Riddle's Rose || Tom Riddle {#Wattys 2017}

riddles

Tom and I sit in the Common Room, him reading again, and me on the ground, bored beyond measure.

"Hey, Tom?"

"What?"

"I'm bored."

"Too bad."

I pout and cross my arms. He's so boring sometimes. When he's not plotting the death of someone, he has a rather plain day that doesn't include riding unicorns into the sunset.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Alive without breath, cold as death, never thirsty, ever drinking, clad in mail, never clinking. What am I?" I say, quoting the Hobbit.

"What is that supposed to be?" He asks, lowering his book the tiniest bit.

"A riddle. You seem like the type person who loves these.  For obvious reasons."

"It's a fish," he answers, "Will you leave me alone, now?"

"NOPE! I have plenty more Hobbit riddles!"

"Oh, joy..."

"What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"These are much simpler than I thought they would be. It's a mountain."

"Fine...voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters."

Rather than answering right away, Tom seems to have a little trouble with this one. Right when I'm about to jump up and yell triumphantly, he gets it.

"Wind."

"Damn you!"

He shrugs in answer.

"Okay, I think you'll like this one: It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes out first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter. And no, it's not your soul, although that is a good guess."

"Oh, that's actually was I was going to say, but I suppose I was wrong...is it the dark?" He asks, suddenly interested. Yes! I made Tom interested in what I have to say! Woo!

"It is. Good job, you get a cookie!"

"I hate cookies."

"Are you even human?"

"Am I?"

"No one knows. Okay, last one, are you ready?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope! Okay, This thing all things devours; Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Slays king, ruins town, and beats mountain down."

"Bad weather?"

"Tom! You joked! You actually joked about something...I guess my teachings have payed off!"

"Yes, don't get used to it. It's time. Man's worst enemy."

"Right again, Tom! Maybe now you can correct my potions essay...?"

"Correct it? You haven't even started it yet. And it's due in thirty minutes," he says, disappointed.

"Tom. Tom, Tom, Tommy, Tom, Tom. My young friend. You have so much to learn. What was that essay on again?"

"The Draught of the Living Death."

"Okay, what the bloody hell is that?"

"It's a potion that causes the drinker to fall into a deep death-like sleep," he recites. 

"And, how long is it supposed to be?"

"A foot long."

"Alright. Watch the master."

I take out a piece of parchment and a quill. Writing in huge letters, I write exactly what Tom told me and end up taking one and a half feet instead. Instant O. Boom.

Tom takes a look at the parchment and shakes his head, "You can't do that," he says.

"Why not. Our dear Professor Slughorn said nothing about how many words we should write. He only said how much of the page we should take up. It's his own fault is there's any...'confusion'."

"You're going to fail."

"I've been doing this for years and Sluggy loves me. I'm in the Slug Club, remember?"

Tom snorts, "That's only because you're a kiss up."

"I'm a kiss up? You basically seem to worship the ground he walks on. 'Oh, let me take your coat, Professor.' 'Would you like coffee, Sir?' 'I've brought you your favourite chocolates today, Sir!' You really need to quit that act. The rest of us are struggling."

Tom rolls his eyes. "Potions is starting soon. Coming?"

"Yeah,  but I'm not staying. There are better things I could be doing with my life."

"Whatever."

•••

Hi.

Again.

Someone asked me if I'm living vicariously through the life of my technically dead character and I'm not I swear!

Okay, I lied.

But yeah, PM me if you have random questions for me or just comment it.

~Nandi🖤
@Queen_Of_Memessss