Domesticity in The Unusual
The morning sun filtered through the canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows across the kitchen. The rustic charm of the house stood in stark contrast to the peculiar household it sheltered. Harry stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up, a spatula in hand as he worked on breakfast.
Teeth, as usual, loomed silently near the doorway, its towering form impossibly still. Though it didn’t speak, its presence was anything but passive. The occasional tilt of its head or the soft creak of its movements was all Harry needed to understand its moods.
“Stop hovering,” Harry said without looking up, flipping a pancake deftly. “I’ll be done soon.”
Teeth made a low, rumbling noise—not quite a growl, but enough to convey its impatience.
From the far corner of the room, Tom Riddle sat at the table, his hands steepled as he watched the exchange with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. His dark eyes flicked between Harry and the creature, still struggling to reconcile the bizarre domesticity of the scene before him.
“You’re cooking for that... thing?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.
Harry glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “Teeth likes pancakes.”
“Pancakes,” Tom repeated, his tone flat. “A monster that could tear apart a dozen men prefers pancakes.”
Teeth turned its head toward Tom, its grin widening. Tom stiffened, clearing his throat as he averted his gaze.
Harry chuckled softly. “Teeth has preferences, just like anyone else. Besides, it’s not like you’re offering to cook.”
“I wasn’t aware I needed to,” Tom replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “This arrangement is already far more... domestic than I anticipated.”
Harry shrugged, sliding a stack of pancakes onto a plate. “You’d be surprised how normal things can be when you stop questioning them.” He set the plate on the table and gestured to Teeth. “Breakfast is ready.”
Teeth moved forward with an uncanny grace, its eyeless face tilting toward the pancakes as it crouched beside the table. Despite its monstrous appearance, it handled the food delicately, using its clawed hands to pick up pieces with surprising care.
Tom watched, unable to hide his curiosity. “Does it even taste anything?”
Harry leaned against the counter, sipping a cup of tea. “I think so. Teeth doesn’t exactly write reviews, but it seems to enjoy it.”
Teeth let out a low, contented sound, confirming Harry’s statement.
Tom leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t understand you,” he said after a moment. “You’re detached, predatory, and yet... you’re standing here cooking breakfast for a monster as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.”
Harry tilted his head, meeting Tom’s gaze with an unnerving calm. “Teeth isn’t just a monster. It’s my guardian. My family.”
Tom opened his mouth to reply but hesitated, something in Harry’s tone stopping him. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he observed the strange dynamic between the boy and the creature.
“Family,” Tom murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
The rest of the meal passed in relative quiet, save for the occasional rumble from Teeth and the clink of cutlery. As Harry cleaned up, Tom finally broke the silence.
“You’re an enigma, Harry Potter,” he said, his voice low and contemplative. “I wonder if I’ll ever fully understand you.”
Harry glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I think you’ll have to stick around a bit longer to find out.”
Teeth let out another contented rumble, as if agreeing, and Tom couldn’t help but feel that he’d stumbled into something far more complex than he’d ever anticipated.