con artist
“Harry.” Tom whispered at the younger boy’s bed. Harry responded with a snore. Tom separated the curtains surrounding the deep green bed, grabbed Harry's foot, and sent a stinging hex at them, a strong one.
The result was immediate, the boy yelped and sat up, back ramrod straight, the boy lazily wiped off the drool at the edge of his mouth and sleep out of his eyes.
“Who did that?” Harry muttered sleepily.
Tom shook him, “me.”
“Tom? What do ya want?” the boy said, any signs of grogginess gone.
“The Elder wand, Harry it’s appeared.” Tom paused. “there’s also a tattoo, of the deathly hallows on my arm.”
Harry checked his arm, lo and behold, the mark of the deathly hallows.
“As long as we keep it covered its fine.” harry replied.
Tom shot an incredulous look at him, eyes piercing his even in the dark.
“What?” Harry said defensively.
“First, it’s fucking massive. Second, this is Grindelwald’s mark, one which we have on our arms during wartime with Grindelwald!” Tom whisper shouted.
“Alright don’t get your knickers in a twist.” harry responded placatingly.
“If the wand appeared and Grindelwald is currently of possession of it what does that mean for us?”
“Why thank you Harry for asking that question.” he smiled unpleasantly. “That means we are fucked.”
“Why?”
“A responsible owner would have, put a tracking spell on it, and if I were the owner of the death stick, I would have done exactly that, you know, seeing as it is the most powerful wand in existence.”
“Why did it come here though?”
Tom sighed as if expecting a bombardment of questions, which of course he was, and answered,” well unless I'm poorly mistaken, you are the master of death, or do I need to add hyphens to that too.”
Harry blushed in response, "no.”
He opened his mouth once more.
“And if you were planning to say something along the lines of, why now. I have no idea.”
“Wait. This is all death’s fault, so doesn’t that mean I-”
Harry abruptly called out,” DEATH!”