Poison Ivy | T. Riddle ✔

[07] Warning Bell

Ever since he had caught Riddle flirting with his cousin, Perseus became even more cautious around him. True enough, they dealt with customers in their respective shifts, had tea together and would discuss a lot of matters just like they did before. But there was a tense stiffness in Perseus's attitude towards him.

Tom deliberately ignored the barrier and resumed his routine as if nothing had happened between them at all. Often times, he would try to touch up the topic of the Dark Arts and the books Perseus had in his possession, but he would divert the conversation and try his best not to let anything slip.

Still there was a bell that was ringing in his head; a warning bell that indicated Riddle probably knew about the deadly information he had stored in his brain over the years. Quite similar to that warning bell which was ringing constantly in his head, the doorbell clanged which shook Perseus out of his thoughts badly.

"Easy there, young lad," he let out a relieved sigh when he saw it was just Mister Borgin; his father's partner, "who did you expect to walk through the door? The devil or a dementor?"

Perseus straightened immediately, "not at all, Sir. We are in Knockturn Alley, Dementors don't come here unless sent by the Ministry."

"But the devil does, is that what you meant to say?" Borgin laughed heartily and headed towards the counter.

"Well, I believe that's possible. A dementor gliding in would be shocking enough but you wouldn't be surprised if Lucifer walked in through this door himself, right Perseus?" Tom's remarkably smooth voice reached him which made a slight shiver of discomfort run down his spine.

He nodded in affirmation locking eyes with him, "considering the fact that I have tea with him every afternoon, no I wouldn't be surprised at all."

"Lads your age have delightfully creepy fantasies," Borgin remarked busying himself with the glass case, inspecting each and every item as if afraid something would have been lost, "old men like me and Caractacus would never be able to understand what goes through your fickle heads."

"For once I have to agree with you, Mister Borgin," the much familiar ominous smirk was playing on his well chiseled mouth, "we do have delightfully creepy fantasies which are way beyond your understanding."

Borgin, however, didn't take much notice of the statement but Perseus excused himself immediately and went out of the shop for a gulp of fresh air. At times, staying in the same room as Tom Riddle proved to be quite suffocating for him. It felt as if Riddle's mere presence was somehow strangling the life out of him.

He could feel the stony grey eyes following his every move, the angular features turned up slightly in either amusement or mockery, the thin lips curved into a chilling half smirk.

And the thought of it all made him feel nauseous. Tom Riddle was messing with his mind without even doing anything apparently. He didn't know what it was but at times, he could unmistakably feel someone entering his mind, playing with his memories and peeking through the folds of his brain, searching for a vital piece of information.

Information regarding the Dark Arts. 

Information that could prove lethal if fallen into the wrong hands. And from all that Perseus had seen and observed; Riddle was definitely not the kind of person who would refrain from using the Dark Arts for vile means.

To him, Riddle was quite the personification of evil. The sugarcoated version of the devil himself. Lucifer, like he had just suggested a few moments earlier.

Or perhaps even worse than Lucifer.

***

The parlor at Herbert Burke's abode was lit up and a rather unexpected guest was seated at the couch. Tom Riddle's ever curious eyes were taking in the whole of the surroundings, observing everything from the pale curtains to the wall hangings.