Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort. written for @tomarrymortevents evil purge. prompt: International Tea Day
“Well he's the fittest regular we have,” Ginny says, “but he's well—” Her lips twist in contemplation.
“He's nutters,” Ron chimes in.
“But harmless most likely,” Ginny says reassuringly.
Ron shrugs. “I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he's killed before.”
Harry’s eyes widen. “What makes you say that, though? Like what does he do?”
Harry took this job knowing that customer service could be unpredictable, but there was nothing in his employee handbook covering serving tea to potential serial killers.
Ron and Ginny exchange looks before breaking out in eerily identical grins.
“That's something you should see for yourself,” Ginny says.
Harry has never been the type to worry too much, so he's not sure why he feels so apprehensive over the next few days. Each time the little bell over the door rings, his head automatically snaps in that direction.
The way Ron and Ginny snicker each time makes Harry consider that this could be some elaborate joke that they play on all the new hires—making him believe that a serial killer might climb in his window if he doesn't brew someone’s earl grey strong enough.
In fact, Harry has nearly convinced himself that the whole thing is a scare tactic by his fourth day on the job. He hears the bell announcing a new arrival to the shop, but he doesn't immediately turn from where he's cleaning out a coffee pot.
“Be with you in a moment,” Harry calls out cheerfully.
Behind him, there's an impatient huff.
Quickly, Harry replaces the clean pot and presses the brew button on the coffee machine. Then he turns on his heel to face the customer, wearing his best ‘I live to serve’ smile.
“Hi,” he says. “Welcome to Honeydukes!”
The man in front of him only stares.
Immediately, Harry knows this must be the man Ron and Ginny were talking about. Because he is by far the fittest person Harry has seen walk through the front door—with smooth waves of glossy dark hair and a jawline sculpted by the gods. But there's also something obviously off about him.
There's the intense eye contact that sends a chill up Harry’s spine, to begin with. Also, his choice of attire is strange—namely the long black cloak trailing down his back with a silver snake shaped pendant at his throat.
“Er,” Harry says, his smile slipping, “is there something I can get started for you?”
“You,” the man breathes. “It's you.”
His eyes, which only a moment ago Harry would have sworn were brown, are now a bright shade of crimson. Some sort of colour changing contacts, maybe?
The man is speaking as if they are old friends—or maybe old nemesises— but Harry is certain he has never seen him before in his life. After all, he doesn't think he would have easily forgotten any previous encounters with someone this unique.
Harry taps the name tag pinned to his apron. “I'm Harry,” he says. “I only started working here a few days ago. I don't think we’ve met.”
The man laughs but it's not the sort of charming chuckle that would be expected of someone with a face like that. It's high, cold, and villainous.
Harry understands why Ron thinks this man has probably killed someone before.
“I suppose it comes as no surprise you do not recognise me,” the man says. “I am sure you are far too weak of mind to carry your consciousness across realms.”
Harry frowns slightly. He has no idea what his bloke is even talking about really, but he naturally objects at being called weak of mind.
“Harry Potter,” the man hisses, leaning over the counter like a snake preparing to strike. “I am your beginning and your end. Your past, present, and future. I am Lord Voldemort.”
Harry’s breath hitches at the sudden proximity. His hands twitch at his sides. His job has been alright so far, so he hates the idea of being sacked for decking this weirdo across in his absurdly perfect face.
But then Lord Voldemort moves away, a deranged smile still stretched across his face. “Lord Voldemort demands a large Earl Grey tea.”
Harry swallows and nods. “Sure,” he says weakly. “Would you care for milk or sugar?”
