Shattered Expectations
The fire crackled softly in the still of the night, its flickering shadows playing against the stone walls. The massive creature, Teeth, had retreated into the darkness, its hunger sated for the moment. Harry, seemingly unaffected by the bizarre nature of their meal, wiped his hands calmly on his trousers. He didn’t even flinch as he stood near the dying embers of the fire, his expression as unreadable as ever.
Tom, however, was still processing what had just occurred. His body had only been restored to its human form for two days, yet already he could feel the weight of this new existence pressing against him. Flesh that didn’t quite fit. Power that still seemed unfamiliar. And yet, none of that could compare to the revelation of Harry Potter—the boy who had defeated his counterpart—feeding a creature human flesh and eating it with such… casualness.
“Did you just… feed that thing?” Tom asked, his voice steady, though it carried a trace of incredulity. He took a deliberate step forward, his eyes narrowing, watching Harry carefully.
Harry didn’t flinch at Tom’s tone, his gaze lifting slowly from the fire to meet Tom’s eyes, green and unsettlingly calm. “What of it?” Harry replied, his voice flat, unconcerned, as though Tom's question held no significance at all.
Tom paused. He had dabbled in dark magic before, had performed unspeakable rituals, twisted the very fabric of life and death in ways that still haunted the edges of his mind. But this? This was something else entirely. Feeding that… beast human flesh? Tom’s lips curled slightly, a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. A part of him had to admit, there was something chillingly impressive about Harry’s nonchalance.
“You… have no qualms?” Tom asked, his tone softening just a fraction. There was something almost hypnotic about the way Harry carried himself. It was as if he had already shed any sense of morality, as if he were already walking a path Tom had only dreamed of—one where power was absolute, and conscience a fleeting luxury.
Harry's expression didn’t change, his eyes meeting Tom’s with a piercing intensity. “I don’t need to justify my actions to you, Tom,” he replied, his words edged with a sharpness that made Tom take an involuntary step back. There was no hesitation in Harry’s tone, no fear, no second-guessing. It was as if he had already decided that the rules of the world—of morality—didn’t apply to him.
The words struck a nerve deep within Tom, but he did not show it. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, assessing Harry with the calculating gaze of a man who had seen darkness in its many forms. Tom had created Horcruxes, torn apart his own soul in the pursuit of immortality, and yet Harry’s calmness, his complete indifference to the horror they had just witnessed, unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
“Such a confident stance for someone so young,” Tom mused aloud, his eyes narrowing, his mind spinning. He took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving Harry’s. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You did defeat my counterpart, after all. You were the one who tore him down.”
Harry’s lips quirked slightly. There was no pride in it, only a quiet certainty. “I did what I had to,” he said simply.
Tom’s eyes flickered for a moment, the gears in his mind turning. Harry had not boasted of his victory, nor had he shown any real emotion. It was as if this had all been a part of some larger plan—a plan that Tom couldn’t quite grasp yet. His curiosity deepened, and with it, something else began to stir inside him: a possessiveness, a desire to control.
“Tell me,” Tom continued, his voice taking on a colder, more measured tone, “how did it feel, Harry? To be the one who defeated him? Was it as easy as you’ve made it look?” His gaze sharpened, studying Harry’s every movement, his every breath. “Or perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to it. Too comfortable in your power.”
Harry stood unmoving, his eyes never leaving Tom’s. “You think you know everything about power,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of warning. “But you don’t. Not yet.”
Tom’s smile grew faint, something cold flashing in his eyes. “You’re right, I don’t,” he admitted, his tone almost admiring. “But I will. It seems I have much to learn from you, Harry.”
For a moment, there was a heavy silence between them, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire. Tom’s mind raced, trying to fit the pieces together. This was a power he hadn’t expected to encounter. The boy—this *man*—was no longer just the defeat of a Dark Lord. He was something else entirely. A creature in his own right, unbound by the constraints that Tom had once adhered to.
“What’s your endgame, Harry?” Tom asked, his voice low, as though probing for weaknesses. “What do you truly want?”
Harry’s lips curled, but his expression remained unreadable. “I want freedom,” he said simply. “And control.”
Tom’s eyes flashed with a new understanding. The very same hunger that had driven him for so long, that had made him the most feared wizard in history, now mirrored in Harry. This was not a child he was dealing with. This was a force. One that had already claimed its victory and now stood poised to claim the rest of the world.
Tom’s fingers twitched, the slightest trace of power stirring within him. There was a thrill in the air, a tension that both repelled and attracted. He had never been one to share power, and yet something about Harry’s calm confidence tugged at him, a challenge that had yet to be fully answered.
“I will have it,” Tom murmured softly, more to himself than to Harry. “Whatever it takes.”
And Harry? Harry only smirked, his eyes never leaving Tom’s. “We’ll see, won’t we?”