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An audible creak echoed throughout the house. There were the sounds of hurried footsteps, and then screams, both from a woman and a man, rang out. A sharp gunshot sound pierced the air, followed by the sickening noise of blood and bone splattering across the walls. Tom smiled; murdering people in cold blood had been something the high schooler had always liked doing. He blew out some smoke from the top of the gun, and pocketed it. He’d call his murder accomplice over in a few minutes to clean up the evidence.
Then, there was the sudden sound of a baby crying, his cries loud and unpleasant. Tom thought he was just imagining it, and the sound just came from outside, but as the cries became hoarser and hoarser, he groaned, having to kill another person. And of course he didn’t realize the people on his hit list had a child. He should’ve at least consulted the old man, just before he came in there to kill the Potters. He normally didn’t kill children, but this was a special case. He looked at the bloody mess, formally Mr. and Mrs. Potter. At least his initial job was done. Now, time to erase the evidence.
He creeped up the stairs, his gun already in hand and his mindset prepared to commit infanticide. Of course he’d killed children before; he actually found some satisfaction out of it. He’d always hated children, even as a kid himself, locked up in Wool’s Orphanage with that insufferable matron. He was nearing the bedroom door now. Any second, there would be the blood of a baby on the wall, and he would be walking away with more money in his pockets. The baby’s crying grew louder and louder; Tom thought his ears would bleed already.
He approached the bedroom the baby sounded like he’d be in, and pushed open the door slowly, cautiously lifting his gun. The baby was still squirming, until he took notice of Tom, and his crying started to cease. Maybe he thought Tom was some relative of his parents’, because he started to stare at Tom silently, and he stared back at the baby with the same unbelievable look shining in his eyes.
Tom hesitantly brought the gun up, leveling it with the baby’s eyes, and he could see himself and the gun mirrored in those green eyes, a little sparkle of curiosity inside of those eyes. And then, the baby gurgled what Tom suspected to be a happy laugh. Tom flinched in disgust, before he remembered what he was supposed to do. He pointed the gun at the baby again, his finger frozen cold on the trigger.
“You’re only a baby,” Tom muttered, the gun still unfired. He came closer to the baby, and pressed the cold metal of the gun against the baby’s nose. The baby didn’t realize how close to death he was. The baby touched the gun once, and made another baby noise, similar to the laugh that he had bubbled up earlier. Tom narrowed his eyes at the baby, who was making his hands frozen in one position, when in the past he hadn’t thought twice before killing a baby.
What was so special about this little brat that the others didn’t have? Maybe because he’d been uninformed of this specific little piece of shit? Tom lowered the gun, and furrowed his eyebrows at the baby.
“Stop making fun of me,” Tom snapped. The baby still stared up at him with an unwavering expression, not understanding a word of what Tom was saying. He still had plenty of ammo left, didn’t he?
So shoot him, you idiot!
He didn't. And he didn't know why. The baby just felt so compelling. Through his half-breakdown, the baby, still clueless, shouted something in gibberish.
The thought of the child going to an orphanage like the one where he grew up in was quite painful to uphold. His dealer had told him that Mrs. Potter had only one remaining relative, Petunia Dursley, and he was warned to watch out for them. Would they come and find Harry here? Would they take care of him? Question after question kept on coming. He knew there was only one answer he wanted. Tom picked up the small baby into his hands gently, grabbing the two small wolf plushies in the bed.
“Moo-y?”
Tom stared down at the child, confused. “What?”
“Moo-y. Pafoo.”
Tom assumed he was referencing the two wolf plushies. He held them out for the baby to grab, and the baby latched onto them tightly, hugging them close. Tom looked at the room for possibly any hint of the baby’s name, when he saw, written in ink, Harry J. Potter in neat cursive.
“So Harry’s the name, huh?” Tom said.
“Moo-y? Pafoo?”
Tom ignored Harry, who was playing with the wolf plushies on his shoulder. There were a couple of photographs scattered around the room. One had the Potters, all three of them in it, and an old lady next to them. Another had four men in it, one of which included Mr. Potter. And those four men seldom were in the photos plastered on the wall.
“Where Moo-y? Pafoo?”
Harry blinked at Tom. Tom still didn't understand who he was talking about.
“Moo-y? Pafoo?” When sudden tears started welling up in Harry's eyes, Tom glanced around, hoping to find some hint of whom the baby was talking about. He pointed to the four men.
“Uh— are these your people?”
“No Moo-y? No Pafoo?” Tom supposed the baby had thought he was a friend of his parents. He pursed his lips and roughly patted the baby on the back.
“Don’t worry. I'll take you somewhere better.” That was a promise.
He secured his pistol deeper into his pocket, and as for the blood on his shirt…he would usually be changing by now, but had lost his change of clothes halfway going to the Potters’. Tom would just need to be quick and leave as fast as possible. Baby Harry looked back at the photographs. He pointed to one and shouted something.
“Are you serious?” Tom hissed. He went over to the photo frame and took it off its nail, along with several more. He sighed, and ran to the window again. He unmatched the window, and he slowly opened it, getting a view of the outside. He jumped out the window, catching his fall with the tree branch halfway, and leaped down silently. Harry was still on his shoulder, clapping slowly and laughing.
“Alright, I take no more applause.” Tom pressed the baby close to his chest. “Now, let's go.”
When the accomplice came in to clean up the evidence, he was surprised to see that Tom had already left, along with the Potters’ baby.