The Forbidden Ship

Wand

If she hadn't been paying attention, Hermione would've missed his move altogether. Everyone else in Madam Puddifoot's establishment seemed to. They were all going about their business as if the charming and famous Tom Riddle hadn't just cursed a school boy in plain sight. Nobody acknowledged that a thin, green wire stitched Cormac's lips together before vanishing from sight. The boy's eyes were wild and panicky, yet he didn't move an inch. He just sat there. 

"Manners, boy," Minister Riddle said smoothly.

His hand came to rest on the small of her back as he guided her onward. His wand never seemed to have been drawn. Confused, she looked up. The corner of his mouth twitched, and there was a twinkling in those dark eyes of his.

"It'll wear off," he said amusedly, "if you're concerned about that insipid twat?"

"No, I-" She shook her head. "Why did no one notice? And where's your wand? How do you draw so fast? What if someone saw? You're Tom Riddle, the Minister for Magic; you can't curse a student. What if he tells?"

More and more questions rattled from her lips as she was sat on the chair, her cake and tea landing in front of her.

Hermione blinked, shaking her head again to clear away that odd, stuffy feeling inside her mind. Across from her, Tom Riddle lithely slid into his seat, twirling his wand between his long, slender fingers.

Hermione swallowed. How on earth could someone draw their wand that inconspicuously? One second, his hand was empty, and the next, it was not. 

"Which one of these millions of questions do you want me to answer first, Miss Granger?" Riddle asked with a humorous lilt to his voice, but before she could open her mouth to ask how he knew her name, he added, "Beware, for every question you ask, you'll answer one of mine truthfully in return."