Lost | Tom Riddle ✔

Chapter 43

This chapter is dedicated to all my readers who never stopped supporting me.

~*~*~

"It will be 2 Shillings, Sir."

A meek voice broke the trance of a Slytherin Prefect. He looked up from a newly bought item. It was a plain diary with a thick black cover. Though it was new, its pages were yellowish. The spine of that diary was shining brightly as Tom held it up in the sunlight to inspect its binding. To be honest, Tom was never a boy to write down his experiences. His sharp memory was enough catalogue to record every single detail that happened in his life. However, that day was different. It was the day when he was going to meet Gaunts, who he suspected shared the blood that ran through his veins. Hence, he wanted to note down everything in a muggle way. Clutching the diary in a hand, his other hand fished out small metal coins.

Tom playfully weighted them. A snort left his lips when he realized how light they were compared to wizard currency. It amazed him that muggles used faces of their so-called leaders whereas wizards carved magical creatures on Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. This simple fact showed how different two societies worked. Nevertheless, the fifteen-year-old teenager paid for the diary and left the place, not bothering to throw a parting glance at  Winstanley's Bookstore & Stationers, the muggle shop of London.

~

Tom looked around himself. Was he in the right place? His eyes did a double-take as they took in the small shack that stood in front of him. There was nothing remarkable about it. Nothing that could give away the fact that it actually belonged to a magical family. That too to pureblooded descendants of Salazar. It was nowhere near the way that young curious wizard had portrayed it in his mind. The only thing that had clung to any Slytherin feature was the snake-like structure carved on the door.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his hand up and knocked. No response came. His brows furrowed. He tried again. The result didn't change. Getting impatient, Tom pushed the door slightly. It creaked as it opened wide, allowing the visitor to enter the noble shack of the only pureblood living heir of the greatest parselmouth of all time.

Tom scrunched his nose as a rotten smell of stale meat evaded his senses. His eyes widened in disbelief when his mind processed how messy the place was. Everything was where it was not supposed to be. He was about to take a step further but found himself being blocked by a pile of unwashed clothes. They were tangled with the empty cans of different edibles.  It appeared to him that the cottage was not cleaned for ages. His handsome face gave away his distaste. Tom never liked unorganized people. To be honest, for once he appreciated the way Mrs Cole - the woman who was an in-charge of Wool's orphanage, kept the place tidy. Realizing what he had just thought, he deliberately pushed that idea out of his mind.

A certain sound helped him in doing so. It was the sound of thumps. The one which gave away that he was not alone in that old, almost abandoned shack.

Tom looked up to see a man standing before him. He had thick hair so matted with dirt that no one could guess their original colour. His eyes were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. The way he looked didn't hide the fact that he had not taken a bath since ages. The more Tom looked at him the more hideous he became. He was definitely the ugliest man the young wizard had seen in his fifteen years of life.

"You? What are you doing here?" The man hissed. Now that his mouth had opened Tom could see, his several teeth were missing. However, it surprised him that he had talked in Parseltongue. It confirmed that this man was Gaunt.

"I am here to meet the noble blood of Salazar Slytherin," Tom responded in the Parseltongue. His face concealed his disgust towards his current surroundings. And he was going to keep that facade until he got the information he sought. After all, he was a consummate actor.