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Light trickled through the bars of a window far above. Not even the tallest of inmates would have been able to reach the rust coated metal. Yet that didn’t stop the cold. Sirius watched as the first few flakes of snow began to drift through the barred window. It had only taken him two weeks to give up on the idea that Dumbledore was coming. It had now been two months.
A small whimper drew Sirius’ attention from the unreachable window. He shook himself, attempting to shake some warmth into his blackened fingers. He took a few steps toward the only thing that was keeping him with any sense of reality. Any idea of what day it was or how long he had been here.
Harry
A baby born not seventeen months before. A baby of James and Lily. His best friend and his best rival. Or so it had been. But Harry now, belonged to Sirius too. In magic and in blood. A ritual on the day of the baby’s birth had ensured it. That even if Harry already had two parents it could only be a good thing for him to have a third. Blood adoption.
That was how the baby had ended up here in the first place. Two parents dead, his magic had screamed at him. Demanded that he take the baby that he had claimed. Yet in his maddened state, his grief overtaking him, he had only been able to clutch the baby to him, while he ran to kill the one that had betrayed them.
Sirius may love the boy unconditionally, his presence his only reason to go on. But that didn’t mean that Sirius didn’t regret his actions. A prison was no place for a child, especially one filled with the worst creatures imaginable. But Sirius wouldn’t let them touch him. He would give up his life first. With no way to soothe the boy, Sirius did the only thing that he could to stop the whines.
Sirius leapt into his animagus form and padded to the small baby wrapped in thin prison blankets, laying on a yellow mattress. Curling around the little boy, Sirius tried to give some warmth to the baby who deserved a better life. It was all he could do.
Of course the guards, ex-aurors that sometimes patrolled the halls, giving meals and provisions, had tried to get Harry out of there. Get him to a safe place. But they had been laughed off. No one wanted the job that they had, all of them forced there to avoid a public scandal or as punishment from a senior official. No one would listen to them. They just laughed them off, claiming them as crazy as the inmates that they were supposed to guard. The only thing that they could do was try and relieve some of the suffering that the baby was going through.
But they could only do so much. Could only give what the prison had. Nothing could be smuggled in, nothing extra given. They did what they could, but it was not a lot. Harry’s shelter was in a darkened corner of Sirius’ own cell, a hash of blankets and cut up mattress as well as a semi-formed canopy made from torn prison robes. It was the most comfort that he could offer the baby.
As the screams started, a Dementor sweeping down the corridors, Sirius huddled closer to the whimpering baby. Maybe a life as Dumbledore’s tool would have been a better life.
Time passed, not that anyone could really tell. It was a mixture of nightmares and screams. Snow freezing on bars and the twinkling of light through a window too far away. A strong wind and the pattering of rain on blackened bricks.
It seemed as though it was just another day in the dark prison that was filled with pain. But Sirius knew differently. Guards they may be, but they kept track of the days that went by. Today was Harry’s birthday. He was three. The day may have been filled with screams, Dementors torturing and feeding on the inmates. But in the evenings, there was some respite.
The Dementors left, guarding the building for the night. That was the time when they could, at least a little, celebrate Harry’s birthday. Aurors would be coming around, serving the one meal of the day as well as a small bar of chocolate to keep the inmates from dying; or at least giving the illusion of trying.
All the inmates knew of Harry by now. How couldn’t they? A baby amongst a group of the worst criminals. The rumours had spread quickly. Yet somehow, even amongst the people that had caused the worst acts of atrocity, the little three year old was soothing to them. Calming even. In a twisted and confusing sort of way.
All the inmates seemed to have adopted him. Harry could easily squeeze through the bars of the cells, the magic seeming to wash over him without a trace. Harry was not really an inmate. It seemed that the magic of the prison did not hold him to the same standards. Harry had taken to visiting the other prisoners, first on his hands and knees and later on unsteady feet, clinging to the bars for support. But only at night. The day was far too dangerous. But now that night had fallen it was safe.
So as the guards came around, they didn’t mention as they handed extra rations of chocolate. They passed through without a word. Only giving a sad smile to the boy that did not deserve to grow up in a place like this.
Over the next hour as prisoners woke to scoff down their meals of slop and savour their chocolate. As they did so, presents also began to trickle in, through bars and pulled on strings across the floor. Some prisoners called Harry over, their cells too far away to be able to send the present, or merely wanting to give it to Harry in person.
Harry was soon the proud new owner of; a new necklace, that Sirius was sure was made of hair and teeth, what seemed to be some sort of flute carved from the bones of something Sirius would rather not think about, a blanket that was blessedly not made of human skin, a piece of the foam mattress that seemed to have been shaped into what looked like a dog and miraculously some rather dirty paper with a cracked quill and a third of a bottle of ink.
Harry, in turn, toddled around, his new gifts on show, sharing out the chocolate that he had just received from the guilty guards. There wasn’t enough for everyone. But enough for those that really needed it, Harry didn’t need it, after all. The Dementors didn’t seem to affect the newly turned three year old. Sirius was sure it was something to do with the dark magic that had swirled around Harry for the past year and a half. He was in a place that was filled with the darkest of beings. That had to affect a child in some way. Maybe it had got into him, changed him irrevocably. Sirius sometimes worried about his son.
As Harry approached Bellatrix’s cell his smile widened. The woman had a fondness for the little boy. He was too small for his age and she didn’t think he’d ever be able to have the bath that he so desperately needed, but he was still perfect. He slipped through the bars of the cell, giving Bellatrix a hug. Then, in words barely formed he thanked her for the necklace before handing her a square of chocolate in return. As she had said, perfect. She patted his head and then sent him to finish his rounds.
She would see him tomorrow for his lessons. But for now it was his birthday and he deserved an evening to have what little fun it was that he could have in a place like this. Some of the inmates had taken to teaching the little boy some of the skills that he would need if he ever got out of here. Not that they were sure he would. It was at least a way to pass the time.
It had been three days since at least one prisoner had escaped this wretched place. That gave Sirius a little hope. Maybe he would be able to get Harry out soon. He desperately hoped so. His son had turned six, last month, yet the boy looked more like a four year old.
It was only three days that Sirius had watched the prisoner had escaped. It was not obvious, couldn’t have been. But the Mrs Crouch that had entered her cell had not been the same one that had left. The hand that Mr Crouch held tightly on the neck of the woman had not been there on the way in. The woman, evidently Barty Crouch Jr, had even tried to draw his father’s attention to the small bundle of rags that was the sleeping Harry. Crouch Sr had only pulled him harder. But Harry and Sirius appreciated the attempt none the less.
Sirius looked up, pulled from his thoughts as a hissing filled the corridor that lead to his cell. He smiled. Harry was soon before the cell, hissing in delight at the small but vibrant green snake that was draped over his shoulders. No one knew where the creature had come from or how it had entered the prison. But within a second of its entry Harry had been hissing excitedly at the snake, who had proclaimed herself to be named Kaa. The two had barely been separated since.
Sirius gave a small smile to the boy as he squeezed through the bars. He was still too skinny by far. Harry was obviously returning from his lessons of the day. He had a rather extensive curriculum from a variety of teachers. Adding to his phenomenal abilities Harry was well on his way to becoming…well Sirius wasn’t quite sure. Almost all of Harry’s education consisted of Dark Magic and the boy seemed to be flourishing. Even in an environment such as Azkaban he was able to cast wandless spells on the first try. Yet it wasn’t only dark spells that he could do. The light ones that Sirius taught him seemed equally as powerful. With all the time and teachers so desperate to teach, anything to relieve the boredom, Harry probably had a more rounded education than most Hogwarts seventh years.
Sirius could not be sure what it was that would become of his son. It seemed that if given the chance he could become anything that he wanted to be. Maybe even a Dark Lord. The way that his magic seemed to caress, drawing anyone in, like a warm embrace. It had everyone ready to obey any command without question; ready to serve. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by those in the prison.
Sirius should have been worried. Should have hated the very concept that anything evil could ever touch his son. Yet as he had sat here, year upon year, with no inkling of change, his mind seemed to change. The great Dumbledore, self-proclaimed light lord, promoter of all that was good and just, had left them here. Left them here to rot, to be tortured, to die.
Yet the Dark Lord would have come. Even Bellatrix, the most insane of them all, knew with a certainty that Sirius would never be able to have, that the Dark Lord would come for them when he could. When he had the strength, then he would come for them. Maybe when he did, maybe Sirius would go with them. He was already marked as a traitor, everyone he had ever know believing the worst of him and now he had a son to care for. Why not finally become what he was being called. Why not join the Dark Lord?
Sirius wondered what his parents would have said. If only they’d have locked him up in Azkaban sooner. Maybe then he would have finally submitted to their will. Maybe he would have realised that he would never really be able to escape the fact he was a Black. That he would be marked as evil no matter his actions.
Sirius shook himself from the trail of thoughts that he had been walking down as his son began to speak. Harry was animatedly explaining the new spells that Bellatrix had been training him in. They were lessons that dark families did not teach their children until well into their teens. Yet here was a six year old perfecting them with almost no effort. Harry just seemed to pick up everything so quickly. It was miraculous.
“You know I didn’t learn the blood boiling curse till I was thirteen. I don’t think Bella learned it till she was fifteen.” Sirius smiled at his son.
Green eyes opened wide at their father’s words.
“Really?” Sirius nodded and the six year old gave a wide smile in return. The little boy’s fingers ran through the tangled mass that sat at the top of his head dancing on his toes in his excitement. The little boy rather enjoyed wondering around his tiptoes. Sirius was unsure whether it was a tactical decision or just another of Harry’s quirks.
The little boy however stopped his rather strange movements in seconds. His head tilted to the side and his eyes closed. Sirius knew exactly what was happening. His young son was talking to Tom. As if on cue Harry mentioned the voice of the Dark Lord who had been talking in Harry’s head since the boy had turned four.
“Tom says he learned at fourteen. But he didn’t even know about magic till he was eleven.”
Harry gave a smile as Sirius only nodded at the boy. It still unnerved him that a fragment of the Dark Lord’s soul was currently residing within his son’s head. But there was very little that he could do about it.
It was Harry himself who had been the one to coax the information of the identity of the soul fragment that currently resided in his head. It had taken quite a few months, with Sirius’ anxiety nearly hitting the roof. Sirius had believed that Harry had developed a rather vindictive and violent imaginary friend. With the boy telling him of Tom’s demands and recommendations in dealing with some of the less than friendly inmates. Sirius had ignored it, hoping that it was merely a passing fad, a result of Harry’s horrendous upbringing so far.
However as Harry had started to seemingly master new spells from nowhere, explaining concepts that he had never heard of and talking of theories that were beyond many of the inmates understandings, that was when Sirius had started to worry. He had demanded answers both from Harry and the voice in his head.
A horcrux. How fantastic. Was life not difficult enough already? They were locked in a prison, surrounded by death eaters and now Harry had a Dark Lord in his head. Sirius had been sure that he might as well just give up at that point. Yet as time had gone on, the Dark Lord in his son’s head was rather helpful.
It also even further endeared Harry to the Death Eaters. The fact that he could, with certainly, explain that the Dark Lord was alive. That he would come for them. That he would once again carry on his mission to change the wizarding world. To make it as it should be. It gave them hope. It gave Sirius hope. It lifted the mood of Azkaban. Just as Harry’s very presence had. The boy had brought life to a prison that had held on the condemned.
Taking himself from his contemplation, Sirius once again looked to his son.
“Why don’t we learn a spell thats a little more fun. Although you’ll have to concentrate. It’s a little tricky.”
Harry gave an enthusiastic nod. He was always ready to learn more.
“It’s a mix of two spells that your uncle once taught me.”
“Uncle Regulus?” Harry questioned.
“Right” Sirius grinned. He had come to terms with his brother and all that he was, from his years in Azkaban. He had been who he was. He had had very little choice in doing anything else. Sirius should have been a better brother.
“This spell will create a flock of birds, one glowing in every colour.” Sirius explained. “You remember birds right Harry? Kaa brought a dead one in that one time.”
Harry nodded with enthusiasm, even as Sirius felt a stab of pain in his chest at the thought that his son had never seen a bird soaring through the sky. But he pushed through it. He wanted to show his son this spell.
“Now lift your hand, there we go, that’s it, it’s a flick followed by a curve.” Sirius showed him the movement. Harry mirrored them.
“Perfect” Sirius praised. “Now, the incantation is avem de lumine. You want the curve to start with the first bird and end with the last. Give it a go.”
Harry ran through the hand movements, muttering the words a few more times before he was ready.
Without stumbling over the words, his hand movement near perfect. Soon there was a small flock of birds, made of light, flapping their wings as they flew around the cell, lighting up the darkened room, even for a few seconds.
As the birds faded, both Harry and Sirius were left with large smiles on their faces. Sirius looked to his son.
“Fantastic Harry. Beautiful.” Sirius placed a hand on the thin shoulder and placed a kiss on the mop of matted hair.
They would have spent more time together. Would have involved Tom in their conversation a little more. But it seemed that the night was over and the sun was rising over the horizon. Cold air rushed though the corridors, just as screams were ripped from raw throats. The Demetors were back.
Harry cast Sirius a pitiful glance, as the man quickly transformed into a dog. Harry stepped over to the pile of blankets and battered mattress that had become his bed. Opening his arms the dog leapt in. Harry hugged his father close and as the sun peaked through their small window, the pair of them attempted to get some sleep.
It was at the turn of the new year, when Harry had lived through half of his eighth year. That was when it happened. That was when it finally happened. There had been on whispers around the prison, of course there had. Nervous looks from the guards, murmurs in quiet corridors. But only a word here, a look of fear there. It wasn’t enough to be sure.
Tom had also had a few words to say about it. Even if he was only a part of a soul, a fragment of a self that he had once been connected to. He could still feel it. The anticipation sparked in the air. The magic dancing from a wand so far away. He could feel it. But if he knew any details he kept them to himself.
Therefore as the sun set, the end of the first day of a new year and alarms sounded, no one was really too surprised. This had been coming for a long time. Now was time to finally celebrate its arrival.
Wind howled and lightning flashed through the sky, as though protesting the arrival of one that would free those trapped behind the walls. A large bang echoed through the entire prison, the very foundations of the island shaking. Then with an almighty roar of crumbling bricks and creaking wood, the walls that had stood so strong, keeping them trapped for so long, finally crumbled.
It was as though the prison was whole one second and then half the next. The walls seemed to have vanished as a gaping hole now stood where the brick had once been. From behind the bars of a cell opposite the destruction, Harry could only stare. His eyes were wide and his mind couldn’t quite grasp what he was seeing.
The sky. There it was. Large, seemingly endless. Light so bright that it hurt, flashing through it. A grey that resembled his father’s eyes. It was beautiful. It was so beautiful. Harry couldn’t look away. This was what he had been missing.
Then with another flash of lightning flashing through the sky, a man walked though the gaping hole that had become of the walls. He stood tall, black surrounding him, his pale figure almost godly against the flashing sky.
Harry looked at the man with near reverence. The striking figure of a Dark Lord. He was beautiful.
Sirius quickly stepped forward and dragged his son away from the bars that he had clung so tightly to. Sirius may be thinking of changing his allegiance, considering taking up a new role in life. But the Dark Lord who stood mere meters away didn’t know that. That man was more likely to kill his son than listen to reason. Right now all Sirius could do was try and keep Harry safe.
So as Death Eaters swarmed through the corridors, blasting through cells and pulling out prisoners, Sirius held Harry tight and waited. It was only a matter of time. Sirius was sure that Bellatrix would not be leaving without them. From the darkened corner of their cell, they waited.
“What do you think will happen Dad?” Harry asked, his eyes never looking away from the sky so perfectly visible through the bars.
“I dont know Harry. I just hope that whatever it is, it gets us out of here.”
Harry nodded. Although he wasn’t so sure. This was the only home that he had ever known. It may be filled with pain and some of the worst kind of people. But to him this was home and they were family. The idea of a world outside. Well, it scared him. He may have heard stories and been told of the wonders the world had to offer, but it was still terrifying. Behind these walls he had known what to expect. Now, just as the walls had been, his life had been blown open.
“Sirius Black” a sneering voice behind a mask. It seemed that they had finally been noticed. “Finally putting you where you belong I see, a mutt in a cage, a…”
The voice suddenly stopped as the black eyes seemed to notice another figure in the cell. A sound that resembled a choke and a moan originated from the throat. Sirius was sure that under the mask, the face of one Severus Snape was now paler than a freshly washed sheet.
Hands came out to steady himself. Fingers clutching at the bars that imprisoned Sirius and his son. His body seemed to let out an ungodly shudder. He could only stare. So green. Eyes that seemed to sparkle. He didn’t think he would ever see those eyes again. Severus Snape felt that he might be sick.
But before he could, a cold that even a dementor could not replicate, ran up his spine. He shivered even as he stomach threatened to spill its contents. It was evident exactly who was behind him.
“What is it Severus? What did you find?” The newly returned Dark Lord hissed with malicious glee. He had rather missed the fear that his near parseltounge utterances left on he faces of those around him. The horror that tickled from them. It was delicious.
The Dark Lord pushed past his servant, still blocking his view. He blinked into the darkness, his eyes taking a second to adjust.
“Black” Voldemort spat with derision. A light supporter. How boring. Yet, as he looked for a second longer, a pair of green eyes blinked up at him. Bigger than they should have been on the gaunt and malnourished face.
“And a child.” It was nearly a question. Almost an admittance of confusion. But not quite. A small frown formed on the near perfect brow. “How intriguing.”
Harry, still held tightly by a pair of arms, leaned forward, looking into the eyes the colour of blood. His body was straining against the restraints, his whole weight on the skin limbs of his father.
“Tom” Harry whispered in awe.
That got a reaction from the ever unshakable Dark Lord. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. Then, hissing in perfect parseltounge he cursed.
‘You pathetic piece of filth. How dare you call me that.’ His face was dark. Uncaring if he was talking to a child or an adult. The words would pass without being understood anyway. They always did.
Voldemort got the reaction he was hoping for. The boy curled back, his face forcing its way into the filth of Black’s clothing. But even as he watched the subdued boy and the fearful face of the Black Lord, he realised that he couldn’t leave them here. It was evident that somehow the boy knew who he was. Had discovered his true name. He couldn’t risk the chance that he may tell someone.
“Severus” he turned to his still swaying servant. The man looked rather unwell. Voldemort did not care. “Take them back to the manor.” Severus could only give a slight nod.
After a few seconds to regain his composure, the head of Slytherin house cast a stunning spell at the two occupants of the cell. For the first time since arriving in Azkaban Sirius was knocked out cold, his son still held tightly in his arms.
From one cell and into another. Although Sirius had to admit that this cell was significantly nicer than the last one. Sirius hadn’t even been here for an hour and he was sure that the this stay would be much nicer than that of Azkaban. The fact that they were in a bedroom, a king sized bed, an ensuite bathroom. Malfoy manor was an extreme improvement. Sirius just hoped that the torture would be as nonexistence as the dirt seemed to be.
Sirius walked over to his son, looking at the small boy who was curled tightly on the floor. Maybe he would finally be able to teach his son some of what it meant to live, rather than just survive. The first step toward that was to give his son a long overdue bath.
“Harry” Sirius shook the thin shoulders, a small groan replying to him. Green eyes fluttering open. “It’s time to get up.”
Harry looked fuzzily up at his father. He was rather confused, his head still a mess from the foreign magic which had washed over him. He blinked.
“Dad?” Harry questioned.
“Yes Harry, come on, up.” Harry pushed his way to his feet. However his eyes shot down. Beneath his feet was white and fluffy. The dirt from his feet had started to stain it a mucky brown. But Harry didn’t care. He dropped back to his knees with an audible thump. Spreading his hands across a material that he had never felt before. Bouncing back underneath his fingers as he pressed the dirty digits into it.
“Dad.” His voice held only awe.
It hurt Sirius’ heart. It was only a carpet and yet the little boy was looking at it as though it were the most miraculous thing that he had ever seen. He wondered how the boy would cope with seeing the bathroom.
“I know Harry, the carpet is very pretty.” Harry gave a small nod and a smile. Still on his knees, hands still ruining the white.
“We can look more later Harry, first I think it really is time, that we have a wash.”
Sirius lead the stunned boy to the bathroom, opening the door to their first ever ensuite, the only bathroom that his son could remember seeing. Harry looked with equal bafflement at the sparkling white room. Everything was just so clean.
“A shower first, I think. Then a bath.”
Harry didn’t really know what his father was talking about. He had heard the words that his father was using. They had been tossed around here and there. But he had no real concept of understanding, not having a point of reference for the words. The only ‘showers’ that they had had at Azkaban were once a week with freezing cold water, lasting only a few minutes to rid the inmates of most of their smell. It was nothing resembling the rather scary looking contraption that stood on one wall of the room.
Sirius did not want to overwhelm Harry. Did not want to do too much too quickly. The boy was clever, but he was still only eight. All these new experiences were sure to be daunting. So Sirius took him through the process. Literally and figuratively holding the little boy’s hand.
Sirius ran shampoo though the matted hair, some attempt to get the tangles out. Sirius was sure that had the shampoo not been magical that each and every tangle would still be in his son’s hair. But even with it, it took four thorough scrubs of Harry’s hair and three of Sirius’ own before they even resembled normal looking human beings. Not to mention using half a bottle of body wash to scrub the ingrained dirt from their thin forms. Sirius was sure that more dirt had washed down the drain in the last half hour, than the house of Malfoy had seen since its creation.
As the pair exited the shower, they quickly stepped into the pre-run bath. A bath was a fully new experience for Harry. He had no idea how to swim and had never seen so much water in his life.
As the pair first stepped into the large tub, sunken into the floor, Harry clung tightly to Sirius, his arms wrapped around his neck in a death grip. However as the warm water sloshed around them, Harry, being reassured that he could easily stand in the water, he began to gain a little confidence.
Sirius had soon showed his son the joy of bubbles. The floating balls clinging to one another on the surface of the water. It soon had the little boy making a beard on his face that resembled his father’s own. Although Harry’s was far whiter and far more organised. They were laughing. Soon Harry was forming bubbles in Sirius’ own hair, pulling the overly long strands up into a mohawk, before they flopped down again.
Over the next two weeks Harry had many new experiences. Even though he and Sirius remained locked in a room, that didn’t stop the differences that Harry now had in his life. A bed, a window, a bathroom. Not to mention all the food that they were now getting. Three meals a day with more variety than Sirius had thought that he had ever seen, even after his days as a Hogwarts student.
But no matter the luxury that they were no living in, Sirius was still scared, still nervous of what was sure to come. They were not here without a price. Soon the Dark Lord would work out what he wanted to do with them. After he’d heard from his rescued Death Eaters, assessing the value that he and his son had to him.
Yet, even with the worry, even with the trepidation that, as each meal popped into existence, given by a house elf, instead it would be a person standing there. Even with all that, Sirius couldn’t help but feel grateful.
He knew that if Harry had been thrown directly into the world, forced to interact with people he had never met before and walk around rooms that were just too big, then he would not have coped well. It would have been so hard for him. It was, even now. Even as they were still locked in a room with only a bed and bookcases, a bathroom and one large window.
Sirius has watched as Harry had sat, hour upon hour, looking out of that window. It dominated one wall and Harry had sat on the ledge, looking out over the vast expanse of sky. Looking at the gardens and the people that wandered around in. Harry had refused to close the curtains. Not now that he could see the world. Not now that it was only a pane of glass away.
Harry may have an amazing mind, understanding theories and concepts that baffled even the most experienced wizards. But that didn’t negate the fact that he was still a child who had grown up in a cage. He needed time to adjust and that’s exactly what he was being given. Sirius just couldn’t help but feel thankful for that time.
Harry was once agin seated at the window, in a place that had become his favourite spot in the room, the bed coming in at a close second. He was looking up a the sky again. Today it was a new shade of blue. One that Harry didn’t think that he had ever seen before. A scattering of clouds were chased across it. It was beautiful.
Sirius was lounging on the bed, reading one of the many books from the shelves of one wall. It had been so long since he had held a book in his hands. It had almost been as though they had not existed.
Both son and father were pulled from their musings as a lock on a door, that had not opened in over two weeks, clicked. Sirius was on his feet, book thrown to the bed. Harry pushed his back against the magically enforced glass, eyes pinned on the door.
The door slowly swung open. A creak of hinges that had been left a little too long.
There, standing in the now open doorway was a man that both Harry and Sirius recognised. A man whose power seemed to ripple across his very skin. Head to toe in black, hands gracefully at his side.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
HIs hair was an elegant wave of brown, his smirk vindictive, red eyes twinkling. He looked radiant. Harry couldn’t help it, he was up on his feet, as though standing to attention.
“Tom” the breathed words could not be controlled.
The Dark Lord scowled, offended by the sounds of his name on Harry’s lips. He had never got over his own upbringing. He didn’t think that he ever would. His name was a curse upon him, just as his own birth had been upon his mother.
Tom took one step into the room, shaking off the utterance of his name. A sharp smile full of teeth spread across his face. His eyes pinned the pair, father and son. Then with a flash in his eyes and a tilt of his head he made his proclamation.
“From now on, you belong to me.”