𝕬 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓 | 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 |

Chapter 59- The Dame and Her Trinkets

Tom somehow let two years past him by without doing much of anything. Two years seemed like it should've been enough. It was certainly more than enough time to make a decision about what he really wanted. It might've even been enough time to have become truly immortal, considering Tom's extraordinary skills. Unfortunately, there sat Tom, on a dusty stool at the cashier desk of Borgin and Burkes, completely unchanged two years later. He was casually flipping through The Secret of the Darkest Art, checking to see if there was something he might've missed about Horcruxes. Sometimes he still got unwanted visits from the pieces of his soul and no amount of books he could scavenge about Horcruxes seemed to be able to tell him why. It was not like the information within the pages fascinated him as much as it had those many years ago when Frankie had first discovered the copy at school. Now, it was basically just memorizing the techniques and saving them away for future reference when he eventually got out of Borgin and Burkes. If he ever got out of there.

His main motive for being employed at this shop was to find something rare enough to make a Horcrux, but in the two years he'd been there, he had found nothing that "intrigued" him. While they hosted a variety of different dark oddities, none of the items were anything special compared to Ravenclaw's Diadem or Gaunt's ring. The next Horcrux had to be like them. Historical, one-of-a-kind, significant. Those were the types of items that should've been protecting his soul. Sure, some of the things brought into the shop were extremely rare, but not items anyone would kill to get their hands on. He wanted something to die for.

"Are you reading that damn book again?" a voice asked, unknowingly breaking Tom from his deep mental thoughts. He looked up from the book slowly to find one of his bosses glaring down at him. Mr. Burke was busy getting on his jacket and trying to stop his greasy black hair from getting into his eyes as he struggled to force his other arm into the sleeve, when he'd noticed Tom reading. The dubious shop that Tom had been employed at for the past couple of years was run by Mr. Borgin and Mr. Burke, if the name didn't give one an obvious clue. However, apart from Tom, only ever Burke was around to handle the daily operations in Knockturn Alley. Borgin practically never came back in whenever he went out. Even Tom had only seen him a few times over the time he had worked here. He usually sniggered at Tom's common name and said his face was too pretty for the Dark Arts, which Tom was still deciphering whether or not that was meant to be a true insult.

"Yes, sir." Tom answered, obediently. He'd learned by now that talking back was the wrong idea in a place like this. Mr. Burke was far more dangerous of a man then he could have thought. Over the years, Tom had nothing much to do but observe his only constant semi-human interaction. Burke was not a teacher, but a collector. A man driven by greed. When someone came in with something extremely peculiar that Mr. Burke really wanted, Tom saw it in his eyes. There was this mad look that threatened all who got caught in its beam of selfishness and desire. Tom had only been able to see it because, in the past, he had gotten the exact same look. He knew it well.

"Good—glad you're still educating yourself in the dark ways, might come in handy someday..." he answered. Surprisingly, he didn't shout and swipe the book from Tom's hand this time. He usually hated Tom reading at his desk when he was supposed to be there 'working'. Perhaps, he was just into much of a rush to care, which meant whatever he was going out for must've been something good. He started for the door immediately, stomping away from Tom and swinging open the tinkling doorbell. "Man the shop. I'm going out for a bit."

A few long minutes went by where all that could be heard was the dull ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner, which never seemed to get sold for some odd reason. Then, suddenly, the bell on the door chimed with the first customer of the day. A young woman walked in who was around Tom's age, like most girls who wandered in here. He sighed. How bothersome and typical. He'd been lounging at the Leaky Cauldron one night and heard a rumor had been going around about a certain sales clerk in Knockturn Alley. Apparently, he was so handsome it was worth the possible deadly curse. So, here she was. Very clearly and intentionally 'lost'. She was looking around for a few seconds at the creepy skulls and eyes in bottles before turning her attention to him. "Hello."