Never Deprive A Growing Boy Of His Food: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived, but what people don't know is that this fame came with a price, as does all magic. Well now, Harry is ravenously hungry for the chance to repay this price, even if it means consuming everything in his path.

Author's Note: So, in a scary, brown-trousers-time twist of fate, it looks like Halloween has come early: now, the monster is loose and there's no turning away or caging him up again.

So, if you're someone who is going to dislike this story, you should be running.

My monster, like our not-hero, is HUNGRY!

Recommended Reads: The Dark Prince: Rebirth by TheDarkLover22, A Tale of Wings and Fangs by Okaze, The Necromancer and The Darkening Of Your Soul by MaeglinYedi, A Darker Shade of Magic by TheSonofTartarus77, Bonded, Dark Lord Potter and Damaged Raven by JustBored21, Worthy of Magic by Raul Fictitious, Harry Potter: The Apex God by spartankiller117, Kill me if you can by PercyPendragon3, Seventh Horcrux by Emerald Ashes, Beautifully Broken by Jessiikaa15 and Birth of a Nightmare Man, The Nightmare Man, Fractured Time and The Nightmare Man's Journey by Tiro

Key Pairing: Harry/TBD

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: Home Cooked Meals

'Hungry…'

Sometimes, when the night grew still and the sky turned dark, four-year-old Harry James Potter, known as Freak – among other names he probably shouldn't have been able to identify – could have sworn blind that his tummy was actually talking to him.

For as long as he could remember, this small boy, with a pair of rickety, broken glasses fished out of the bin, and clothes that could have housed a nobleman's wedding, had always known the cursed touch of hunger's demonic embrace.

An irony, really: whereas his morbidly-obese cousin, Dudley Dursley, was able to grow thick, fat and juicy-looking as he piled on stone after stone with each passing day, Harry got thinner, ganglier and less-appealing to behold as he might as well have shed stone after stone with each passing day. Worse than that, if such a thing were possible, was his Uncle, Vernon Dursley, who seemed to increase by the weight of a baby elephant with each passing day, though not before yelling at Harry, blaming him if things went wrong.

More-often than not, he had too much of his grown-up drink and ending up making Harry hurt, bleed and scream in pain before throwing him into his cupboard under the stairs to, as the fat man said, hopefully do us all a favour and die like the freakish mutt you are!

So, as was previously-stated, there, in the darkness of his cupboard, Harry ached, hurt, moaned, tried to sleep and, more-often than not, imagined he could hear the aching, demanding voice of his little, bruised belly demanding to be fed.

The sound of the monster seemed especially eager on this one night, however, as Harry himself noticed, as it snarled at him, like a ghost emerging from somewhere deep inside of him, its voice soft, but demanding as it whispered in his ear.

'Hungry…feed me…feed…so hungry…let me eat…let me be full…feed me…hungry…'

"I…I can't…" whimpered Harry, curling in on himself, a part of his childish mind secretly wondering if it was actually possible for him to eat himself, if only to quiet the monster in his tummy.

Then, as he sniffled, trying to put the monster inside of him back to sleep, Harry's eyes widened when, all of a sudden, like an angel descending from Heaven – or possibly rising up from Hell – something broke through his pain. Something weirdly-yummy to smell, but, at the same time, buried so far down that he almost didn't notice it, if not for the smell that tickled his nostrils and made his mouth water and his tummy rumble.

'Food…'

"Yes," said Harry, no longer afraid.

Now, it was almost like the monster inside of him had taken over, drawing him out of his hunched position and, instead, pulling him towards a spot at the furthest end of his cupboard, where the lowest step on the staircase overhead would have probably cut his skull open had he sat up with a start after some scary nightmare.

Now, the smallest space was pulling Harry in, drawing him towards a smell that was stuffed down under the old coats, the threadbare mattress and even the generously-given clothes that Harry had tried to fight off wearing.

'Food…find the food…feed me…hungry…please, Harry…eat…please…do anything if you eat…'

It was weird, crazy and just a little funny, but, as Harry moved towards the dark space, he felt a soft giggle rise up in him as he asked, "Will you let me sleep, Mister Monster?"

'Yes…I promise…just eat…feed you, Harry…feed…feed…'

Pulling back the edge of the mattress, Harry's eyes narrowed when he saw the smell that he'd noticed seemed to be coming from some kind of scrunched-up ball, which looked frayed and pale in places, as well as covered in patches that Harry could tell had come from the heat of his cupboard, if not the passage of time.

'There, there, there, Harry…eat…please…hungry…give you power if you eat…'

Power?

Well, even to a four-year-old boy's mind, the idea of power was so enticing, especially if it meant he wouldn't be hungry anymore.

Picking up the strange ball, Harry lifted it to his nose, sniffing it, just to be sure that this was the source of the nice smell.

A warm scent, like freshly-cooked, piping-hot and dripping treacle sponge flooded the boy's nostrils.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry shoved the ball into his mouth, chewing and chomping on it happily before he gulped, savouring the feel of it sliding down his throat. Once that was done, Harry moved to bend down next to the edge of the cupboard, where he nibbled at the frayed carpet there, as though believing there might be more hidden underneath.

When he found a second ball, with what he dimly recognised as his Aunt and Uncle's address, as well as some weird symbol he'd never seen before, Harry hungrily wolfed down the second ball as quickly and as ravenously as he had consumed the first.

Then, with his little tummy groaning in fullness, Harry fell back and burped lightly.

'Thank you, Harry.'

"You're welcome, Mister Monster," giggled Harry, patting his tummy as he added, "Now, 'member; you said I could have Power…"

'And you will, Little One,' replied the voice, now sounding much softer, warmer and almost-amusingly proud of what Harry had done, as the voice went on. 'Wait for me…I will come…until then, sleep, and let your body metabolise the yummy food you just ate all up like a good boy…goodnight, my little one…'

"Nighty-night, Mister Monster…"

As Harry succumbed to sleep, however, the last thing he was made aware of was a soft voice, the voice of Mister Monster, whispering to him as he fell into a sea of dreams.

'Call me Tom…and when we meet, if it is what you wish, my hungry boy…you may even call me…Daddy…'

"Daddy…" whispered Harry, succumbing to sleep's embrace while he licked his lips and rubbed his tummy, happy to have finally had a nice meal.

Food

At the same time that Harry slept, he had no idea of the long-term consequences of his actions.

First, as his tummy digested what the small, hungry boy had no idea was, in fact, a scrunched-up letter and a discarded, and just as scrunched-up, envelope that had been solely addressed to his Aunt and Uncle, the magical enchantments contained within those two objects – enchantments that had been designed using Harry's blood, intended to keep him safe, which actually meant keep nosy eyes away until the time was right for the Greater Good – flared up, flooding the small boy's once-hungry body with rushes of power.

Power that slowly worked to heal all the damages done to Harry by his loving relatives while, at the same time, outside of the cupboard…indeed, outside the house itself, a thin veil of magical energy suddenly froze over, as though it had been hit by a cold wave measuring at absolute zero, before it shattered and disintegrated into nothingness.

Whatever remained of these disintegrated sparkles seemed to drift in on a non-existent breeze, before they found Harry sleeping in his cupboard, smiling softly while his small hand rubbed at his better-feeling belly.

When he breathed in as he took a breath in his sleeping state, Harry didn't notice how the cloud of sparkles suddenly flew into his mouth, making the small boy moan in delight as he smacked his lips and, gulping softly, he shifted in his sleep, while he licked his lips in contentment, his eyelids flickering as he subconsciously patted his tummy.

"Mmm…yummy…want more…it all goes in my tummy…more…please…"

But there was no more.

Well…no more sparkles, anyway…

Food

At the same time that the last of the sparkles digested away in the belly of the beast…err…boy, far away from Harry, a series of unusual-looking instruments suddenly froze over, kicking up sparks before, seconds later, they resumed their duties, as though nothing had happened.

And, owing to the late hour, not one person, nor phoenix, nor hat, nor portrait, noticed anything had gone wrong.

Certainly not the so-called benevolent master of the house…

Food

He had done it.

The blood wards had fallen.

Dumbledore's plan was going to hell in a hand basket and that, as far as one Tom Marvolo Riddle was concerned, was very good indeed.

And the best part?

It would all be thanks to the so-called Saviour of the Magical World; a lonely, ravenous little boy whom – ever since he had worked his Dark Magic and used one of his Horcruxes to pull himself back into a fully-corporeal form, before seeking out the little hellion – Tom Riddle, alias the Dark Lord Voldemort, had known held a very old, very powerful and, yes, very dark secret.

One that now, thanks to the Muggles and a twist of fate even Tom hadn't seen coming, he was able to nurture and nourish.

Preferably without ending up on his little demon's dinner menu himself along the way.

As he watched the house, laughing on the inside at the irony of how a much darker force slept within those walls than even Albus Dumbledore could hope to conquer, Tom lifted a hand to his chest and rubbed at his heart, more than aware of his protégé's happy, content sensations.

Not to mention how his small body now savoured the taste of magic and, as a result, gave birth to the almost-human desire for more!

"Sleep, little Magic Eater," whispered Voldemort, his eyes flashing red as he stood beneath a street lamp located opposite Number Four, Privet Drive. "As shocking as this development may be, the fact of the matter is…soon, I will give you all you can eat…my young friend…all you can EAT!"

Then, the Dark Lord vanished in a plume of black magic, knowing full well he had plans to make and a victory to celebrate.

Plus, he also had a son to prepare to receive, and, again, hope that Daddy wouldn't end up on the menu along the way…

Wow, talk about spooky and scary: Harry's become a monster, the Main Monster is still alive and, apparently, he now wishes Harry to feed like a King whilst being the Prince of Darkness: oh boy, what has the old coot created this time?

Also, why does Harry have the power to, apparently, eat magic? Where did it come from and why was Tom so surprised to find it out before finding his way to the heart of our not-a-hero, by passing through his stomach?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Harry has a visitor: a particularly-unusual, but welcoming visitor, who has a little treat for him; also, the Dursleys learn the hard way exactly what a Freak looks like, while Harry discovers what a family looks like…albeit the worst, scariest, most-terrifying family since…ever!

Please Read and Review

AN: Tom

Also, before anyone points out about my rule concerning Harry's 'rescuer' being surprised, as you'll see when Tom explains everything to Harry, he has known of Harry's hunger for quite some time, but it has taken time, not only to put plans in motion, but find a way to help the boy get a taste – literally – of what he's capable of.

So, for now, the 'reaction' from Tom is an off-screen reaction, but, again, you'll get the full story soon enough.

Oh, and FYI, Tom is still Ralph Fiennes; whether or not I give him another, different-looking, probably-younger portrayal to hide in plain sight is something I haven't decided yet;