Living The Riddled Life

She poured the yellow powder into the bowl along with a cup of milk, eggs, and a frothy pink liquid. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him slip into a chair, gracefully placing a thick black volume onto the antique wooden table, and pull out his wand.

"I´m baking a cake, Chocolate or Lemon?" she asked, sending him a sidelong glance while she pulled out her own wand and waved it over the bowl.

"What?" he said irritably, snapping his head up to glare at the woman by the counter.

"I-am-baking-a-cake. Do-you-want-it-to-be-Chocolate-or-Lemon-flavored?" she asked, slowly and clearly, enunciating every word as though speaking to a small child.

He said nothing and went back to his reading.

"Well?" she asked after a minute, pursing her lips.

"I don´t need sustenance."

"Of course you don´t. You are the High Mighty One, how could I have asked such a stupid question? Please forgive me," she said flatly, "The potion´ll dry up, do you have a choice?"

"I told you. I don´t need it," he answered impatiently, suddenly fingering his wand - something he did whenever angered.

"Chocolate it is then," she answered with a bright, sarcastic smile. She turned back around and fumed in silence, listening to him mutter foreign words and flip through the pages of his book while beating the now green mixture furiously with a large spoon.

-:- -:- -:-

"You smell..." Veronica Doyle observed, sniffing him ostentatiously while the few people around them laughed. Tom muttered something incoherent, head bowed miserably, and continued the trek through the rolling green lawns towards Hogwarts castle.

Two weeks into the year at the elite school, the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors had just completed their very first flying lesson with Madame Parsnip. The eager Slytherins had lined up with the equally excited Gryffindors, forgetting the legendary rivalry between the two houses in all their enthusiasm. Tom had, along with the rest of his peers, reached out his hand quite anxiously and called `Up´ when the teacher signaled. Unlike the other students, however, Tom´s shiny broomstick did not obey his command - a peculiar occurrence, as the school had purchased them only last year and the whole lot were in near-perfect condition.

Tom, after throwing suspicious looks at his neighbors, (believing for a moment that somebody had tampered with it and then remembering that they were first years and had barely mastered the art of a simple levitation spell) called to his broomstick a second time a little louder, and still received no response. Gritting his teeth, he called to it again, ignoring the scattered sniggering around him. Madame Parsnip watched him with mild concern along with every other person attending the lesson. He felt beads of sweat begin to form around his hairline and then, without any idea of why he did it, he forced his mind to concentrate on willing the broomstick to come to his awaiting hand. Instantly, the broomstick came into his grasp and he let out a breath of relief.

Madame Parsnip, seeing that everyone was ready, told the class to mount their brooms and take off, making sure to fly no higher than 15 feet. Tom sensed that his broomstick might not comply at his demands as the others did. So just to be sure, after mounting it with some silent trepidation, he concentrated on taking off - once again, wondering why he did it. Sure enough, the broomstick shot up about fifteen feet, and then wavered in midair, as though deciding which direction to turn. `Down!´ Tom had whispered to it urgently, as the rest of the class was already making their descent. The broom turned slightly to the left and zoomed backwards a few yards, Tom hanging on tight. He took a deep breath and turned the handle downwards, hoping for a nice, clean landing. Instead, the broom shot fifty feet in the air and, with a sharp turn, flew forward at breakneck speed with Tom hanging on for his dear life right into a patch of Hippogriff dung outside the house of Hogwarts´ Groundskeeper, Ogg.

This was definitely the worse day he´d ever had. And now Veronica Doyle, a pretty little girl with curly black hair, was drawing even more attention to his muddy, dripping stature.

"You smell like dung!" she continued, giggling and staring straight at him while they ascended the steps to the castle, Tom leaving brown mud prints on the clean, gray stone steps. He was sure his face was burning and he quickened his pace, desperate to get away and take a nice, cleansing shower. When the group finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, a boy up ahead with a shock of blond hair gave the password and they settled in. Tom walked quickly as possible through the scattered silver and green poufs and chairs, dodging the remarks about his scent and repeated inquiries as to what had happened to the ickle firstie.

At last, he made it to his dormitory and practically leapt into the bathroom.

He ran his finger down the table of contents and stopped when he reached "Chapter 14: Humiliation Hexes - pgs. 497-546". Raising an eyebrow at the inviting title, he quickly flipped to the page and began absorbing information on the Jelly-legs Jinx. It was a month into the school year and Tom had learned two things: that he had a natural knack for spell casting - he was probably first in all his classes so far, and that people who end up in a pile of hippogriff dung at the end of a simple flying lesson are never forgotten. Now, nearly a fortnight after the mortifying incident, he was still teased in the corridors by a myriad of obnoxious Gryffindors and kept at a distance from his fellow Slytherins, upperclassmen not included.

Now he sat in the library, in between classes, researching ways to get back at that stupid Gryffindor who had thrown a dung bomb into his bag. He propped his legs up on the seat across from him and relaxed for a promising read on the infamous Jelly-Legs jinx. He´d seen a fourth year cast it last week on some Hufflepuff and had decided that to have such power as to render an enemy practically legless was his goal for now. He was certain that with a little practice, however young and untrained he was, he could attain it.

He felt a slight weight on his foot and looked up to see a black bag resting the polished toes and Veronica Doyle leaning forward against the chair-back. She gave him a quick smile and then put a finger to her lips.

"Can I sit here?" she whispered, glancing over her shoulder suspiciously. He furrowed his brow and before he could nod his consent, she picked his feet off the chair along with the bag unceremoniously and set herself down on it instead. "What´s that you´re reading?" she asked, once again in hushed tones.

"Oh, just a book," he answered a little coldly. Immediately, she put her finger to her lips again and glanced around in paranoia.

"Well, obviously it´s a book. Are you doing homework or something?" she whispered. He turned the page in the text to show how uninterested he was in their conversation. He didn´t particularly like Veronica Doyle. Although he´d never really spoken to her, she seemed loud, obnoxious, and in general, someone he didn´t want to hang around. Besides, she had a creepy way of staring at him whenever he wasn´t looking.

"No, we don´t have any homework," he answered, in a slightly louder tone than he would normally use, to annoy her.

"Shh!" she hushed quickly, "I´m kind of running from someone. You wouldn´t believe what happened!" she added excitedly. He stared at the page and tried to ignore her.

"You know that Gryffindor that threw that dungbomb into your bag?" she continued casually, tucking a stray curled lock behind her ear while he felt himself burn with embarrassment. What, was she following him around? "After you left, I tried to put an engorgement charm on his nose - you know, try it out and all - and I kind of missed and hit his ear and he started screaming because supposedly the noise from Professor Dumbledore´s class (we were right outside his room) was hurting him," she paused to breathe and Tom, despite his general annoyance towards her, looked up to see why she´d stopped. She pushed her thick hair out of her face and continued, "so Professor Dumbledore came out to see what happened and he told him that I attacked him and when Dumbledore went to fix the oaf´s ear, I ran." She finished and smiled, watching him for a reaction.

"Oh..." was all he could say. What does one say after hearing this kind of story? "So... now you know you can do an Engorgement Charm." he added, feeling very stupid as he said it.

She laughed, "Well yeah, I guess that´s a plus. I´ll just find that Gryffindor whenever I learn a new charm from now on, huh?" He laughed and placed the still-open book down on the table. She looked at it curiously, "So what´s that you´re reading?"

"Oh, just a book," he repeated, "It´s on spells and hexes... I´m trying to learn how to do the Jelly-Legs Jinx. Actually, I was going to get back at that Gryffindor myself..."

"Oh? That sounds good. So you´re just reading up on Jelly Legs? Why don´t you look up other stuff too?" she suggested, pulling up her chair next to his and boldly flipping through the pages without his permission.

"Like what?" he asked somewhat irritably.

"I don´t know... there are just so many in here, I´m sure we could find something less cliché..."

"But there are so many...."

"Well, let´s just start looking through the table of contents," she cut in cheerily. Tom sighed and they spent a good half-hour just searching. Finally, Veronica stopped and pointed to something listed on page XIV of the table of contents.

" "The Tickling Charm"..." Tom read, "That´s good, it´s humiliating and he can´t take it off himself," he stated bitterly.

Veronica laughed, "Ha! I bet we´re the only first years who´ve ever tried this... or even looked through this book!"

"Yeah, I know... we can set a record or something, for spell casting!" Tom joined ambitiously.

"Let´s get started then!"

-:- -:- -:-

"Here you are," she said, placing a generous slice of chocolate cake in front of him. He glanced at the cake, threw her a disgusted look, and went back to his book. Biting back a smile at his childish reaction, she pulled up a chair next to his and glanced at the book. It was written in some ancient runic language and, not recognizing a character on the page, she nudged his arm playfully. She moved her chair up as close to his as possible, encouraged by his lack of reaction. Finally, when she started leaning on his shoulder heavily, he sucked his teeth and glared at her.

"Do you want something?" he asked irritably.

"Have some cake."

"No. I told you, I don´t want any!" he snapped, trying to push her off of him.

"Oh yes you do. And you´re going to have some!" she retorted, starting to get annoyed and leaning on him harder.

"No I´m not!" he cried, at last pushing her away. She jerked to the side and almost fell off her chair from the force of his thrust. Shooting up from her seat, she stabbed the fork into the cake, pulled off a moderate chunk and shoved it into his mouth.

"Oh yes you are Tom," she grinned mischievously. He chewed angrily at first and then broke into a smile. She laughed, relieved that she´d finally broken into him and sat down again. "So what´s this now?" She waved a hand at the open book.

"I´m trying to find a spell..." he started hesitantly.

"For what?" she prompted, furrowing her brow.

He shifted slightly in his chair and glanced at her expectant look, "Uh..."

"Yes?"

"Fine, I´ll tell you. But promise--"

"I know, to never tell anyone and blah blah blah," she interrupted impatiently, "Now get on with it, why are you so frustrated?"

"I don´t understand these," he pointed to the characters on the yellowing page, "they make no sense... I think I´m translating wrong..."

"Um... why don´t you try someone else? You know, go to one of those Professors at Stonehenge - if anyone could help you, they can--"

"I can´t! No, no, I can´t let anyone else see this. It took months for me to even find the book, it´s that rare, and I´m not letting anyone get their hands on it!" he cried, edging the book slightly closer to him in a sudden movement. She blinked.

"Okay... calm down... do you want me to get you some translation texts or something?"

"I don´t know..." he rubbed his face tiredly and she conjured up a cup and set the kettle to heat.

"Tom, don´t get so worked up over this... you´re only nineteen, you know. And Merlin knows you´ve come far. What spell are you looking for anyway?" she asked, patting his arm soothingly.

"A...a youth serum..." he said slowly.

"Oh... and what are you going to do with a youth serum?" she asked warily.

"Find it. Learn how to use it. And then manipulate it," he answered confidently, opening the text once more.

"Um... manipulate it how exactly?" she asked, setting down a cup of tea in front of him. She reached up for the tin of biscuits atop the stove and almost missed his whispered reply.

"Immortality."

The light blue tin crashed to the floor.