Key.
Tom stood still, his mind whirling in an eerie calm, the flickering shadows of the fire reflecting in his dark, calculating eyes. He'd always prided himself on his sharp intellect, his foresight—yet, in this moment, everything felt like a jumbled mess, a mistake he couldn’t quite understand.
Why had he—*his older self*—attacked Harry? A random baby, so insignificant at the time. Why had he chosen *him* of all people? There had been so many other avenues for power, so many other ways to secure dominance, and yet, in his arrogance, his older counterpart had targeted this child.
Tom’s lip curled, his teeth grinding as he paced slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides. He had always seen his older self as foolish—weak in ways that Tom would never be. But the more he thought about it, the more baffled he became by the entire decision. Harry hadn’t been anything special. He was just a baby, after all. What was it that had made *his* older self lash out at him, choosing such an unremarkable target?
Tom couldn’t answer the question. It burned, like a mystery he couldn’t solve, and it gnawed at him. Why Harry? What had made him the object of his older self’s wrath? What was the significance of the boy?
And then the real question—*how had Harry made his older counterpart lose his powers?*
The realization struck Tom with a sharp edge. His older self had been at the peak of his power, untouchable. But when he tried to kill Harry, something had happened. The boy’s mere survival had forced Tom’s older counterpart to lose something—something irreplaceable. His connection to the dark magic, the power he had relied on, had been severed. *The boy had made him weaker.*
The thought alone was enough to make Tom’s eyes narrow in frustration, his hands curling into fists. How had that happened? How had a mere child been the catalyst for that loss of power? It didn’t make sense. It was a blow to his pride, an offense he could barely tolerate.
Tom turned his back to the fire, his fingers twitching restlessly. But even as the questions swirled around him, there was another feeling creeping in, one that he couldn’t shake. Something darker, more possessive.
He knew now, with a twisted certainty, that Harry’s survival had been the beginning of something far more significant than anyone had realized. A child born from his older counterpart’s mistake, a fragment of his soul bound to the boy.
And though Tom couldn’t fathom why his older self had attacked Harry in the first place, he knew that he had inherited something from that failure. A part of his soul had been left behind in the boy, and now that bond could never be broken. No matter how much it irritated him to admit it, Harry was his.
Tom’s thoughts darkened further as he considered what to do next. Harry’s strength, his unnatural survival, his ability to undo the power of his older self—it was all too much to ignore. The boy was more than just a link to the past; he was something *new*—something that Tom could claim for himself.
A strange possessiveness flared inside him. Harry wasn’t just a child anymore. He was a potential weapon, an opportunity that Tom couldn’t afford to let slip through his fingers.
*Why had Harry made my older self lose his power?* The question echoed in Tom’s mind, but beneath it was the realization that Harry wasn’t just a child. He was a key. A key to something Tom had long been searching for: complete, undeniable power.
“I’ll figure you out, Harry,” Tom muttered to himself, his voice low, filled with cold determination. “I’ll understand you, and when I do, you will be *mine*.”
His fingers tightened as he stood in the dark, his thoughts swirling with dark possibilities. He had to be patient, but the thought of finally having Harry—of having everything that his older self had failed to attain—was too tempting. It was only a matter of time.