Like a Moth to a Flame
It was a quiet afternoon in Professor Evans’ office—quiet except for the soft scratching of his quill as he marked essays.
“‘Why electricity is a dangerous tool in the hands of muggles,’” Harry muttered, reading aloud from a student’s assignment. “Well, you’re not wrong, Mr. Rosier, but calling it ‘lightning on demand’ is… a choice.” He set the essay aside, sighing.
On the windowsill, curled into an impossibly small ball, was a cat. A sleek black thing, unnaturally still, its gaze half-lidded as though it were dozing. But Harry knew better.
“Your handwriting’s worse than mine,” he remarked to the cat without looking up.
*And yet, mine doesn’t require mortal effort,* came the chilly mental reply.
Harry smirked. “Fair enough. Remind me again why you’re here today?”
*I enjoy the company of fools,* Death replied, its tone devoid of humor.
Before Harry could retort, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” Harry called out, leaning back in his chair.
The door creaked open, revealing none other than Tom Riddle. He stepped inside with the kind of practiced grace that screamed of someone who always intended to command a room.
“Professor Evans,” Riddle greeted, his voice smooth and polite, though his dark eyes held a glint of calculation.
“Mr. Riddle,” Harry replied, his tone even, though a flicker of curiosity danced in his green eyes. “What brings you to my office?”
Riddle’s gaze briefly scanned the room before landing on the cat. His brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing about it.
“I wanted to discuss your recent lesson,” Riddle began. “The one on lockpicking and… electricity. It was rather unorthodox.”
“Unorthodox is one way to put it,” Harry replied, resting his chin on his hand. “But tell me, what did you think of it?”
Riddle’s lips curved into a faint, polite smile. “It was… informative. Though I couldn’t help but wonder why you chose to teach such a topic in a magical institution.”
Harry tilted his head slightly, studying the young man before him. There was something amusing about the way Riddle danced around his real question.
“Magic isn’t the only power in the world, Mr. Riddle,” Harry said, his voice calm but with an edge of coldness. “Understanding the mundane can be just as dangerous as mastering the arcane. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Tom’s expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in the air—a flicker of unease, perhaps. “I suppose so,” he replied. “But I can’t help but feel there’s more to it than that.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with a quiet amusement that didn’t quite reach his face. “You’re an observant one, aren’t you?”
“I try,” Tom replied, his tone polite but clipped.
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft *thud*. Both men turned to see the cat—Death—leaping from the windowsill onto the desk. It moved with an unnatural grace, its dark eyes fixed on Riddle.
Riddle stiffened ever so slightly. “I wasn’t aware you kept a pet, Professor.”
Harry’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t call it a pet. It’s more of… a companion. Though it doesn’t listen very well.”
*I am not your companion,* came Death’s voice in Harry’s mind, cold and sharp.
Riddle’s gaze lingered on the cat, his unease barely hidden behind a polite mask. “It has… an odd presence.”
Harry chuckled softly, the sound low and unsettling. “Yes, it does tend to have that effect on people.”
The cat tilted its head, its unblinking eyes boring into Riddle. For a brief moment, the air in the room felt heavy, the silence stretching thin.
“I’m sure you didn’t come here just to discuss my teaching methods or my… companion,” Harry said, breaking the tension. “So, what is it you *really* want, Mr. Riddle?”
Riddle’s composure slipped for the barest of moments, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. But he quickly recovered, his tone even as he replied, “I’m simply curious, Professor. You’re unlike any other teacher at Hogwarts.”
Harry smiled then, a sharp, calculating smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Curiosity can be dangerous, Tom. But I suppose you already know that.”
Riddle didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flickering between Harry and the cat. Finally, he straightened, his polite mask firmly in place. “Thank you for your time, Professor. I’ll leave you to your work.”
“Of course,” Harry said, his tone casual. “Feel free to stop by anytime.”
Riddle nodded once and turned to leave, but not before casting one last glance at the cat.
As the door clicked shut, Harry let out a low chuckle. “Well, that was fun.”
*He’s dangerous,* Death remarked, its tone flat.
“Dangerous, yes,” Harry replied, his voice calm but with an edge of coldness. “But he has no idea what he’s walking into.”
The cat’s tail flicked once, a silent agreement.
Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “Let’s see how long he lasts.”