Tom did keep the glamours Dumbledore had initially masked him with. It made him look the monster he wanted everyone to believe he was. It was intimidating, inhuman, mutated, and not even the Death Eaters had the gall to look in his bleeding red eyes.
The greatest part about it was that it was of his own free will.
Unlike this.
"Is it not unwise to meet your greatest foe like this?" Tom asked. He was situated quite comfortably in the Malfoy Manor, much to the honor of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and the horror of one young Draco who was coming to realize that he really didn't want to follow in his parents' footsteps.
Tom was slowly working on the boy, making sure he saw the worst of what the Death Eaters did in their spare time. He even told Lucius and Narcissa to make Draco watch what they did to their own victims. Lucius had done so without pause. Narcissa, deprived woman that she was, had loved her son and his innocence enough to try and put up a fight.
Good mother. But Tom had still had to punish her for her impudence. Just a Cruciatus Curse; punishments had been so much worse in the past when Dumbledore had been in control.
Dumbledore sat down at the writing table, looking old and giving off an air of something just as feeble.
"So you've come back, finally."
"I am sure you have been planning for this."
Dumbledore frowned at him. "I made it so easy for you. I employed your underlings, I confiscated several objects that would have helped you and brought them to where you could get them, and I even let Barty Crouch Jr. turn the Tri-Wizard Cup into a portkey."
He could feel Dumbledore probing at his mind and openly laughed at the fool.
"I have grown stronger in these past years, Albus. Time away from you turned out to be just what I needed."
Dumbledore expertly hid his displeasure and, instead, calmly replied, "But you're still not strong enough to kill me, Tom."
He allowed his smirk to fade slowly. "Not yet."
"You'll never be strong enough to kill me," Dumbledore reiterated.
"Not as you are," he agreed. "What are you here for?"
"I came to congratulate you, of course. You've accepted your destiny."
"I am sure I do you very proud."
"I just have one question."
"Of course you do." Tom's voice was heavy with disdain.
Dumbledore's eyes drilled into him. "Why didn't you kill him?"
"In case you have forgotten, I did. I heard that you held a spectacular eulogy for him."
"I meant Harry."
"Did he not tell you what happened? Or have you forgotten? You are far too old to keep playing these games."
"You wasted time instead of killing him outright," Dumbledore snapped at him. It was the harshest tone Tom had ever heard him use. "You're smarter than that."
Tom wisely bit back his reply and kept his shields strong as Dumbledore battered at his mind, trying to get in and understand what Tom was thinking.
"You seem to want the Boy-Who-Lived… to not live any longer," he husked. "Why is that, Albus? What could you possibly gain from his death?"
He already knew the answer to that. And, for once, he knew Dumbledore didn't know that he knew.
If Tom were to kill Harry, the horcrux stored inside of him would perish; anyone else and the horcrux would possibly live on, maybe even Harry with it. Horcruxes were particular on how they were defeated like that. Tom had created the horcrux; thus, he could destroy it. Then there was basilisk fang; that could do the trick, as he had found out in Harry's second year. Godric Gryffindor's sword would most likely be another solution. If Dumbledore managed to get rid of all of his horcruxes, he could kill Tom, once and for all. No glory shared.
The Boy-Who-Lived would be a distant memory, a lucky accident, compared to Dumbledore if he were to succeed. Dumbledore had purposely built him up to be a far worse, or, in twisted terms, better Dark Lord than even Grindelwald. His final fall would be magnificent and Dumbledore would never be forgotten.
A brilliant plan, no doubt.
Except Dumbledore most likely thought that Tom didn't know Harry was one of his horcruxes.
There was an echoing hiss through the room. Nagini slithered around Tom's feet and then reared her slim head up to glare at Dumbledore.
"Your final horcrux?" Dumbledore guessed.
"Would you like to find out?" Tom asked blandly.
Horcruxes had a way of defending themselves. Inanimate objects manifested illusions or illnesses. The living horcruxes, though, adapted. Harry was incredibly strong and had many of Tom's abilities.
Nagini had become poisonous. Lethally so. Her intelligence had risen above that of an average boa and she understood human speech, even though she could not reiterate it.
He wished for nothing more than for Nagini to lunge right then and there and tear into Dumbledore.
However, he was content with that she kept her mental shields strong; all familiar animals were capable of occlumency, though most chose to keep their minds open to their masters. Dumbledore had been known to be a stronger legilimen than most, however, and far less respectful.
"Difficult, is it not, Albus?" he asked after three minutes of Nagini and Dumbledore's staring at each other. "How much have you found out from her?"
Dumbledore sat back, breaking eye contact, and Tom knew he had learned nothing.
"One more question," Dumbledore said.
"There is always one more question."
"What made you change your mind?"
"About what? You are going to have to be clearer, I can not read your mind." He wasn't going to try to yet. Performing legilimency was known to weaken its counterpart occlumency. If he threw his mind at Dumbledore, Dumbledore could respectively do the same.
Tom had too many secrets at the moment to give them up that easily and he already knew all he wanted to know about Dumbledore. First and foremost, that he needed to die.
"You were so adamant about not becoming a Dark Lord. What changed your mind?"
"I am sure you expect me to answer you, as if I have no sense of self-preservation. However, my secrets will remain just that – mine and secret."
Dumbledore stared at him and, again, a pounding headache was born.
Some time later, the Headmaster left without learning a thing.