The air in Borgïn and Burkës is heavy with the scent of old magic, the kind that clings to cursed objects and forgotten artifacts. Tom stands behind the counter, his posture perfect, his dark eyes scanning you as you admire the locket of SaIazar SIytherin encased in glass.

"I'm afraid that particular item is no longer available," he says.

You frown, glancing at the locket again. "It doesn't look sold."

"It was reserved earlier today," he replies, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mr. Borgïn emerges from the back room, his sharp features twisted in annoyance. "Reserved? RiddIe, what nonsense are you telling the customer?"

Tom stiffens, the slightest twitch betraying his irritation. "I thought it best to—"

"The locket is for sale," Borgin snaps, cutting him off. "A rare piece like that shouldn't sit around gathering dust." He turns to you, his demeanor instantly shifting to that of a merchant eager to please. "If you're interested, I’m sure we can come to an agreement on the price."

You sense the tension, but your desire to own the historic artifact outweighs your hesitation. The transaction is quick, and Borgin hands you the locket with a smug grin, oblivious to the dark energy simmering just beneath Tom’s composed exterior.

---

Hours later, the sound of footsteps echoes in your dimly lit hallway. You open the door to find Tom standing there, his eyes shadowed.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me," he says, his voice low but cutting.

"The locket?" you ask, stepping back instinctively.

"Yes," he replies, stepping forward. "It is my birthright, and I will not leave without it."

His calm tone sends a chill down your spine. You clutch the locket tighter, unsure whether to reason with him or slam the door.

"I paid for it," you manage to say.

Tom’s lips curl into a cold smile. "Money does not determine ownership. That locket is mine by blood, by destiny. Give it to me,” he demands as he raises his wand, “or I will take it by other means."