A Quiet Majesty
The forest was eerily quiet that evening, the kind of silence that felt intentional, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath. The campfire that they set up in the garden crackled softly, its orange glow casting flickering shadows on the trees. Teeth was sprawled out nearby, its massive, eyeless form at ease for once, resting like a gargoyle carved from the darkest stone.
Tom sat on a fallen log, observing the strange scene before him with a mixture of fascination and wariness. The oddity of the situation hadn’t diminished; if anything, it had grown sharper in the quiet moments. Harry, seated cross-legged on the forest floor, seemed entirely at peace, as though the world itself bent to his will.
It was unsettling.
Harry was humming softly, a low tune that danced on the edge of recognition, yet was entirely unfamiliar. His movements were fluid and deliberate as he sifted through an assortment of herbs and small vials he had laid out before him. The firelight caught the curve of his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint smirk playing on his lips.
He looked otherworldly, like something out of an ancient legend—both human and not.
Tom watched in silence, his sharp mind turning over the puzzle that was Harry Potter. This was not the boy he’d envisioned when he’d imagined the one who destroyed his other self. There was an unsettling grace about him, a presence that felt larger than life, as if he carried secrets too vast for a single soul.
“You’re staring.” Harry’s voice broke the silence, low and smooth, with an edge of amusement.
Tom raised an eyebrow, his composure unbroken. “Am I not allowed to observe the enigma before me?”
Harry’s smirk widened, though he didn’t look up from his task. “You make it sound like I’m a curiosity at a carnival.”
“In a way, you are,” Tom countered, his voice calm but laced with intrigue. “You’ve made a life out here in the wilderness, feeding human flesh to that… creature.” He inclined his head toward Teeth, who let out a low, rumbling purr in response, as if it knew it was being discussed.
Harry chuckled, the sound low and rich. “And yet you’re still here.”
Tom tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving Harry. “I’m still here because I’m curious. You don’t match the picture your fame paints, Potter. There’s a darkness to you—one I hadn’t anticipated.”
Harry finally looked up, his green eyes glinting in the firelight. “And you think you’re the authority on darkness, do you?”
Tom didn’t flinch, though the weight of Harry’s gaze was palpable. “I’ve walked paths most wouldn’t dare tread. I understand the allure of power, of control.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. “But you… you’re something else entirely.”
Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Perhaps. Or maybe I’m just what happens when you’re left to fend for yourself in a world that doesn’t care if you survive.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths.
Teeth shifted then, rising to its full, imposing height. It let out a low, guttural sound, its head turning as if scanning the woods despite its lack of eyes. Harry glanced at it, his expression softening in a way that was almost tender.
“Go on,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “You’ve earned your rest.”
The creature let out a satisfied rumble before slinking off into the shadows, its massive form disappearing into the night.
Tom watched it go, his sharp mind noting the strange bond between the two. “It listens to you,” he said, more a statement than a question.
“Of course it does,” Harry replied, rising gracefully to his feet. There was an air of quiet command about him, as if the forest itself bent to his will. “Teeth knows loyalty better than most people. It’s earned, not taken.”
Tom stood as well, his gaze locked on Harry. “And what have you done to earn such loyalty?”
Harry’s smile was enigmatic, his eyes shimmering with a depth that felt almost ancient. “I survived.”
The words were simple, but they carried a weight that Tom couldn’t ignore. For a moment, they stood there, two opposing forces bound together by fate and circumstance.
The fire crackled softly between them, the only sound in the stillness of the night.