"Ah. Mr. Riddle. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Faolan Johnson said sounding tired as he opened his door. He was a tall slender man, quite reminiscent of a living skeleton.
Dressed neatly in a dress shirt and trousers, he had a thin gaunt face with visible cheekbones, small bead like eyes, and a thin mouth that barely left its indifferent position. His gray hair was also pristinely cut and combed, kept short and professional, no doubt by magic.
He was a cold rational person, perfect for a mortician. He didn't understand humour, save for the occasional sarcastic remark. And he was an ex Death Eater, having avoided Voldemort's summons two years ago, and in hiding when we had set up our little...arrangement.
I didn't sell him out to Voldemort, and he hid any traces on my victims that could be followed back to me. But given I'd already created a horcrux that was not much use to me. So instead I used him for financial benefits. He was the last surviving member of a moderately wealthy family, and with no children and no way to spend all his money in his lifetime, it worked out perfectly.
"Not going to invite me in Faolan? After I've been locked away?" I asked him standing outside his house.
"Very well (Y/n)." He said stepping aside, closing the door behind me swiftly.
I'd been in his house serval times before, it was simply decorated, although like most houses of wizards it was slightly off. Such as the television, which was facing the wrong way round with a thick layer of dust covering it, or the windowsills that often had owl dropping on them, along with the occasional feather.
"How's the job going? The dead staying dead?" I asked him.
"Of course they are, most people don't get up once they're dead." He replied, and while we'd been in correspondence for a while he was still stiff. I assumed he wasn't used to interacting with the living.
"Oh lighten up Faolan it was a joke." I said sitting in his kitchen.
"Ah yes. Humour. Very funny (Y/n). A cup of tea?"
"Yeah alright. Oh and Faolan, you're almost two months behind, don't think I forgot just because I was in Azkaban." I told him coldly.
"I had not forgotten (Y/n)." Faolan said setting a small pouch of gold onto the table. "As if I could forget your blackmailing."
"It's not blackmailing Faolan, I just need a little extra money. You do want out of the Death Eaters don't you? You don't want my dear old dad finding out you've been hiding here?" I asked him taking the gold pouch from the table. "And to be fair it's not like I'm bleeding you dry."
"It is the most...reasonable case of blackmailing I've heard of, yes."
"Well then." I said as Faolan set a cup of tea in front of me. "Let's get down to business shall we?"
"Yes." Faolan said. "I've set up a meeting with my...acquaintance, the one I've written about."
"And he's heading here now?"
"Yes."
"Still no other takers?"
"Given I work in a muggle community I don't spend much time socializing with other wizards."
"You don't spend much time socializing with living people."
"Yes...more humour. There also have not been many unusual deaths, nearby at least, nothing to suggest any wizards or witches to join us."
"I see."
"There is a reason I chose this town (Y/n), not much happens here."
"So what use are you to me?"
YOU ARE READING
The Weasley of Slytherin: The Half Blood Prince
Fanfiction(Y/n) Riddle has spent almost two months in Azkaban, feeling more and more distract, devoid of almost all interacts expect for the occasional visit. His only hope is his upcoming trial, but who knows how that will end.
