fourth-floor classroom – the one next to the painting of the chimpanzees.

No need to worry, as it will be very informal, and a chance for us to get better acquainted. This will be the best opportunity for me to answer any questions you may have, whether that is about your education, your career plans, or your living circumstances for the summer. I will be the school’s first point of contact if you are ever involved in an emergency or if they wish to discuss any poor behaviour.

If you wish to contact me beforehand, whether to reschedule our meeting or for anything else you may need, please find the address for my office at the bottom of this letter. I kindly ask that you send any letters via owl post.

I’m thoroughly looking forward to meeting you.

Yours sincerely,

Marina Elizabeth-Jayne Bones

Sanctuary for Underage Wizards Office

Excerpt

Harry left with a lot on his mind. His mess was far from over, but it felt like he was finally making some headway.

He turned the corner and slammed into someone. His bag slipped off his shoulder, and all his books, parchment, quills, and ink bottles slid across the floor.

‘Sorry,’ he said on reflex, crouching to grab his stuff.

‘No, my fault.’

Harry’s blood ran cold, and his scar flared. He kept his eyes down as he scooped his books back into his bag. He discreetly flattened his hair over his scar. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Riddle crouch and help.

‘It’s alright,’ said Harry, hoping to stop him.

Riddle ignored his words, and Harry tried not to rush too much. You’re nobody; you’re one of many, thought Harry, the words a circling mantra.

He shoved the last book into his bag and looked around for the rest. His eyes settled on the last few that Riddle held out. Before Harry could take them, Riddle changed his mind and disregarded his hand. He shoved them into his bag and zipped it up for him. Harry tried not to wince. Bit much.

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’ They stood up. ‘How has your first week at Hogwarts been?’

‘Great, thank you.’ Harry adjusted his bag strap.

Riddle’s voice was smooth, and he spoke softly. He was probably smiling too, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to look further than the top of his tie. Neville once said that avoiding people’s eyes made you less memorable. Harry didn’t know if that was true, but it was worth a shot.

‘If you need anything, you can come to me.’

He spoke benevolently to Harry like he was a disoriented first-year. And not for the first time, Harry wondered how Voldemort was so beloved by professors and students. He was older than him; it was beyond insulting.

‘Thank you.’ It was all he could squeeze out. He felt like a broken record.

‘I’m sorry to hear about your cat.’

That cat. That damn cat.

‘He was old but thank you.’

Harry’s dead responses got the desired effect. He glanced up. There was nothing beyond the disarming smile on Riddle’s face. He had seen that smile before in the diary, and did it always look that manufactured? It was so infectious in his second year. Perspective did wonders.

Harry hated how he was still being spoken to like a first-year. He gripped the edges of his book. ‘Fine, thank you.’

‘Have these lot been treating you well?’ He nodded to the others. The tenseness in the room was so viscous it was like they were all trapped in a jar of molasses.

‘They have.’

‘Man of few words, aren’t you?’

Oh, Harry had plenty of words. It was just that the rest of them were too colourful in their crudity to ever be spoken aloud, no matter how much he wished he could let them out of his mind.