Silly boy

Chapter 2: Toms' shampoo brand

"I'll do what I want," you mutter decisively as he turns his back and walks down to the chamber door.

You follow behind him, and after a few whispers of parcel tongue, silver plated snakes on the entrance began to come alive and slither, clicking the door open for you to enter.

As you. walk forward, you could clearly see a young girl far on the ground, lifeless appearing and covered in blood.

You burst out laughing.

"Is she dead or something? That's too precious," you say, crouching down to inspect the paleness of her cold face.

"Well she is a lot more useful dead, that's for certain. God, listening to her beg for her life would have been exhausting," he groaned, retrieving a small black notebook from behind one of the serpent statues.

He walks next to you, casually flipping through the pages.

"So this is why we came down here...for an empty diary," you fold your arms over.

"It's why I'm down here...I'm still unsure as to why you followed, perhaps just to irritate me...besides," his face slipped into a serious disposition.

"This won't be just an ordinary diary anymore," his smiled tweaked with excitement.

"I'm superrrr excited you are taking up journalism, but please just get to the point."

"I would if you could just be quiet, you really need to learn to shut up sometimes. Speaking of the fact, if you go running your mouth to anyone about what I'm going to show you, I'll impale your aorta with a fork."

"Tom, I'm not an idiot, have a little face...and think realistically too, have I ever broken a promise, or passed any form of gossip?"

"I suppose you haven't been much of a spreader of secrets," he lightly pressed his lips together, almost like a misdemeanour of a smile.

"Careful Tom, you sound like you thoroughly trust me," you mock.

"Don't get your pathetic hopes up."

"I have no hope for you riddle, I have better things to do...like give this ugly muggle a little makeover," you laugh in a sing-song voice, and sit on the ground beside her, grabbing her locks of tawny raven black hair, and begin to braid it while humming yourself to work.

"Ugh, stop humming...and stop touching her, you freak!" he shouts over the brim of his journal.

"Why? Would you prefer that I braid your hair?" you smirked, reaching out to him with grabby fingers.

"If you lay a single finger on me you are as good as dead."

"Aww, you sound stressed...do you want a scalp massage?" you pout your bottom lip in sympathy.

"Don't be disgusting," he remarked. He kept on scolding, and in every bicker, he seemed to be enjoying company...only slightly.

You shrugged him off, and drop to the floor, laying on your back making snow angels in a miniscule pool of water. Your arms drenched, flailing around as you let out a sigh.

"Tom?" you ask, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yes?" he wouldn't look up, in dreadfully deep thought.

"What kind of shampoo do you use?" you asked him so intensely calm, before you cracked into laughter.

"If you ask me one more hair related question I will shave my entire head!" he smacked his diary on the wet ground.

"really?"

"NO!"

"Go shave the muggles head or something, and stop bothering me."

You stand up, taking off your soaked jumper and tossing it to the ground, taking a closer look at his work.

"What...spell are you doing exactly?" you asked, sounding a tad uncomfortable.

He lay the journal face open on the girls flattened chest as he knelt down, placing his palms on either page. His fingertips embedded into the paper and pressed as his eyes bonded, shutting tight. You noticed his left brow twitch as his lips mumbled some form of chant. You couldn't make it out enough for it to be words until his whispers morphed louder and louder, he now yelling the Latin phrasing emphatically. He suddenly stops and groaned. His body begins to clench as beams of light come shooting out from his chest, almost being absorbed into the diary.

He hunched over the girl's body...in sheer agony.

You were stunned by the brightness, processing split seconds of his screams, while trying not to burst out laughing at the side of his pain. If you witnessed Tom Riddle looking like he was about to cry, you'd piss yourself.

The light soon stopped, and the sudden halt of power resulting in him minorly collapsing backward, desperate to catch his breath. He gasped, placing his hands behind him on the wet floor for support. His eyes shift from himself to the body and then to you.

You look directly at him.

"That's it?" you chuckled.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!" he spat.