Work Text:
There was no way to keep a secret around the usual crowd of the Continental Hotels. Not when it was a regular part of any ordinary job to scoop them out.
But there was also no way, one of them would want to earn the ire of Tom Riddle - the most dangerous concierge of all Continental Hotels, usually to be found in the London branch.
It wasn’t talked about, but he used to be known as Lord Voldemort - flight-of-death. One of the big names, right up with legends like John Baba Yaga Wick himself. One of the greatest assassins ever known… right until the day he suddenly disappeared and re-emerged a few years later as a concierge.
Of course, no one dared to look into it. Everyone knew what happened to people that tried to cozy up to him.
Everyone remembered Bellatrix LeStrange.
That was: People that weren’t Harry Potter, the Master of Death. Beloved by many, feared by all.
There was no way to keep a secret around the usual crowd of the Continental Hotels.
So while nobody talked about it - no one dared so much as even look at them - everyone knew that Lord Voldemort might fly before Death but he never flew before it’s Master - he searched him out.