Chapter 10:
Tom studied the boy calmly, noting the dry sheen of tears that still glistened barely visible on the boy's cheeks as he stared determinedly at the table.
It had been a long time since Tom, himself, had last cried, he'd been perhaps eight years old - he found no use for tears, except for perhaps in some obscure potions. Nonetheless, he did recognise that even if he himself was exceptional, most children would have started crying far earlier if they were in Harry's position. He was reluctantly...not quite impressed, but of a similar sentiment.
The boy was also rearranging the food on his plate more than he was eating. Unacceptable.
"Eat," he ordered, once again, fully familiar with this process by now, his gaze narrowed on the other. Harry's head shot up, his fists clenching warily around the cutlery as his head snapped up, to look him across the table.
"I'm not hungry," Harry whispered.
"You're a twelve year old boy who's not hungry? What's wrong with you? - I'm not your Uncle, I'm not going to starve you for crying."
Those fists tightened further, and the boy's teeth visibly gritted.
"Shut up, you know nothing about me!" he snarled. "And, actually, it's more that seeing your face kind of ruins my appetite!"
He may have been imagining it, but Harry's tone seemed slightly less venomous than normal, more subdued. He'd clearly touched a nerve.
"Nothing about you?" Tom returned, delicately, ignoring the latter comment with only some amusement for it. "I know rather a lot about you, actually, Harry, though of course I'd relish the opportunity to learn more..."
Harry ignored that comment in response, studying him with that...strange lack of fear in his eyes, which still amazed him. Harry was undeniably wary of him, and sometimes he frightened the child - he knew, he thrived on it - but Harry had never shown him true fear.
He wasn't entirely certain what to think about that, it left him feeling decidedly...odd.
"What about you?" Harry challenged. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself? I'd...relish the chance the opportunity to learn more." Harry paused fractionally on the word relish, clearly mimicking his own words, but not knowing exactly what it meant, but probably guessing the approximate meaning from context. Or at least uncertain of it in some manner. "After all," Harry added. "You obviously know so much about me that you don't need to know anymore."
"What would you like to know?" he questioned, with an indulgent smile.
Harry seemed surprised for a moment, before his head tilted. Looking for a catch, no doubt. He made a small gesture for the boy to keep eating, and, still thinking, Harry did so automatically.
"What was your childhood like? You said...you said we were the same...?"
"My childhood," Tom murmured, not liking the feeling of honesty, he didn't particularly enjoy being associated with his childhood, but, in this case, it could only work in his favour. "Was not the pleasantest of them all, as you can no doubt imagine. I was born on New Year's Eve, 1926, Wool's Orphanage, London, where I stayed until I received my Hogwarts letters, and returned to ever summer until I was sixteen, after which I made my own way."
He flicked his eyes to Harry, who was staring at him, riveted. He didn't have to force a mild frown onto his face, or the darkness to his eyes, he only allowed it to manifest where it would normally stay hidden.
"I hated it there," he said, coldly. "I was always...different to the other children, and disliked because of it...Mrs Cole was a rather devout woman, you see...needless to say, I had full control of my magic and any accidental magic bursts by the time I was six years old."
"They punished you?" Harry asked, softly, sympathy in his eyes.
"They tried. They quickly learnt not to," he smiled. Harry wetted his lips, nervously, his throat bobbing.
"You hurt them." This time, it wasn't a question.
"Of course," he replied simply. "It was self-defence."
"But you enjoy hurting people," Harry pressed. He met the boy's gaze full on, unwavering.
"Yes," he stated. "I am sadistic - that's another word for someone who likes hurting people," he added. There was an extreme cautiousness in the other's eyes now, and he leant forwards slightly. "Regardless, they deserved it for the way they treated me. Just as your muggles deserve to suffer for the pain they have wrought on you - you talk and care about morality? Then their actions were immoral."
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the light clatter of their knives and forks.
"Does this story normally win you the pity vote?" Harry questioned, quietly. Tom's eyes narrowed, dangerously.
"This is my life, Potter," he hissed, sharply, in reprimand and reminder.
Harry's eyes shot to him again.
"Sorry," the boy muttered, after a moment, sounding like he meant it, despite his near inaudible intonation. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, before shooting Harry a dazzling smile.
"It does normally work rather well though," he said. Harry stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head, something like incredulous mirth on his features.
"You're unbelievable."
Tom's smirk only widened, before he turned serious once more.
"Can you understand my worldview a bit better from this?" he asked. Harry looked at him again, posture tensing marginally.
"You mean hating muggles?"
"Yes."
"I..." the boy frowned, eyes growing shadowed with thought. "I can understand it," he murmured finally. "But I still don't agree with it."
"What, you think children deserve to be treated as we were? You would condemn others to our fate?"
"No!" Harry snapped, fiercely, before wetting his lips again. "But you can't just hate a whole race of people for the actions of a few-"
"-Muggles are all alike, they hate anything different, they view it as a threat,"Tom stated, flatly.
Harry looked at him for a moment, expression uncommonly hard, before he continued.
"You...you say you're doing this for people like us, but...I've spent my whole life being judged on something I can't control-
"-Exactly, and it's not fair," he said, passionately, soothingly. Harry ignored him but for the smallest hitch in his relatively composure.
"-but you're treating them the same way."
Tom went utterly still, staring at the boy, his thoughts racing, suddenly strangely jarred. Harry bit his lip, talking again, resolutely meeting his gaze.
"You treat muggles in the same way...they can't help not having magic...all the purebloods do with the muggleborns...you do this with the muggles. You hate them because they're not like you-"
That was enough.
"-No," he interrupted, icily, his aura growing oppressive. "I hate them because they are inferior filth, and before you start defending them - consider. We can do everything they can do, but they can't do magic, that makes them the inferior race. The natural conclusion, from a scientific perspective, is to moderate the inferior species to strengthen our own."
"You ever heard of X-men?" Harry questioned, before pausing. "No, no you wouldn't have...but it's the same concept. There are mutants, X-men, who have special powers and then two sides among them, the heroes with Professor X and the villains with Magneto. You remind me of Magneto. He said pretty much the same thing."
"You could have just gone straight out and called me Hitler," Tom replied, his eyebrows raised. Harry glared.
"Purism. Same thing. It's not right. We're all humans, muggles might have potential you're ruining-"
"-cockroaches arguably have potential we don't know about, doesn't mean you wouldn't call in pest control," Tom fired back, wondering when this discussion had got so...out of hand.
"-Muggleborns," Harry stated, decisively. He looked at the younger, who promptly elaborated. "Well...muggles have the potential to become muggleborns, magic. Surely you're just leading the wizarding world to extinction...there are more muggleborns than purebloods-"
"-That," Tom cut in, smoothly. "Is because overall there are more muggles. Two magic parents are still much more likely to create a magic child then two muggles. There are just more muggles, which is why the statistics seem screwed."
Harry was staring at him again, fists clenched.
"And how are you going to get more magic people if the main source is still muggles, even if it is due to there being more of them. Hermione was asking Ron about it once, genetics and stuff - she's really clever-" Tom seriously doubted that, especially in comparison to his own intellect. "-and apparently if you don't get fresh blood, you're just going to grow weaker as a species. Like, incesty. Webbed feet and lots of gross stuff."
"I have no intention of committing muggle genocide, Harry," he said, after a moment. "Clearly, you should learn my worldviews better before you start making assumed criticisms of them."
"Voldemort hates and kills muggles. Everyone knows that," the boy replied, stubbornly.
"Like everyone automatically knows the real Harry Potter?" Tom returned, softly. "Pest control is not necessarily genocide."
"Pest control!" Harry spluttered. "They're people! Humans! Not pests."
"Pest," Tom drawled. "A damaging organism, or an annoying person or thing. By my reckoning, that clearly puts muggles in the status of pests."
Harry stared at him further, seeming troubled. He studied the boy in turn.
"How about I make you a deal?" Tom questioned; this could be exactly the opening he needed.
"You always make deals, Riddle. Do I actually have a choice in the matter?" Harry asked, that iciness back in his tone.
"Well, for it to be a deal, yes, obviously," he replied, patiently. "They do tend to require two people."
"What's the deal?" Harry bit out. He nearly smiled, taking a sip of his wine.
"Let me teach you about my worldview, listen, learn, and then - if you still find your criticisms valid - I swear to listen to them and we will have this conversation again, sound fair?"
"What do I get out of that?" Harry returned suspiciously. Tom's eyes gleamed.
"Information, power...know thy enemy...you certainly don't lose anything."
Harry eyed him for a moment, clearly trying to think this out, what loopholes were available to them both. Once Harry understood, really understood, he wouldn't be able to go back to where he was before.
Even if he ultimately declined,the seeds of doubt would be cast.
Moreover, Tom knew he was right, so it was more plausible that - in the end - Harry wouldn't decline. Besides, he said he'd listen to Harry's criticisms, but they probably wouldn't be valid, and he had no commitment to act upon them. It would only bring to child closer to him, as he took the role of mentor.
To even his own surprise, he was actually looking forward to this, shaping the boy, his horcrux. That was probably why Harry didn't seem so bad as the others...he was merely recognising the shard within the other. There was nothing else to it.
Certainly, he could never afford to discard the boy due to said soul, and so he was...attached, no, invested, but it wasn't anything so disgusting as sentiment.
"I'll listen," the boy agreed, finally.
Tom smiled in response, content in his trap.
"Then we have an accord."
Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore arrived at the village of Little Hangleton with high hopes.
A/N: Not my best chapter, I know, but I feel like I have a slightly better grasp on these characters and where I'm going with this story again. Certainly, I already have two possible endings planned - one for a shorter story (though not exactly short haha) and another for a really long one that could be split into two parts. We shall see.
I hope, nonetheless, that you enjoyed this. Thank you for the reviews :) Now I must return to revision.