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Chapter Text

When you picture a normal family, closing your eyes and imagining what one would look like, you will most likely see happy faces come to mind. Laughter and comfort, hugs and kisses, all the things that make up a happy loving family.

Number 4 Privet Drive had never had that happy, content feeling. Everything had a clinical feeling to it, from the precisely placed family portraits on the wall to the flowers growing in the raised beds in the front yard.  The freakishly clean house smelled constantly of cleaning supplies, as if each floorboard had been individually soaked in them before they were laid. 

The family that lived in Number 4 Privet Drive would like to think that they mirrored their house. Clean and neat, with no room for anything out of the ordinary. Well-groomed faces and iron creased clothing helped them maintain the image, even though the family of three that lived there were not normal. 

Well, they were normal in some ways. The women stayed at home to cook and clean as she preferred, like a good housewife, while her husband worked from nine to five at a company that sold drills, and their son, the pride and joy of their existence, was a normal, if not chubby, seven-year-old boy who went to school like any normal child. 

They appeared completely normal to any outsiders' eyes. Happy, normal and plain. Exactly how they liked it. 

But this story isn't about this seemingly happy family, it's about the parts that they don’t like the neighbors seeing. The blood-stained cupboard under the stairs and the locks on its door. The fact that most of the cleaning wasn't done by the women, but instead by a pair of tiny bleach spotted hands. That most of the time, leftover scraps of food never made their way into the bin but were instead shoved into a child's face in leu of an actual meal. The child that was violently shoved into the blood-stained cupboard when he was wanted out of sight. A boy who did his best to avoid the swinging fists of his overweight Uncle and the flinty eyes of his aunt. The way that green eyes would follow every move that was made by the people whose house he was living in, constantly being aware of anything that would cause him harm. 

The boy would waft his way through the house when ordered, drifting like ghost in and out of the rooms as he tidied and cleaned. Dark purple bags adorned his face under soulful eyes and matted hair that would have been soft to the touch if it was washed regularly. Small and meek and malleable the boy was.

The boy's name was Harry and unfortunately, he was anything but normal.

-

Harry didn't like the cupboard. Even if it was the closest thing, he had to a safe place in this house. 

It was the wrong type of dark, dreary and silent, not at all the type of darkness Harry had come to prefer. He liked warm darkness. When his body was buried underneath something that kept him warm enough for him to sleep soundly or at night when he was able to sneak out of his cupboard silently enough to afford a light lay on one of the pristine couches. 

His body ached as he sat, his shoulder blades digging into the hard wooden panels that made up the miniscule room he was in. It didn't matter though; he would hurt even if he somehow managed to find a more comfortable position to sit in. There were bruises all up and down his skinny arms, littering the pale skin with unsightly green and black splotches, and the back of his dirty grey shirt was molded to his back with blood. His hands were dry and chapped from how much time they spent touching aunties cleaning products. The creases on his pale hands cracked when he clenched or stretched them, making it much too painful to do so. He liked to keep them limp at his slides when they weren't need, trying to keep them from cracking open even more, but it was hard. 

It had been a long time since Harry had worn something without blood, something that other, normal people, would think was appalling. He hadn't been able to change into a cleaner shirt for a few days, and the blood and scabs that had were under the shirt had turned the normally dirty grey fabric into a disgusting coppery brown. Belt lashes stripped themselves upon the pale, bruise mottled skin of his back, the reason that his shirt had almost grown into his skin. Open wounds did not mix well with ratty polyester threads. It hurt, it hurt so much sometimes that Harry couldn't breathe. But right now, it wasn't so bad, it just hurt a little bit. 

Uncle Vernon had taken the belt to his back over something so little that Harry couldn't even remember what it had been, only that it was enough to set off his uncle. Though, that didn't take much now a days, his uncle was always looking for something to punish him for. His eyes contained a disgusting gleam to them when he looked Harry's way recently, and while Harry didn't know exactly what it meant, it scared him enough for him to nab a small kitchen knife from the knife block in the kitchen. 

It was the smallest knife out of the set and even them it was almost too big in his fragile hand. He kept it tucked under his pillow; the naive mind set of a child telling him that it was the safest place for him to hide it. He liked to think of it as some sort of powerful weapon that would keep him safe from harm. He would hold it close on nights where he wasn't sure he was actually going to see the next day. Nights when Uncle Vernon would scream and hit as if his life depended on it. 

Harry felt powerful when he held the sleek knife, reverently gliding his spindly fingers over the shiny blade. It was the only protection he had, even if it had never been used. It was a stupid feeling, a stupid thing to make himself feel better about things he couldn't control. Sometimes he just wanted to take the knife and stab it as deep into his uncle Vernon’s beady little eyes as hard as he possibly could. 

A yell from the living room broke Harry out of the routine daze and vaguely murderous thoughts that he had fallen into, his glazed over green eyes blinking dizzily as he automatically tried to get his wobbly feet under him. He stumbled a bit, one of his knees hitting sharply against the floor, but he got to his feet and made his way out the door.

Stepping out, Harry’s eyes burned from the quick shift from darkness to light, making him flinch before another louder ell made his hurry down the hall.

The floor was chilled beneath his bare feet and the air-conditioned air was biting. One good thing about his cupboard was how quickly it got warm when the air in the rest of the house was freezing from the air conditioner. 

Aunt Petunia was puttering around the kitchen, apron tied around her waist and a sour look on her face when she caught sight of Harry. His uncle was the one who had yelled for him and given the shade of puce that his whiskered face was as he sat at his designated seat at the table, Harry was not going to be having a good time. 

“Dudley is going to be having some friends over later Freak” Uncle Vernon said, his chops wobbling with each syllable and his eyes holding a barely controlled rage, as if the mere sight of his nephew was unspeakable enough to cause him anger. Which Harry guessed it was. “and I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you in this house until their gone, or better yet, you could just leave and not come back” He chuckled at the last part, like he had said some sort of funny joke and not just threatened his nephew with homelessness. 

“Y-yes Uncle Vernon” Harry replied, making sure to keep his eyes downcast and his hands limp by his sides. It was easier that way “I-I can do tha’” 

His voice had a lisp to it, just like many other kids had. Some words were just harder to say than others and the stuttering was something that Harry had always had. Aunt Petunia had always been unpleased when she had heard Harry talk, thinking that the “Ugly way” he talked was going to spread or something. Harry thought his auntie was scared of getting sick. He always felt a little sorry for her when she got worried that he was going to give her some disease, it was his fault that he was dirty and sick, not hers. 

With a glance out the window Harry was able to tell that his time spent outside wasn't going to be the most pleasant. The clouds were dark and there was rain sprinkling downwards at an alarming rate. There was a quick flash of something black and white that Harry quickly disregarded as unimportant. 

But, in the back of his mind, Harry felt like something was watching him.

“Then get out of my sight and out of my house, Boy!” Uncle demanded, looking alarmingly close to just throttling Harry to get it over with. Harry didn't think his aunt would stop him.

Harry nodded quickly, murmuring a quiet ‘Yes, Uncle Vernon’ under his breath before he padded towards the glass sliding door and stepped out into the slick rain. 

He was soaked almost immediately. The water drenching his clothes and plastering his thick black hair against his skull. The water made the scabs beneath his shirt soften and open once again, causing a deep sting, and watery blood to stain his grey shirt and drip down his skin in thin streams. 

Harry used his small hands to shield his eyes from the water as he hurried his way to the shed that sat in the back of the neatly kept yard. 

Walking around the side of it, Harry quickly found the gap he was looking for and proceeded to squeeze himself through it. It hurt, Harry gasped as his back scraped against the thick hedge, whimpering as he continued to move. Pushing himself a little further, he found the little dip in the ground that he had scraped out with his hands and the thick stained blanket that he had managed to rescue from the trashcans before the garbage truck had been able to whisk it away to the dump. 

The only reason that Aunt Petunia had thrown out the blanket was because of the hideous brown stain from a spilled and forgotten cup of coffee. Well, it was hideous to auntie, Harry thought it was one of the most beautiful things in the world. It was thick, feather filled and heavy in a way that made Harry nearly delirious with happiness. 

Harry settled into his little crevice, wrapping the dusty blanket around himself and nestling close to the ground. Lay here like this always made Harry think of little birds curled up in their nests, happy and warm. With the thick blanket and the sheds overhanging roof, Harry was as comfortable as he could be in this situation. His body still ached and there was no doubt that he was staining his blanket with the blood from his stinging back, but for now he was free to drift comfortably and count cars as they passed as a way to pass the time.  

His breath misted in the cold air, sending little puffs of vapor. Harry shuddered against the chill that had made its way through his blanket to permeate his very bones. He knew he would be stiff when he finally had to stand up, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make to stay hidden and somewhat warm while he was stuck outside. 

His hands ached from the damp and the cold, their place tucked underneath his arms only keeping them warm enough for them not to hurt to bad, and his back was in about the same state. His body hurt, really, really bad and Harry really wanted to cry. He sniffled, the tip of his nose a bright pink, and moved to rub it with the back of one hand. 

His hand stung from the movement and that just made the tears prick at his eyes faster than before.

Before the tears could begin to trail down his sallow cheeks, a bellow came from the house.

“Boy, get out of whatever crack you shoved yourself into and get your skinny ass back here!”

Harry scrambled up on wobbly feet, pins and needles shooting through his legs as he dropped the blanket from his shoulders. Squeezing back out of the crevice he had first squeezed into, he scurried back around the shed to make his way back towards the back door. His clothing was soaked through almost immediately, but he barely even noticed it. Uncle Vernon was standing at the open door, his face an angry red. 

For a brief second Harry’s wrists felt like they were on fire and the sound of clinking metal reached is ears. The pain and sound were gone almost as soon as they appeared, just like he had imagined it.

Unnoticed to Harry, there was a brief flash of glowing green that was lost in the pouring rain, and a dark string of metal chains slithered through the grass like a snake.

But Harry didn't notice it at all.

Chapter Text

Stepping back inside the house made Harry feel like he couldn't breathe. 

He shook off as much water as he could before he walked through the glass door, not wanting to leave puddles where he walked. Uncle Vernon was standing before him, Aunt Petunia at his side with her usual sour look on her face and her eyes hard. 

On the other hand, while auntie leaned more onto mean faces and snide words, Uncle Vernon's face was lined in anger in a way that spelled violence for Harry. 

Harry didn't know what he had done wrong. He had tried to be good. He hadn't even been inside so how could they blame him? Faced with anger, he flinched inwards, cowering away without a thought. It was a normal reaction at this point. 

“Do you know what you did?” For someone who was almost exclusively loud, the controlled voice that Uncle Vernon used for his question shot a spike of bone deep terror through Harry.

He shook his head frantically as a fine tremble made its way down his arms and legs. 

“Speak up boy” Aunt Petunia’s sharp voice barked out.

“No, Uncle Vernon I dun’ know wha I did” Harry answered, his voice wavering as animal terror spread through his body. 

“No? What do you mean no! You ruined our boys' day with your freakishness! I don’t know how you did it but I know it was you!” Aunt Petunia screeched; her tone hysterical as Uncle Vernon’s face went purple. 

Harry couldn't have dodged the fist that came flying towards even if he had seen it. He was sent tumbling to the floor, his tailbone smacking against the floor. A sharp ache shot up Harry's spine, forcing a whimper out of him. He reached up to cradle his jaw, but a sharp smack to his already bruising jaw. 

“Get in your goddamn cupboard before I stuff you in there myself, got it! Petunia going to take Dudley out to make up for what you did, and while they're out, I am going to give you exactly what you deserve!” Uncle Vernon snarled, his mustache twitching furiously. 

Harry nodded shakily before standing, swaying dizzily for a second before padding hurriedly to his cupboard door. There was blood in his mouth, which meant that Uncle Vernon's punch had given him a cut, and on top of that, he was still soaking wet from the rain. 

Curling up fitfully against the bare mattress in his cupboard, Harry cupped his jaw gently and tried not to cry. Crying wouldn’t get him anything.

As he laid in his cupboard he was dreading when Aunt Petunia would leave the house with Dudley, leaving him alone to face the wrath of his uncle. Uncle Vernon had been giving him looks lately. Looks that made his stomach turn in disgust and fear too creep up his spine. The feeling of his uncle's beady pig eyes on him scared him more than any verbal threat ever had.

It made him want to rip them out of their sockets.

Harry narrowed his own eyes as a stinging itch radiated from his both of his wrists and his neck. On top of his regular aches and pains that he normally had; he had been noticing the pain there more often. The itch flared up at, probably from the rainwater drying against the fragile skin. One hand moved down from cradling his aching jaw to scratch idly at the fragile skin of his neck.  Harry had noticed that, for some reason, the itch seemed to get worse when Uncle Vernon or Dudley started hitting him or if Aunt Petunia swung a pan towards his face. But it didn't make any sense.

He didn't want to think about that anymore, so he settled in to wait for the beating he was going to get.

-

The slam of the front door punched through the silence of Harry’s cupboard, startling his eyes open. He knew that that had to be his aunt and cousin finally leaving, and he couldn't stop the little shakes that started up and down his arms.

“Boy! Your aunt has gone out to the shops, and she took Dudley with her just like I said. That means that it's just you and me, so get your arse out here!”

“C-coming Uncle Vernon” he called back shakily, swallowing hard as he crawled out of one of the only places that ever offered him some sort of safety.

Uncle Vernon was standing at the end of the hallway, grabbing onto Harry’s arm as soon as he got close. The grip that the meaty hand had on his upper arm caused Harry to cry out at the pain, trying to wrench away before he had thought better of it.

“Stop your squirming you idiot!” the obtuse man growled “I’ll give you one chance boy to tell me what you did with your freakishness and if you tell me maybe I’ll be gentle” Vernon declared.

Gentle? Uncle Vernon didn’t know what gentle was.

“I-I didn’t do anything sir I swear” Harry stuttered out. And how could he have? He had been outside all day. Now only if Uncle Vernon could accept that answer.

A fist once again found its place along his body, only this time it was his stomach that screamed in pain at the blunt blow. Harry only kept himself standing through sheer force of will even as his arms went to incircle his waist protectively.

“You lying little freak. What have we told you about lying?” Uncle Vernon coaxed meanly.

“N-not too” Harry whispered back weakly as he clutched at his stomach even harder. 

“Exactly, well no matter, today I have a special punishment for you” Uncle Vernon said with sick amusement staining his voice “and nothing you do will get you out of it, not even your freakishness.”

Harry’s heart stuttered harshly in his chest at his uncle's words. He hadn't even done anything; he was being good!

“Upstairs now boy” He demanded, and Harry had no choice but to obey.

He complied while internally panicking as he made his way up. Uncle Vernon steered him towards Dudley’s second bedroom where it appeared to have been cleared out. There was a rickety twin bed sitting in the corner covered only with some old white bedding along with a desk and wardrobe.

As soon as he stepped through the door a meaty hand immediately pushed him harshly to the floor.

“Strip boy,” Uncle Vernon demanded.

Now keep in mind that he had no idea what was going on, he may have been smarter than he let on, but he was still only a child.

“What!” Harry squawked in embarrassment. He regretted it instantly when Vernon immediately turned an angry shade of purple.

“Do it now Freak!” He demanded and Harry did as he was told, quickly stripping off his pants first when he faltered at his shirt. By now the fabric had welded back together with the wounds on his back and he knew it would hurt badly to get it off. 

Uncle Vernon noticed his hesitation and took it into his own hands to wrench the dirty shirt off his nephew's body.

Harry couldn’t contain a scream as the shirt was pulled harshly over his head. He could feel the fabric ripping at the newly formed scabs and it hurt almost as much as when the wounds on his back were first made.

His uncle gave him no time to catch his breath before he was shoved down onto the small bed in only his boxers and ordered to put his hands above his head. The sheets below rubbed against his now bleeding back in an agonizing way as he complied with his uncle's orders, wishing he was anywhere but here.

Immediately Uncle Vernon was above him, tying his hands to the headboard with a harsh ridged rope that he had grabbed from somewhere. Harry tried as he might to buck away from his uncle's rancid breath from where the man puffed against his face, but the overweight man had moved his hands down from the tied rope to grip his hips harshly.

“Now behave boy and maybe I’ll go easy on you” Uncle Vernon sneered. 

Harry couldn’t help the tears that bubbled out of his eyes and the hitching sobs that burst out of his chest. 

-

By the time Uncle Vernon had finally finished, Harry was sobbing helplessly. His wrists were bloody from where he had pulled fruitlessly against the rope in a vain attempt to get away, and his arse and backside were aching in a way that made the way his back and hands had been hurting look like child's play.

There was something warm and wet trailing down along his private parts and Harry wasn’t sure if it was blood or not.

As the monster in human skin moved to roughly undo the ropes from his wrists Harry could barely breathe through the hiccupping sobs that left his mouth.

Uncle Vernon hoisted him off the bed by his arm and Harry’s knees buckled beneath him and slammed against the wooden floor birds with a sharp crack.

Uncle Vernon pulled him up again, his meaty fingers digging into the raw flesh on his boney wrist before thrusting the same dirty shirt that he had taken off into his free hand before dragging him out the door and down the stairs.

If Uncle Vernon’s hand hadn’t been holding him up Harry is sure he would’ve fallen multiple times while he was being dragged back towards his cupboard. 

“Put your damn clothes on before Petunia gets back and get in the cupboard. You can come out to make breakfast in the morning but don’t expect to get any for yourself” Uncle Vernon voiced as he came to a stop in front of the small door, jerking it open and shoving the sobbing boy in, before slamming the door shut.

As the door closed and Harry was left in the dark his uncle called out to him once again “Make sure you don’t do anything freakish again or I’ll have to punish you like this again. I’d like to, but I don’t think you would.”

With those chilling words Harry could hear his uncle's lumbering footsteps retreating towards the sitting room.

Harry lay there curled up on his mattress, his skin still bare because he hadn’t been able to work up the energy to sit up and put the shirt on. Tears trailed down his face at an alarming rate, trailing over the bridge of his nose as he choked on the cries that hiccuped up his throat. 

He was hurt. Everywhere hurt. Harry didn’t think he had ever been in this much pain ever. His head hurt from the force of his crying, the rest of his body wailing in agony, begging for the pain to stop. But Harry couldn’t do anything to stop it. He couldn’t do anything to make Uncle Vernon stop hurting him. No matter what happened the man was always the one who held the power, he ruled over his household and Harry couldn’t change that.

As he cried, the itch that he had been feeling in his arms and neck intensified without warning. Harry yelped at the feeling, a little anguished wail breaking free in-between his sobs. 

For once, Harry was sure that his body had turned against him. His body was the only thing that he could control, the only thing that was just his. If his body didn't like him, what did he have left?

Almost as soon as the painful itch had gotten worse, it reverted back to its normal amount of itchy, leaving his small chest heaving for air as a small bit of his pain disappeared. Harry opened his eyes, not having realized that he had closed them in the first place, and he had to clamp his mouth shut to hold in a strangled sound of surprise.

Where the inside of his cupboard had once been completely dark not even a minute ago, it was now lite from the inside by a sickly green light. The light was coming from dark metal chains that were sprouting from underneath his skin, turning it red and lifting up a section to make a pocket.

Harry uncurled himself a little as he squinted at the light to get a better look. The sound he made when he completely took in the sight. Luckily it didn't seem to be loud enough to leave the cupboard, which was good.

It was freaky to see floating chains snake their way out of his wrists. And when Harry reached up timidly, they were coming out of his neck too. The metal links were matte black and hand an eerie toxic glow surrounding them. The green light making his already pale skin look washed out and bleak. 

He ran a shaking finger down one of them and was only slightly surprised by the sting of pain it brought. Looking at the rapidly swelling blood on his finger, Harry could tell that the weird chains were sharp. Very sharp.

They metal was waving idly in the air, and surprisingly, when Harry pictured one of the chains curing itself into a loop, it did just that. 

It looked in on itself, moving like a snake in the grass, silently and smooth as butter. 

As Harry continued to play around with the metal links, a thought hit him, and he had to stop a not completely sane giggle from escaping him as his cracked lips spread into an impish grin.

Had the grin been seen on any other child, one not so covered in blood and stuffed into a cupboard, it would have looked cute but on a child who was covered in blood and shoved into a cupboard, who’s eyes had a dangerous look in them, a look that promised more pain than not, the smile looked deranged.

The chains were sharp, and it would be so easy for them to cut through flesh. Human flesh. His auntie and uncles and cousin's flesh.

He wouldn’t let them hurt him anymore, wouldn’t let himself be hurt anymore, not by Vernon or Petunia or Dudley. For once he would be the one doing the hurting and he was going to savor every moment of it.

Chapter Text

There was another kid living in the house. 

He hadn’t seen the kid at first, only after he had caught a few glimpses of another body through the windows did he realize that there was somebody else living in the house along with his targets. 

His first few glimpses he couldn’t tell if the kid was even there and not just a trick of the eyes.

The first time he had really seen the kid had been that morning. He had been hiding in a tree, having climbed up there to hide amongst the thick leaves to spy on his next victims -a horse faced woman and two males who reminded him of tubby whales then people- when he caught sight of a smaller figure. Looking in through the window above the kitchen sink from his vantage point, Jeff had seen a small child, maybe three or four years old, making a full English breakfast. 

Jeff’s immediate first thought when he saw the boy was that maybe the family had a midget friend who had managed to enter the house without him noticing but when he got a better look it was clearly a child. An abused child going by the bruises showing and the fact that the back of his shirt was crusted in blood.

Water dripped down his hair as he shook his head in disgust from where he was leaned back against rough bark, at the thought of the family-the Dursley’s they were called- hurting a child just for the sake of it. When he saw the child being sent outside and into the cold and told that he wasn’t allowed back inside, he felt the barest stirrings of pity. 

He may have been someone who murdered people just for the thrill of it (and because Slendy was a fucking slave driver) but he never let the kids stay alive long enough to prolong their suffering. He still killed them all the same, being younger wouldn’t stop him from putting them to sleep. 

“Oh well” Jeff huffed to himself “I’ll just have to put the little shit out of his misery”.

And he went back to quietly watching his prey.

-

The snores of three different people filled the house. One sounded high and reedy and the other two sounded more like miniature motorcycles. While the three people slept upstairs unaware of what was about to happen to them.

A cupboard door creaked open slowly, a small hand gently shoving it. The owner of the hand stopped for a moment, listening carefully to the noise upstairs. When nothing changed he allowed himself to take a breath and creep out of the little doorway with his knife clutched in one small pale slightly bloodied hand.

Had anyone walked through the downstairs hall for whatever reason, they would have seen a small child with arms and legs far to skinny, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that one could not tell the original color to because it was covered in blood. Dried blood to be precise, the back of the fabric was especially dirtied, scabs stuck to the inside of the shirt where they had been torn forcefully from the skin. 

The boy was also holding a knife.

Harry slowly crept down the hall and up the stairs. He kept his steps light as he pushed open the door to his cousin's room. Stopping briefly when it creaked and Dudley shifted in his bed. 

Dudley’s room was littered with discarded toys and comic magazines that Harry stepped over carefully as he made his way to his sleeping cousin's side.

The overweight boy was sleeping spread out on his back wearing a pair of blue pajamas that made him look even more like a vaguely disfigured whale. Snores that sounded more like rapid snorts than actual snoring filled the room.

Standing at the bedside of one of his main tormentors, a vicious bully who took amusement in hurting others, Harry could feel giddiness welling up within and he made no move to stop it.

Bending down Harry grabbed a shirt from where it had been discarded thoughtlessly on the floor, balled it up before wrenching his cousin's mouth open and jamming it in. As he did that, the chains that had been steadily winding their way up the fat body on the bed, tightened around the boy's limbs and middle, drawing blood as they dug into soft skin.

Dudley jerked awake with a muffled scream as blood began to rapidly well up from his wounds. His eyes were filled with sleepy terror as they darted to and fro looking for whatever was causing him pain.

“Good morning Duddy!” Harry chirped in a hushed tone “me and you are gonna play a game alright?” He chatted giddily.

The sight of blood spilling against pink skin and pooling onto the sheets below was feeding something into the aching pit in his stomach as he ran spindly fingers through it. Harry stared down at his cousin's pain filled face transfixed at the soundless tears that streamed down the chubby face.

“You know” Harry crooned as he moved his bloody hand up to the snot covered face below him and began to idly trace bloody patterns “you have such pretty blood. It’s such a nice color”

Harry tilted his head to the side, eyes widening to the extreme and filled with sick fascination. His fingers trailed further upwards, stopping right up against Dudley’s eyes. A soft baby blue that would look so nice on anyone else, but only made Harry want to tear them out. Just like uncles.

“... I’m gonna take your eyes now, mkay?” Harry stated, his phrasing rhetorical.

Dudley tried to shake his head, but with a simple thought Harry had his metal appendages shake the boys head up and down in a false nod.

“Good! But ya gotta hold still Kay” Harry declared. 

Lifting the previously unused kitchen knife Harry brought it to his cousin's face, before carefully bringing the tip down to pry underneath the eyelid as Duddy tried fruitlessly to blink away the sharp metal intrusion.

Harry wiggled the knife inside Duddy’s eye socket while the tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the task at hand. He kept applying force until there was a wet squelch as the first baby blue eye rolled out of its socket.

Dudley’s screams could be heard slightly through the fabric in his mouth as he tried to thrash against the pain. He had never been in this much pain before. He had been the one who always hurt others, especially hurting his freak of a cousin but now the freak had just cut one of his eyes out of his face and he couldn’t do anything about it.

The freak was holding him down somehow with something that was hurting him where it dug into his skin. Dudley was scared, terrified even, but he was sure his Da’ would come and kick the freak off of him at any moment or that this was just a bad dream.

Except there was no thundering of footsteps rushing towards his room or the sound of his Da’s voice telling the freak off. There was just the sound of two separately snoring people in the next room over that Dudley could barely even hear over the blood rushing behind his ears.

Harry picked the bloody eye up from where it had rolled down against Duddy’s collarbones, cradling it gently within his thin hand as he stared at it with undisguised glee and fascination. It felt tacky against his hand and felt kinda like one of the grapes he had been able to sneak from a bag of them when Aunt Petunia had taken him down to the shops once. Eyeing it speculatively Harry wondered if it would taste anything like how the grape had tasted.

Without a second thought Harry popped the bloody eyeball into his mouth and chomped down on it. It burst with a soft pop and Harry’s mouth was flooded with a salty, blood tasting gel. It wasn’t the most unpleasant thing he had ever tasted. Far from it, he actually kinda liked how it felt as he chewed it.

Looking back towards the bed as he swallowed, Harry met his cousin's lone eye, watching the almost inhumane terror in those baby blues gave him a vindictive sense of satisfaction.

“That was yummy, but I think I want to keep the other one” Harry remarked. His voice taking on the whiny tone of a spoiled child who wanted something from their parents.

Looking around, Harry spotted a small, clear dinosaur shaped water bottle. It looked like the type Harry had seen on the T.V in passing, a T-Rex. It was made out of a flimsy clear plastic and the features were muddled but it would work for the time being. 

Padding over towards the shelf the bottle was perched on, he grabbed carefully from the high shelf, his fingers leaving bloody prints in their wake.

He proceeded to walk back to the bed and began the process of taking out Duddy’s other eye.

The bigger boy continued to thrash and cry as the sharp metal was once again shimmied into his eye socket without a care for his comfort.

With another pop, the boy's other eye was forced from its socket leaving Dudley Dursely without sight. The boy's lack of sight might have caused problems in his future had Harry not already decided to kill him that night, thus leaving Duddy without the need for eyes anyways.

After all, corpses don't need to see.

Harry plucked up the bloody sphere with skinny fingers and dropped the slimy thing into the childish bottle where it hit the bottom with a barely audible thump. Harry swirled the bottle in his grip, watching in fascination as it rolled in lazy circles around the base.

Having claimed his cousin's last eye, Harry decided he was done being mean to Duddy and he wanted to start being mean to Uncle and Auntie now. He looked down at his cousin and was struck by how pitiful the boy looked, all sniveling and bloody. The sight struck a deep sense of pride into Harry, knowing that he was the one who made his own cousin writhe and cry for once and not the other way round.

With barely a thought, Harry had his fluorescent chains tightening their hold until the bigger boy's body couldn't hold itself together under the force of the sharp metal. With a tearing sound and the squelch of falling meat, the body fell apart into a multitude of bloodied chunks, leaving a barely recognizable body, with only the head, hands and feet still fully intact. Well almost fully intact. 

After all there were only bloody pits left where his eyes used to sit.

Nodding to himself, Harry clutched his new dinosaur bottle -and it was his now! It wasn't like Duddy needed it anymore- to his chest, his shirt hanging limply off one boney shoulder and proceeded the pad towards his aunt and uncle's room.

Following the sound of the loud snores, he made his way through the hallway and over the threshold into the master bedroom and went to stand at the foot of the queen bed that was shared between the two adults of the house.

He didn't notice the pair of eternally opened eyes watching him from the shadows in the far corner, nor did he notice how they gleamed in interest of the small blood covered boy standing between him and his scouted prey. 

He doesn't have eyes for anything but his aunt and uncle at the moment. 

Harry thinks he would like to be able to look down on his uncle, and Aunt just this once, but he was too small to do so. With an audible huff, Harry shuffled towards his aunt's vanity and dragged it over to the bed as quietly as he could. It was hard to do with his hands otherwise occupied with his knife and bottle, but he managed just fine. 

Hoisting himself up to stand on the wooden chair, Harry was able to gaze down upon the forms of his relatives with ease. And once again with barely a thought, Harry had his new appendages wrapped tightly around the still bodies lying on the bed. 

He doesn't bother gagging them like he did with Duddy, content to listen to their screams and cries now that he didn't have to worry about waking them up. The chains are wrapped a little differently than they were with Duddy, wrapped around the adult's foreheads, and under their eyes, making it impossible for them to move even a little. 

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia jerked awake with agonized screams tearing their way up out of their chain wrapped throats. Harry giggled, high pitched, breathy and inhuman sounding. It brought the attention of his Auntie and Uncle towards where he stood, elevated above them at the foot of the bed.

Uncle Vernon’s face had taken on a tantalizing shade of puce as he glared at his nephew through tears brought from pain.

“That's a neat trick there” A raspy voice drawled from behind Harry, causing him to whirl around in surprise, clutching his treasure bottle to his chest and raising his knife shakily. 

There was a teenager standing a few feet away, a very weird looking teenager. The teen was wearing a white hoodie and a pair of black jeans, all in all a pretty normal outfit, but what really catches Harry’s eyes is his face. 

The teenager's face was fascinating. With eyes that were seemingly forced wide open, a ripped and  bloody smile gaping from ear to ear and stark white skin. There was long black hair peeking out from under the white hood and falling to frame the pale face.

“W-who are you?” Harry asked, still not lowering his shaking hand. It wasn't that he was particularly scared, he was just tired and hungry, even if eating Duddy’s eye had put something in his stomach it wasn't enough.

The teenager looked back and forth from Harry to the two people squirming against the bed before answering, “you can call me Jeff, brat. So what are you going to do with them?” he said, tilting his head towards the gurgling sounds of Auntie and Uncle struggling against the sharp metal.

“Mhm’kay, ar-are you going to kill them?” Harry asked, not answering the teen's question and just now noticing the twin kitchen knives gripped in the pale teens' hands, “are you going to kill me?”.

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the prospect of dying right before he would finally be able to get away from this horrid house.

“Maybe”

“oh …can y-you let me kill Auntie and Uncle first?”

The teen just nodded at him, looking Harry up and down before seemingly coming to a decision, “Yeah sure, go ahead and kill ‘em, I won’t stop you.” He said, shrugging nonchalantly, “but I can’t let you stay here, not when I’ve seen what you can do. I’m taking you with me when your done, I have a place where I think you’ll fit right in, especially well, if I’m being honest.”

Harry perked up at the teens words, smiling impishly at the permission, even if the idea of going somewhere with someone he didn’t know scared him a bit, before turning back to his victims.

“Didja hear t-that! I get to hurt you and then I get to leave!” Harry said excitedly, hugging his bottle and knife to his chest giddily, the strange teen all but forgotten about.

Vernon seemed to be trying to murder Harry with his glare alone and Aunt Petunia had given up struggling entirely as she just laid still against the sheets as tears streamed silently down her face. 

He commanded the chains to coil towards the faces of his Uncle and Auntie, bathing their features in a sickly green glow  and watched entrapped as the tips of the sharp thin metal appendages slipped easily in between their eyelids and eyeballs, circling behind the spheres before tightening around the optic nerve and disconnecting the entire eyeball from their fleshy anchors.

The hold the chains had around the adults throats loosened so Harry could hear the gurgles of pain they were emitting. He reveled in the wails Aunt Petunia was making while Uncle Vernon was choking out curses. He could make out the approving noise coming from the teen behind him and it made him feel an emotion he couldn't quite place. 

The chains against the adults's faces retreated from the now empty eye sockets and gently brought the eyes in their grasp back towards harry. Harry went to grab them, before realizing both his hands were filled. Looking mournfully down at the items his bloody hands were holding, he was stumped for a moment. He didn't want to set down either his bottle or his knife. After a moment of thinking Harry finally remembered that he wasn't the only person in the room. Turning his large green eyes to the stranger, Harry held out his hand that was holding his knife, silently bidding the dark haired teen to take it.

After a moment of deliberation, the teen shifted one of his own knives to his other hand and grabbed Harry's own small, bloody one. 

Harry giggled again as the knife left his hand, turning back to the rattling chains and began humming cheerfully as he began grabbing and dropping the severed eyes into his bottle one by one. When he got to the last one he didn't put it into the bottle but instead popped it into his mouth like he had done with Duddy’s. He hummed appreciably at the flavor, still somewhat surprised he was finding any enjoyment at eating human eyes. He just shrugged off the thought as he wiped a trickle drool and vitreous liquid from the corner of his mouth.

Finally having gotten what he wanted from their faces he began to tighten the chains, slower then he had done to Duddy so he could speak to them one last time.

“Thank y-you for giving me your eyes! I didn't like how you looked at m-me so now you can’t look at me e-ever again!” Harry chirped, his voice still having the raspy quality that came with prolonged disuse. “They taste really g-good but if you g-gave me more food I wouldn't be so hungry” he said, patting Uncle's leg softly.

The chains tightened for the last time and just like their son they were left in bloody chunks that sat heavily against blood soaked sheets. Harry sighed, feeling like a weight had left his shoulders. He turned back to the teen, who had been watching the proceedings silently with an impressed and slightly awed look on his disfigured face.

“Jesus Christ kid, you're almost as bad as L.J” Jeff said as he did a once over of the carnage the small boy in front of him had caused with what seemed like little to no effort.

-

Jeff had been going to kill the parents before he he took care of both kids, but he had been stopped by the sound of small feet padding softly down the hall and he had been prepared to kill whatever kid had woken up as quickly and quietly as possible but he had been frozen by the sight of the second kid -the one he hadn't even known had lived in the house- walking slowly into the master bedroom, covered head to toe in blood. Some old and dry, some clearly fresh. The was too much to have been from the one skinny body, but Jeff got his answer when he saw the bloody knife hanging in the boy's grasp and even stranger were the matte black chains that were emitting a sickly green glow and covered in blood.

He had admittedly blue screened for a moment before shaking himself out of his stupor, after all some weird ass chains didn't even come close to the strangest things he had ever been privy to seeing. 

He had revealed himself to the kid after watching him haul a wooden vanity chair to the foot of the bed. The boy had been holding some sort of weirdly shaped bottle along with his knife, and didn't even put it down to haul the chair. Jeff hadn't been able to clearly see what was inside but it must have been something if the kid wouldn't put it down.

It was odd that the kid did not seem that opposed to Jeff killing him as long as he got to kill the two people in the bed first, as if Jeff hadn't already decided to take the kid to the mansion to meet Slenderman.

He was even more convinced the kid was a potential creep when he took the eyes out of the adults eye sockets without flinching, putting three in the bottle he was carrying, and then fucking. ate. one. of. them.

Just popped it into his mouth without a care, seemingly enjoying it immensely as he did.

Yup, Jeff decided, E.J was going to be territorial about having another cannibal in the mansion.

…. Oh well.

And then the kid said some concerning things and tore his - Mom? Dad? Foster parents?,  whatever they were to him- apart. The two adults were rendered into chunks of flesh and eyeless severed heads.

Jeff felt no small amounts of awe at the gruesome display. For someone so young and inexperienced to have snapped so thoroughly was rare. 

It didn't take long before he was lightly holding onto a small bloody bloody hand, leading the way towards the small woods at the edge of the neighborhood park. The boy -whose name was harry. He had asked and the boy had told him- must have been cold dressed only in an oversized shirt, but there had been no complaints from him. Jeff would most definitely have to give the boy over to E.J for a once over because there was absolutely no way that Harry wasn't injured somewhere, especially considering the rubbed raw wrists and dark bruises littering his fragile skin.

Finally making it to the edge of the trees, having walked past the play equipment, Jeff let go of Harry's hand and searched around the tree trunks for the operator symbol. Harry looked on curiously but refrained from saying anything. 

Giving a small cry of triumph when his hand finally brushed over the symbol, Jeff beckoned harry over with a wave of his hand.

“Alright we’re going to go through here. This is going to be your first time using the operators portals so don't drop my hand else you'll probably end up somewhere scary - well scary for little brats that is” he said as he clasped the brats hand in his. Jeff was rewarded with a glare for his snarky remark but Harry nodded nonetheless.

Jeff pressed his hand to the symbol and started walking forward. The surroundings shifted dizzyingly around them as the scene faded into a fogged over, gray forest. Harry was looking around in awe at the abrupt change in scenery and seemed to be feeling no fear in the forest. That was another good sign that he was creep material.

They kept walking until the trees thinned and the fog reduced slightly but was still hovering and blocking their eyesight.

Even with the fog Jeff could tell the exact moment Harry laid eyes on the mansion. He had gasped not out of fear but out of awe at the sight of the slightly dilapidated mansion. It was a tall structure made of gray stone and covered in creeping vines. The color and the fog gave it an otherworldly quality and technically it was otherworldly.

“This is the Ark, if your allowed, this will be your new home, and if not, well…”

Well, it’s not like Harry was afraid of dying, so the only response Jeff got was a few overenthusiastic nods.

Chapter Text

Harry held his breath as he was led towards the looming building in front of him. His heart was racing with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. He had know idea how he was going to be treated in this strange new place, but he figured anything would be better than staying with his relatives. Not that he could because they were Dead Dead Dead.

Harry giggled.

His bare feet crunched on the soggy leaves and sticks that were underfoot as he was tugged along towards the wooded steps that led upwards to a decrepit white wooden door. There was a single lamp lit, hanging above the door frame and casting its dull glow into the thin fog.

He still had his bottle of prizes clutched closely to his chest, the plastic feeling tacky with the dried blood marring its smooth surface. There was a seam on the plastic where the halves were melted together that Harry found soothing to trace his small fingers across.  

The teenager, that he now knew was named Jeff, tugged his hand harder as he stepped up onto the stairs with Harry following closely behind. The stairs groaned under the combined weight of two persons. The wood was hard under Harry's feet, and if Harry was held back by simple things like splinters he would be scared of walking barefooted on it. 

“This door leads to the kitchen so there will probably be assholes in there, because they live to cause me problems and they never sleep. So be prepared. They won't hurt you. Probably” Jeff said as he put a pale hand on the door. 

Harry blinked at the last part of the teens sentence, slightly bewildered. He knew Jeff said that there would be people like him where they were going but it didn't quite sink in that there would be People Like Him.

The door creaked as the handle was twisted and it was pushed open and Harry was immediately assaulted by voices.

“L.J, what have I told you about letting the dog in the fucking fridge!” snarled a blue masked man.

The man had his hands braced against a wooden table and even if Harry couldn't see his face, he knew that the man was angry. The man's aforementioned face was covered in a blue mask, with only eye holes on its surface. The eye holes seemed to be leaking a weird black fluid that made Harry scrunch his nose up at the sight and idly wonder how the man could see.

Across from the man, sitting cross legged on the table, pouting, was a weird black and white clown. Harry only knew what a clown was because he had seen one on the Telly. But he hadn't seen a single black and white clown in the show that he had seen through the grate of his cupboard, only colorful ones in various eyes searing shades.

But this one was just a sharp contrast between black and white, no other colors to be found on his person.

“Not too.” the clown whined, still pouting like a petulant child.

“THEN WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING IT, YOU IMBECILIC ASSHOLE!” the masked one yelled, his entire posture screaming anger.

And Harry would definitely know what anger looked like.

“Cause its fucking funny to get you worked up like this” the clown said, L.J the masked man called him. It was probably his name.

There were other people sitting around the table now that Harry looked. A short-ish brown haired teenager who seemed to be moving randomly as he watched the two arguing people visibly amused. The teen had a pair of round goggles perched atop his head and Harry's hands itched to get his hands on them.

 Sitting next to the teen, swinging her legs back and forth against her chair was a small girl. Not as small as Harry himself so she was probably older than him. She was wearing a light pink dress that seemed to be stained with wet blood and a worn teddy bear propped up on the seat next to her. Her head was also covered in blood, in fact it looked like a portion of her head was completely caved in at her temple. 

She didn't seem bothered by it so Harry decided not to tell her.

And sitting down underneath them all was a large dog. Not the Ripper kind of dog, who were small and feral, but a large Husky looking dog that would seem totally normal if not for the almost deranged smile on its snout and the big patch of what looked to be dried blood covering its front.

It was laying against the wooden floor with its head resting against folded paws and Harry thought it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

Tearing his eyes away from the big dog that already seemed to have eyes on him when nobody else did, Harry was met with the sight of the masked man trying to strangle the clown.

He couldn't stop the high pitched, breathy giggle that escaped his mouth and immediately all eyes were on his bloodied form. At the sight of a small bloodied child clad in nothing but an oversized T-Shirt that slipped off his shoulders, clutching a bloody knife and a bottle filled with something to his chest, they all turned to the teen holding the child's hand for an explanation.

“Jeff, did y-you kidnap a child? Why the fuck did you take a kid? You don’t even like kids and w-why is it covered in bl-blood?” The teen with the cool goggles was the first one to speak, bringing his gaze off of Harry and onto Jeff.

The teen in question sighed, releasing Harry's hand and pinching at the bridge of his nose, “I’m almost a hundred percent sure Slenderman will want the kid, and if not then he’s some different sort of fucked up thing but I couldn’t just leave him where I found him” Jeff stated, sounding tired.

The brown haired teen -the one Jeff had called Toby- made a face at Jeff’s words, “are you sure? I m-mean you're not all there on the best of days, s-so whose to say you didn’t just grab a random kid and run?”

While Jeff was distracted trying to convince the people in the room that ‘No, I did not steal a kid’ ‘yes, I’m sure’ ‘Could one of you please just get Slenderman’, harry walked over to the table, feet silent against the wood to crouch lightly in front of the large dog laying under it.

The dog's head perked up as Harry crouched in front of it and he tentatively held out his hand for the dog to sniff. The dog did sniff his hand and when it didn't seem to mind Harry, he reached out to scratch the dog behind its ears. The dog seemed to enjoy the petting so Harry continued petting dutifully with his small hands.

“You are a big doggy, not a small doggy and you’re very soft. I like the big doggies, not the small doggies. Not like Ripper, No, no, no. Ripper likes to eat freaks and I'm a freak so Ripper tried to go chomp chomp chomp’’ Harry sang softly under his breath, his teeth clamping together on the last three words. His voice was soft and breathy with a distinct raspiness to it. The room had gone silent around him and his voice must have carried farther than he thought because there was a soft ‘what the fuck’ from behind him. 

He didn't turn around, he just kept petting the doggy, his knife and bottle still clutched close to his heart.

Jeff just sighed heavily as he watched the newest member of the manor -because if the kid wasn't one of them, Jeff would become a pacifist- sing creepily while petting the dog.

At least he was living up to his new occupation.

“Can somebody please just go find Slenderman?’’ The scar-faced teenager said, just absolutely done with everything. Dealing with everyone in the mansion was always a test of Jeff's patience and he didn't even get to kill the Dursley family. He knew that the kid deserved to kill them more than he did but it didn't help the fact that he had been looking forward to killing them.

"There shall be no need for someone to fetch me" a static laced voice drawled from the center of the room "I have been here for quite some time".

Standing in the center of the room was the tallest person Harry had ever seen. He had chalk white skin and was lacking any and all facial features, his face made up only out of flat plains. He was wearing a black suit and a red piece of cloth around his neck, which in Harry’s opinion looked really cool. There seemed to be static emanating from his very being, resonating through Harry's head like sandpaper. It wasn't as unpleasant as it could have been, but it did not bother him that much.

Harry gave the dog one last pat before standing up shakily and padding towards the tall man. He came to a halt right in front of the tall man and he had to tilt his head all the way back to look up at the blank face.

“You a-are really tall mister skeleton and I-I like the red thing on your neck. C-can I touch it?’’ Harry said, eyes fixated on the taller beings tie. There was quiet for a moment before the man crouched down, one gloved hand loosening the red fabric from around his neck, and passing the soft fabric to the child in front of him. It wasn't as if he didn't have more of them anyways so why not give one to the newest mentally unstable child that would surely be coming into his care. He could feel the frayed tether from when the child had finally snapped, the balance between dark and light finally breached.

It was always a gift to have a new child around. The power they emitted adding itself to the vast reserve that help make up the dimension that housed them. The added power boost was always welcomed, even if it was not necessarily needed. It would be a millennia before the power he himself contained ran dry, and that wouldn’t even touch the reserves that came from each of his proxies. So, each child was an added benefit, which meant it never hurt to be in their good graces.  

Harry grabbed for the bright fabric, his eyes lighting up from behind cracked lenses. He shifted his other belongings around in his hold so he could run small hands over the silky fabric. He giggled at the feeling of the smooth fabric under his fingers, clutching it closer to his chest, before looking back upwards to the faceless man. He smiled shyly up at the blank face then silently turned around and padded back to the table, where he once again crouched down and began to pet the dog.

The group, who had been collectively holding their breath as the small child approached the boss. Unknown to Harry this would be a prime deciding factor in if he would stay in the mansion in the woods. Everyone in the room knew that if the child wasn't like them, wasn't snapped, that Slenderman would kill him where he stood. Jeff held his breath even when he knew what he had seen, that there was no chance in hell that the kid wasn't one of them, because Slenderman was undoubtedly the strongest one here. Hell! They wouldn't even be here if not for Slendy.

But then the faceless being gave the kid his tie and Jeff new the kid would live to see another shitty fucking day.

Chapter Text

"What an odd creature you have brought to us” Slenderman said as he straightened his posture and adjusted the lapels of his suit jacket. “He has undoubtedly snapped, but what did he do to draw your attention, Jeffery?"  The tall man asked, turning towards the immortal serial killer.

“Well,” the killer started, leaning back on his heels “I was just watching the family I picked out, nothing out of the ordinary. But there was another kid living in the house” he said “I thought it might be like a housekeeping midget at first, but no it was a kid” Jeff was gesturing as he talked, really getting into the story

“And I was like “okay I’ll just kill that kid too” but tonight when I was in the parents room, waiting to kill them, I heard footsteps coming down the hall so I hid in the back of the room. I thought I would have to wait longer of quietly kill the witness, but a fucking kid covered in way to much blood for it to be just his own walked in -you see that bottle he’s holding?”

At the gathered group's affirmations Jeff continued.

“-yeah it’s got like a couple eyeballs in it and the ones missing are in the kids stomach now!”

E.J looked curious at that (as curious as a blank mask could look)

“He ate them?” Sally asked, looking towards the black haired boy that was petting the dog as she almost vibrated in excitement. The brown haired girl was looking forward to having another kid to play with. It got kinda lonely in the big mansion all by herself.

“Yeah, just fucking popped it into his mouth like a jawbreaker! And that’s not even starting on the weird chains he used to hold down his parents? Aunt and Uncle? Foster parents? Kidnapper’s? I don’t know, but the chains were sharp, black in color and seemed to come out of the kids wrists and neck” Jeff’s smile stretched even more gruesomely as he described the gore he had witnessed.

Slenderman once again turned towards the newest inhabitant where he was crouched with one hand giving Smile Dog a vigorous petting while the other clutched his only possessions tightly to his frail chest.

"Child" Slenderman said, calling the child’s attention back to him. Once those sunken eyes had focused on the tall being, Slenderman continued "if it would not trouble you, could you show me your chains?"

The boy stared at Slender for a second, before nodding vigorously. Nobody had ever wanted him to show them anything unless it was something that would get him in trouble and these people were being so nice! They hadn’t hurt him even a little bit and Jeff said he did a good job when he got Auntie and Uncle all bloody!

“Mhmm I can d-do it! I can do it!” Harry said excitedly as he nodded.

He stood shakily from his crouch, unstable now that he wasn’t braced against the dogs thick fur, swaying on his feet before he found his balance.

Ignoring the multiple gazes that were upon him with practiced ease, Harry squinted his dull eyes in concentration as he tried to recall his new appendages.

It was harder now that the pain in his body had dulled somewhat and it didn’t seem like he was in immediate danger, it felt like sand rubbing grittily against some sort of hard surface, the feeling dragging uncomfortably against his rib cage.

Pushing through the slight discomfort, Harry was elated to feel the pain in his neck and wrists return because that meant he was doing it right and he could show Jeff (again) and his new tall friend who gave him the pretty red thing!

With one last feeling of sand grinding against itself, chains once again burst out of his skin.

Just like the last time they were still sharp and glowing dully, illuminating Harry’s grey skin with sickly green, but this time they seemed more animated. They were curling around chair legs and seemingly caressing their boy tenderly.

Some wrapped gently around the boys arms, securing his meager possessions even more securely into their boys hold, while others smoothed themselves gently against grey skin and bloodied fabric, soothing their boy like a mother would her child.

And even as the ones that had wrapped themselves tightly against various pieces of furniture left deep gashes against the old wood, the ones wrapped around their boy left not a single mark and they never would unless he told them to.

The others watched with varying reactions as the small sickly child was wrapped up snugly in what they could tell was a deadly weapon if the damage to their kitchen furniture was saying anything.

It was as if the extra appendages were warning them. “Stay away, don’t hurt our boy, we’ll hurt you back worse” the said silently, only seemingly projecting intent. There was no gender associated with the chains aura, just the raw feeling of -comfortdefendourshurtthem- towards Harry and -protectoursthreatourshurtyoustayaway- to everyone else in close vicinity to them and their boy.

It didn’t really affect any of the other people (could they really be called people) as the were all used to the aura of Jeff’s manic episodes, Sally’s games, L.J’s rages and the feel of everyone else’s episodes.

And even those feelings couldn’t compare to what it felt to be present during Slenderman’s rare moments of absolute rage.

“D-do you like them?” Harry asked the tall man as his chains rubbed his skin softly, like a light caress against his soul, soothing something that desperately needed to be soothed.

“I do think they are rather pretty, and they look very useful" Slenderman said, breaking the lull in noise that had fallen over the room “But could you put them away for the moment ?”

It was another quick agreement, before the chains disappeared in the blink of an eye, taking the green glow and the clinking of metal with them.

Harry shuddered at the loss of the soothing presence of his newly found weapon as he clutched his hands to his chest, holding his few items in white knuckled fingers.

“A-are you sure you like them? You’re n-not lyin’?” He had to be sure. Had to be sure that the tall man really liked them, so the tall man would let him stay.

“I am sure, small creature” the tall man replied, “could you tell me what circumstances caused your chains to appear?”

Everyone in the room perked up at the question. It was always a spectacle when a new creep finally shared their backstory, bets were made, arguments were had and sometimes it took years or decades before the story was told but the bets were always followed to a tee, no matter how many fights broke out.

“T-today was really bad, badder then it’s supposed to be ‘cause I was cold an’ hungry because Uncle put me outside in the r-rain and tha’ made me wet” Harry started talking slowly, shaking his head as if to shake off imaginary water droplets as his voice took on a babbling quality “and I-I didn’t get to eat, he just made me go to my cupboard, and then p auntie left and he-he made me! I didn’t want to but he made me, he’s not supposed to touch there, those are private!“

He was crouched down again, trying to make himself as small as possible as his mind raced. He hadn’t really had time to process what his Uncle had done to him. He didn’t even know what it was that had happened but he knew he hated more then anything else that had ever happened. It made him feel dirty and gross and he hated it, hated the feeling of big meaty hands against his skin. He wanted to peel the organ from his body so the phantom touches would leave.

“- but h-he put his privates there too! It hurt, it hurt! Harry doesn’t like it, please Harry will be good, I’ll be good I-I swear please!-“

He dropped what he was holding with a clatter as his hands moved against his skin. He clawed at his chest, trying as hard as he could to remove the phantom touches from his skin.

His arms were grabbed, and he kicked out on reflex, trying to get away. He writhed and screamed against the hold on his, twisting as he tried to dislodge himself

“No no nonononoNONONONOO! LET ME GO LET ME GOLETMEGOLETME-“ his voice raised into a a panicked screech before a sharp, quick pressure pressed against his neck and everything went dark and peaceful for Harry.

Toby’s grip on the child loosened slightly, but not enough to drop him, as the needle full of sedative that E.J had shoved into the kids neck fully knocked the kid unconscious.

He hefted the kid up, adjusting the small body to keep pressure of any injuries, before turning to the blue masked man.

“Y-you want me to take him up-upstairs?”

A sigh.

“Yeah put him on one of the beds, I’ll give him a general health check and dress any wounds he has now” E.J said, turning to walk out of the kitchen as he talked.

Toby just shrugged and followed after the elder leaving the other occupants in the room alone.

Slenderman had already disappeared, Sally had flounced of to who knows where, giggling to herself and Jeff sat still in his seat, contemplating what kind of chaos he had just brought into the manor as the dog somehow managed to give him a pitying look.

Chapter Text

Waking up was usually the down point of the day in Harry’s opinion. It meant heaving himself up with a sore body and leaving the relative safety of his cupboard, to trundle about at the will of whoever decided he had sinned by simply being alive.

This time it was different.

If Harry were to be asked, he would describe it as waking softly. His breathing slow and steady as he woke under a thick blanket for the first time he could remember in his short life.

His thoughts flowed like honey as his small fingers idly played with the creased seam of the blanket. It was the softest thing he had ever felt, the soft honey brown color one of the most soothing colors Harry had ever seen. Right at that moment he decided that if someone had left him alone with it, that it was his now.

He sat up slowly and was absolutely surprised at the lack of pain he felt. Instead, there seemed to be tightly packed bandages around his torso when he lifted what seemed to be a new shirt to get a better look at his wound (or apparent lack of). They were still there, if the bandages meant anything.

Satisfied with the inspection of himself, Harry gathered the blanket around his shoulders and finally looked around the room.

It was a doctor's office. It looked like the rooms that Harry would see on the gory doctor shows that Uncle Vernon would put on, before sitting himself and Harry in front of the Tellie. Harry knew that his uncle was trying to scare him and the first few times he had seen the bloodied bodies on screen he had been scared but after a while the fear had morphed more into a morbid interest.

Looking around the sterile room now, Harry could recognize some of the machines and metal tool thingies sitting on the counters. He didn’t know what any of them did but he could recognize them just fine.

He stood, his blanket falling around him like a cape as he padded towards the only window in the room. He lifted himself up onto his tippy toes to peer out the window and out into the trees that he had walked through last night with Jeff. 

With the light of the day shining through the mist, it was easier to see the outlines of the gnarled trees and make out some of the smaller details. There was moss creeping its way up most of the pale trunks, halting at various points upwards.

The glass fogged up with Harry’s breath as he pressed his face closer to the dew misted window.

The sound of a door opening behind him halted his inspection of the dreary woods as he whirled around. The blue masked man from last night was standing in the doorway, his mask still dripping a dreary sludge.

"Ah, I am glad to see that you have awoken" The man said, his grating voice breaking the fragile silence. "Are you in any horrible pain?" he continued, sounding incredibly bland.

Harry remained still for a moment, still startled by the man's abrupt entrance. The question was phrased quite uninterestedly, but it was the first time anyone had even thought to ask him about his wellbeing. That in itself was shocking. Harry was unsure of what to do with it.

“No? I don’t hurt that b-bad" Harry answered timidly, huddling the heavy blanket closer. 

“Good, well my name is Eyeless Jack, or E.J if you prefer" The newly named E.J said “I was sent upstairs to check on you, and in the event that you were awake, I was to bring you down for breakfast"

“I c-can eat?’’ They were gonna let him eat? But he hadn't even done anything to earn it, and he was still kinda full from the treats he had taken from his relatives.

A thin veil of discomfort seemed to pass over the masked face as he took in the child's words, but it vanished almost as soon as it had come. Harry wouldn't have noticed anything if he hadn't been hyper aware of his surroundings for his whole life. But E.J seemed to soften slightly as it had passed.

“Yes, you can eat, so if you would follow me, please” and with that E.J turned around and left the room. Harry stood still for a moment before hurting after the man, blanket trailing behind him like a train.

Stepping out the door and into the hall was like stepping into a completely different place. The walls were paneled with a dark wood, and the shabby, fraying carpet. The lack of windows and the cobwebs in the corners added to the dark feeling that permeated the hall. 

As he followed dutifully after the fast-walking E.J, Harry could have sworn that the darker patches staining the dusty carpet were a touch too dark to be dirt or mud, they looked a touch too much like dried blood to be anything else.

Walking towards the end of the hall, and beginning to go down the stairs, Harry reached up to rub at his tired eyes, before flinching slightly at the loud shout that reverberated through the stairway. As he descended into a more brightly lit room Harry stopped and stared in confusion at the scene occurring in front of him.

The clown was on the table again, standing this time as he yelled back and forth with the teenager that had the nice orange goggles that Harry wanted. Their voices were raised way too much, and Harry couldn't help the whimper that left him as the sound assaulted his ears. 

He wasn't heard over the yelling, and no one seemed to be paying attention to the small child, their eyes trained on the argument happening before them. It was an argument that happened all too often in the mansion, so often in fact that it was kinda part of the routine that they all vaguely followed. It went something like ‘wake up’ ‘breakfast’ ‘kill people that need killing’ lunch’ ‘watch Toby and L.J fight’ ‘dinner’ ‘sleep’ (usually there was more killing, night terrors, and spontaneous movie nights, then actually sleeping)

He didn't like yelling. It was still too soon for yelling to be anything, but terrifying for Harry. Maybe last night was a fluke, the adrenaline from getting out of Number 4 Privet Drive softened the fear response to the augment that had occurred in the kitchen last night.

The blanket was absurdly soft against his skin but did nothing to quell the panic that was welling within him. 

Harry whined again, and tugged his blanket up further, covering his face, and burying himself completely in the weighty cloth. E.J had stopped walking once he had entered the room, so it wasn't hard for Harry to shuffle forward and press himself as close as possible to the thin man. The body he was pressing against tensed a bit as he made contact but didn’t make any moves to move away.

The yelling stopped abruptly as Harry let out another whine that was muffled against the fabric of his blanket, the noise cutting off with a thump and a complaint as E.J gently spun around and scooped the small boy into his arms. Harry yelped at the arms around him, startled at the change in position, before positively melting at the feeling of sturdy arms secured around him. He tucked his head up against the cool body underneath him and relished in the feeling of being held gently for the first time.

There were definitely people talking but Harry couldn't pay any less attention if he tried, he was much too focused on soaking up as much contact as he could. He shifted closer as the body under him took a few steps, jostling him before he was shifted out of the comfortable hold, and gently set down on a firm wooden chair.

Harry briefly ached at the loss of contact, before he blinked dumbly as the blanket was pushed up over his head by white gloved hands. Harry peered up at E.J’s eyeless blue mask as he sniffled, his lips wobbling slightly. E.J didn't say anything, just stared for a moment, before he sighed, and moved away.

Now that the man wasn't standing in front of him, Harry could see that Toby (Jeff had called him that last night) and the clown were now sitting correctly in their chairs, (and not on the table for once) looking chastised. E.J moved to take a seat at his own chair.

“They are… sorry for their behavior” E.J said stiffly, eyeing the two individuals that he had sent scuttling to their chairs with a look (Though, said look had lost some of its effectiveness with the kid he was holding)

Neither of them seemed very sorry. It seemed like they were more wary of E.J, then sorry for yelling. The clown especially looked more like he was barely holding back from jumping right back up on the table and picking up the shouting match where it left off. The girl from last night was also sitting at the table along with a boy wearing green that he hadn't seen last night. Harry was beginning to wonder just how many people lived there.

The dog that Harry had spent most of his first moments in the house petting was once again sitting in the kitchen, eating bloody chunks of meat out of a large metal dog bowl.

Harry stopped his shameless staring when he heard someone pointedly clear their throat. He turned towards the sound, green eyes peering blankly at Toby, who was being nudged sharply by E.J’s pointy elbow.

“...W-would you like som-some waffles?” Toby asked tentatively, throwing a glare sideways when the clown snorted derisively. The girl in pink along with the boy in green were watching the scene with obvious amusement. 

“What's a-a waffle?” Harry asked. He vaguely knew that it was some kind of food from random snippets of conversion, but he had no real idea of what it actually was.

He must have said something wrong because Toby looked kind of like how Aunt Petunia had looked when Harry had given her a Mother's Day card that he had decided to make after seeing her reaction to the one Dudley had made for her. The look of utter disbelief quickly followed with disgust was almost completely mirrored by the look on the teens face. Harry flinched back a bit at the expression, but before he could get up and flee, Toby launched to his feet, and headed straight to the stove, grabbed some yellow square things, tossed them on a plate, and headed right back to the table where he set the plate on the table with a dull thunk, muttering about ‘atrocities’ and ‘how could someone not know what a waffle was?’, while he poured a sweet smelling golden liquid over the squares.

Harry drooled at the sweet smell that was wafting off the plate in front of him. He barely restrained himself from tearing into the food with his bare hand, only holding back because he hadn't been told he was allowed too.

He held himself still, staring intently between the plate and the face that was clad in bright orange goggles. Said teen stared right back at him, before making an impatient noise, and gesturing flippantly at the plate. Harry took this as permission and proceeded to do exactly what he wanted to do in the first place. 

Lunging forward, his blanket falling down around his waist, Harry's hands shot out and latched onto both bread squares, ignoring the silverware that E.J had slid next to his plate, and not minding how the syrup stuck to his skin as he stuffed it into his mouth as fast as possible, not caring about the possibility of choking. When the flavors finally registered with him, Harry actually did melt, sinking fully into the chair, and groaning happily through full cheeks.

A throat was cleared once again before E.J was talking again, taking charge while Harry looked at him through half-lidded eyes “I'm glad that you like the food. It is one of Toby's favorites so I am sure that he will tell you all about them at some point” an annoyed look at his fellow creep, who just grinned impishly back at him “I would like to introduce you to all the occupants of the mansion, but unfortunately it is only us five that are in at the moment”

Harry nodded as he chewed, keeping his eyes on the adult as the man made a move to introduce the rest of the people at the table.

“This is Ticci Toby” a hand raised from the brown haired teen “Laughing Jack or L.J as he prefers from people he knows” a lazy wave from the clown “the girl in pink is Sally” a more excited wave with the hand that wasn't clutching the same worn teddy bear that he had seen her with last night “and BEN Drowned, or Ben if you want to be less formal’’ the boy wearing green, who was apparently named Ben, leaned forward with a smile. His eyes were a weird mix of black and red, kinda scary looking, but his stare was mellowed out by the glint of mischief in his eyes.

Harry waved back slightly with one sticky hand, going right back to stuffing his face with the sweet treat that was apparently a waffle, before he realized that E.J hadn't told him what the dog was named.

“What’s the p-puppy's nam'?” he asked, voice muffled from the food in his mouth.

“His name is Smile Dog. He's not anyone's pet, and he does what he wants, but he won't hurt you if you respect him” E.J said.

Harry nodded at that. It sounded kinda like a more reasonable version of Aunt Petunia's rules. ‘Don't fuck up, and you won't get hurt’ except even when Harry did everying thing right with his aunt, he still got hurt. Maybe E.J wasn't lying about it but harry wouldn't hold out hope.

“A room has been cleared for you” E.J continued “and some necessities have been provided for you until someone can take you shopping in the normal world. Clothing and soap for if you would like to bathe, though some people here don't shower until forced” annoyed looks from everyone else at the table were thrown at the masked man who ignored them with practiced ease. “It's nothing substantial but it will work for now” he finished.

Harry nodded as he swallowed, though he was confused about why they would give him anything. He had the clothes he was wearing, and they were feeding him, and that's all he needed, but he nodded anyway because it was always easier to agree with adults. 

So, he nodded again and finished his food.

Chapter Text

After Harry had unashamedly licked up the last remnants of his breakfast, and as everyone else scattered to their own corners of the mansion, the girl named Sally had grabbed his hand, (she ignored his flinch) led him up three flights of stairs, blanket once again trailing after him, down the hall to stand in front of a shoddy, gray wooden door. The girl seemed to bounce in place as she pushed the door open, pulling Harry into the room with her.

“This is your room!” Sally said, waving her hands at the room they had entered “it's kinda empty right now but we're gonna go shopping soon!”

It was a plain room, rough gray wood for the floor, dirty blue paint on the walls, and basic furniture. A simple bed, side table, and wardrobe, nothing extravagant. Definitely not as nice as one of Dudley’s rooms but it was clean, there were a few bundles sitting on the side table that were probably the things E.J said they got for him, and a thick blanket on the bed.

“I-it’s mine?” Harry asked, shocked. He had never had his own room before, even his cupboard had never really felt like it was completely his “are y-you sure?”

“Yup, and I'm going to help you decorate it later!” With that happy exclamation, Sally skipped out of the room, leaving Harry to stand there in muted shock. He stayed standing in the same spot for a minute before turning back to what was apparently his room.

There was dust stuck in the wooden grooves by his feet meaning that the room had been barely scrubbed. Aunt Petunia would never have let him leave any dirt on her tiles but for some reason seeing the crudely scrubbed floor made him giddy. He wiggled his bare feet against the cold wood with a giggle before he looked around the room. The bed looked comfortable, but Harry knew it wouldn't be safe. His eyes drifted to the standing wardrobe. It was standing on sturdy legs a foot off the ground, wide enough, and didn’t have drawers on the bottom so it would hold his weight, along with anything else Harry would bring in there with him.

Harry padded to the bed, ignoring the bundles on the small table (he could look at them later) and began tugging the comforter off the bed. It was heavier than it looked so he had to brace himself against the frame and tug at it until it fell to the floor with a thump. He proceeded to drag both his blankets to the front of the wardrobe. It opened with a screech that made Harry flinch. As he glared hatefully at the hinge; an itch worked its way down his arms.

Before his eyes the hinges on the wardrobe became glossy, and smooth. Harry stared at the pristine metal in silent wonder. He looked around, he had to make sure no one had seen him do something freakish, because no matter how much they had liked his chains there was always a chance that they wouldn't like the other things he could do. 

He let out a quiet sigh of relief when his eyes found no one spying on him. He pushed the wardrobe door open, and close, relishing in the complete lack of noise it made. He pushed it back and forth a few times before turning back to the blankets on the floor. 

Harry hauled them up, pushing the bulk of the weight with all his strength until he piled both the blankets at the bottom of the wardrobe. Both doors stayed wide open as he pushed the blankets around until they were shaped into a nest. Harry made sure his new soft yellow one was on top because it was way softer than the other one. He grabbed the pillow, and the sheets from the bed, and added them to his nest as well.

When he was done his new bed was soft, and it would definitely be warm. Warmer than his cupboard ever was.

There was a brisk knock on the door that startled Harry out of his awed reverie. He walked to the door, hesitating for a minute before opening it a crack. He peered out cautiously and was surprised when he didn't see anyone standing there. He caught something from the corner of his eyes, and he was overjoyed when he looked down to see his still blood stained-knife, bottle, and new shiny red fabric sitting on the wooden floor.

He let out a squeal as he bent down to scoop his things into his arms. He hurriedly shut the door, and scuttled straight back to the wardrobe, climbing in and shutting the door behind him. A floating ball of light appeared above his head, bouncing against the wooden ceiling as Harry gently placed his three most prized possessions into his pile of bedclothes. He tittered happily, the sound coming out in joyful chirps.

He nestled down into the softness, his breaths evening out into soft breathy snuffles as he gazed lovingly at his new things. He was happier in the past two days than he had ever been in his life. He was fed, given soft things, nobody had hurt him, and he hadn't had to do anything he didn't want to. He didn't know how long it would last but he would relish in the comfort as long as he could.

He felt warm, and weighted down, his eyes fluttering closed as his breath warmed the small wooden space. He felt safe. A tear slipped down his face at the realization. For once it was a happy tear.

For the first time he fell asleep feeling safe.

-

When Harry woke up, he was still warm, and soft. He sighed happily against his blankets, nuzzling deeper, trying to sink back into his warm darkness. 

It didn't work. He could feel his bandages pulling against his scabs, and he let out an unhappy grumble at the feeling, rolling over in his nest with a whine. He didn't want to get up at all. He wanted to sleep more. Why was his brain waking him up? Stupid brain!

Harry huffed, sitting upright, and pushing his door open. He squinted his eyes as light spilled into the wardrobe. He shuffled forward, before falling abruptly forward and landing on the ground with a solid thump. He whined against the floor. Why did he have to be awake?

He hefted himself to his feet, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he did. He rubbed his knuckles hard into his eyes, ignoring the bright colors that burst to life behind them. 

His hair was haloed with static, standing straight up on his head, making him look taller than his three feet. He didn't want to leave his room, but there was nothing for him to do in the wide-open space. Even in his cupboard he was able to at least distract himself somehow but there was a manic energy moving through his bones. He had to do something, had to move around.

He walked over to the table that held the previously ignored packages. They were wrapped in newspaper, but not taped close, just loosely wrapped. He reached for the closest one, slipping the paper off of the head sized package. Inside there was a plastic basket filled with bathroom items that Harry had only ever been allowed to look at. Bottles of soap, bars of soap, a toothbrush, and a few other things that Harry couldn't name.

He marveled at the items for a minute before moving onto the next package. It contained clothes, more clothes than Harry had ever had to himself. A couple shirts, a few pairs of pants, multiple pairs of socks, and underwear, all neutral colors, black, white, beige.  All necessary things, things that Harry had never been able to have without cost. 

Harry ran his fingers over the different types of fabric with awe. He rubbed a shirt against his cheek, relishing in the soft feeling against his flesh. He sighed happily, pulling all the cloth articles into a pile before bundling them into his arms, and trotting back to his nest. He dropped all his new clothes in the back corner of the wardrobe. He stuffed the clean pile as far back as it would go and moved a corner of his blanket to cover it.

He walked back over to the table, his hands reaching for the last package. 

Harry gasped as the paper slid away to reveal a stuffed toy. It was a black rabbit made out of a rough fabric. It was standing upright like a human and had long floppy ears hanging off of its head. But its most prominent details were the large toothy grin sitting under its green button eyes, and the green details that covered its body. Its ears and legs had horizontal green stripes on them, a round green heart on its little tummy, and tying it all together was a shiny green bow wrapped snugly around its neck.

Harry gazed at it with watery eyes, his lips wobbling as he clenched the stuffed animal. He gripped it to his chest, small fingers digging hard into the toy. The stitched on sharp teeth grinned at him, and he had never been happier in his life. 

Harry's cheeks were wet, and he reached up to scrub the tears off his face. They got him his own toy. They cared enough, even if it was only a little bit, they cared enough to get him a toy. Its creepy smile was the cutest thing Harry had ever seen. He rubbed its soft tummy, tracing the felted heart as he did. 

Harry clutched the toy as he skipped back to his wardrobe, climbing back inside, and closing the door behind him. He was still tired, no matter how much he had slept that day, so he was going to take another nap in his new soft nest. He reveled in the small space, loving how his breathes would warm the space.

He cuddled into his fluffy yellow blanket and set his new stuffie down in front of his face where he could see it. Then he grabbed one of his new shirts, laying it down on top of the rabbit, tucking it tight around the toy like a blanket. 

“T-there you go” Harry said softly “you g-gotta stay warm, because i-it h-hurts when yo-you get too cold”. He tucked the rabbits' floppy ears into the makeshift blanket as well, making sure that it wouldn't get cold at all. After he finished his task, Harry pulled his own blanket over himself too. 

Harry wrapped an arm around the blanketed rabbit, pulling it closer to his chest, breathing against the floppy ears.

This was probably a dream. Nobody had ever even tried to help him. Harry would probably wake up back in the cupboard, cold, and bleeding. If this was really a dream, all Harry could hope for was that the thing Uncle Vernon had done to him was part of the dream too.

It was really nice though, Harry really, really hoped that this wasn't a dream.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up to a sharp knock on the door of his wardrobe. He startled awake, bumping his head on the thin paneling of his wall. Shuffling noises and sleepy grumbles sounded from within the wardrobe before a fluffy haired boy swung open one of his doors with a sharp push, causing the person standing in front of the wardrobe to take a step back.

The masked man straightened up as he watched the small messy haired child crawl out of his wardrobe. He caught a glimpse of the fabric and miscellaneous things the boy had piled onto the wooden bottom. E.J was not really surprised that the boy seemed to feel more secure in a smaller face, so he hadn't batted an eye at the stripped bed. 

The black-haired child blinked sleepily up at him, the sight of the stuffed animal that had been hastily wrapped in newspaper, that was gripped loosely in the kid's hand was worth the whining he had had to endure from Toby. Seriously, the immature immortal teen should learn to do what he was told for once.

Harry rubbed at an eye, blinking against the sudden light. His mind unfogged slightly at the sight of an adult, and he straightened up as much as he could.

It was a comical sight. A clearly half asleep seven-year-old standing with his back ramrod straight while clutching a stuffed toy and rubbing the crust from his eyes.

“Good morning child, I see you slept well” he threw a mildly amused look at the nest in the wardrobe. Well as mildly amused as a blank mask could look. The boy just continued to blink sleepily up at him so E.J kept talking “there's food in the fridge for breakfast, leftovers, nothing fancy but you can eat whatever you want from it, whenever you would like”.

Harry looked up at the man disbelievingly. He could have whatever. He was never allowed to even touch the fridge at Privet drive unless it was to get food for his relatives, but Mr. E.J had just given him blanket permission to get whatever he wanted from the fridge.

“There are some rules here that we should go over before you completely settle in” the man continued as if he hadn't just altered Harry's entire world view. E.J made sure the boy was listening before he continued “I will give you a brief rundown of the most important ones and you will be given a full list later.”

Seeing the boy nod, E.J continued “the basic list consists of ‘Don't kill people-maiming is allowed’ ‘Keep your room clean’ ‘Do your chores’ and do not write on the notes in the forest. They are part of Slender Man's -The Tall Man as you call him- Eight Pages game, and you would be surprised at how many times people have drawn on them.”

Harry didn't know what an Eight Pages was (Yet) but he would do his best not to mess with the tall man's things.

“The entire list is quite a bit longer but the majority of them will not be in effect until you're older or until you can get out and kill people.”

Harry perked up at that tidbit of information, he had gotten his first taste of murder (Salty, metallic, and gel like) and he was looking forward to being able to do it again. Maybe he could look for people like Uncle Vernon. Even thinking the name sent a shudder down his spine, a tingle that would be soothed if he could kill something like Vernon again.

“Later today someone will take you to the other world to purchase items for your room and your person. Clothes, toys and the like, when you return you will be given the entire list of rules." With the end of his speech, E.J turned to exit the room, beckoning Harry to follow after him. 

Harry hastened after the man, the plush toy rabbit clutched in his arms, its soft head braced against his chin. It wasn't a very big toy, but then again Harry wasn't a very big boy, so the rabbit took up all the space in his spindly arms. 

Harry knew that toys had to have names, all of Dudley's toys had names, stupid things like Captain or Booger. Harry would not give his rabbit a stupid name like that. He absentmindedly followed Mr. E.J while he stared down at his stuffie. He liked the teeth, the big feral grin it had stitched under green button eyes.

Bitey, Nibbles, Chomper, Chomps? Something with the teeth? Nom-Noms? He worked the name around in his mouth. Nom-Noms, he liked the way it rolled off his tongue. He imagined the toy would definitely bite someone if it had too. 

He nodded decisively to himself, that would be the bunny's name. Nom-Noms the grinning stuffie. 

Harry startled when he walked right into Mr. E. J’s back, stumbling back from the impact. The man had stopped walking. He straightened up, looking around the room the E.J had stopped them in. It was a spacious, windowless room that was lit with various lamps and a large screen TV connected to a multiple of wires and blinking boxes. The TV was set on a squat wooden end table against a far wall. It was circled with old looking couches, three in total, the worn fabric all in different shades of green. 

An equally shabby red rug carpeted the entire floor. It was quite dirty, small puffs of dust drifting up around Mr. E.J’s larger shoes. 

The boy wearing green with the blond hair and black-red eyes was sitting on one of the lighter colored couches, right up in front of the television, his eyes glued to the screen, and a game controller held firmly in his hands. 

The boy waved absentmindedly in their direction, not looking up from the game blaring across the screen. 

Mr. E.J paid the boy no mind as he crossed the room, waving Harry over to one of the unoccupied couches as he walked through a different doorway. Harry gingerly sat down on the very edge of the darker couch, burying his face in the top of his stuffie. He peeked through his eyelashes, peering at the flashing television.

It was some colorful game that was styled kinda like the Mario Boss game that Dudley played on the Gameboy he had gotten for Christmas, not that the overweight boy had been any good at it. The game was blocky and pixelated. There were bloody faces set as a background, some with tongues out, some with blood dripping out of their mouths.

As Harry watched he could see what looked like human legs kicking around in the air from where the owners of said legs seemed to be buried face down. Harry watched closer as what looked like a dog with a human head that had been smashed onto the animal's head ran onto the screen. 

A green clad character used a wooden bat to bash the creature head in before he continued walking right into an eyeball monster. Harry watched in fascination as the game continued. He shifted Nom-Noms in his lap so the rabbit could watch the game as well.

Harry stayed like that; eyes glued on the screen watching the game with his plushie until he was startled out of his reverie hours later by Mr. E.J returning with Jeff in tow.

“Jeff here is going to take you out shopping to get you your things” Mr. E.J said as he handed Harry a small pair of shoes “here are some shoes that should work for now and you can continue wearing the clothes you have on or now” he said, gesturing to Harry's pants and shirt.

‘’Yeah, let's get going kid, the stores won't be open all day” the scarred teen said from his place behind Mr. E.J “put the shoes on so we can blow this joint.”

Harry did as he was told, setting Nom-Noms beside him on the couch and pulling on the velcro strapped trainers. They were basic white sneakers, but they were nicer than any other trainers he had ever had. 

Harry went to stand up when he remembered his toy. He frowned a bit at the thought of leaving Nom-Noms at the mansion alone. He gathered his fuzzy companion into his arms once again, looking up at the older men.

“Uhm can I-I bring Nom-Noms?” Harry asked, uttering his first words of the day. His words skipped less than usual, only one stutter in his whole sentence. His voice brought the attention of the other two people back to him from where they were talking amongst themselves.

“What the fuck is a “Nom-Noms” brat” Jeff asked.

“I-its my toy” Harry said, suddenly self-conscious about his question. They would probably think it was stupid, he was stupid, why did he have to ask such a-

“Yeah, sure whatever” was Jeff’s flippant answer. Harry stared at him in silent disbelief for a moment before grinning up at him with slightly too sharp teeth, not that Harry knew about the subtle changes to his teeth but Eyeless Jack and Jeff the Killer definitely noticed.

The boy just kept getting more interesting.

-

Harry clutched onto one of Jeff's pale hands as he was once again led through one of the wispy portal things that led to and from the forest. When he blinked away the fog, they were standing on the edge of a different wood, looking out onto a small tourist town that was bustling with noisy families.

Jeff had his hood pulled down low around his face as he led Harry to a less occupied part of town. There was an obvious difference in the quality of the roads and buildings. Cracking sidewalks and crumbling paint led the way to a tall building crammed in between two others.

He was led to a little storefront where the frosted window proudly proclaimed its name “Little Red Thrift Shoppe.” 

The bell above the door jangled as it was pushed open. Harry gingerly followed Jeff inside where he was assaulted by the smell of mothballs and laundry detergent. He scrunched his nose at the smells, bringing Nom-Noms up to bury his tiny nose in the fabric.

The inside of the thrift shoppe was cluttered with rows and rows of various clothing items. Reds, greens, blues and all sorts of colors bursting off the racks.

“This is where we usually buy clothes, shoes, and other odds and ends. It's cheap and the owner knows how to mind his business” Jeff said ‘‘It's sort of a family tradition at this point. The Berristers family owns the place. They aren't human, but they aren't completely non-human either. At least one person in every generation mans the store. They sell to us and to humans, they don't care either way” The teen shrugged at the information. That tidbit of information was something he had known for years.

Harry on the other hand was rolling a certain part of Jeff's sentence around in his mind. Non-human? He said that they were non-human. Was he not human anymore? 

“Am I-I still human?” Harry asked, staring up at the pale teen. 

“Nope” he said, popping his mouth on the p “you snapped, a tether or something inside your mind snapped, yadda, yadda, yadda, whatever Slendy says in his long-ass speech” he was clearly mocking the tall man's speech “but when it happened you… changed so to speak. You aren’t human anymore and you'll never be human again, you won't age like a human anymore and you'll be stronger than one too. There will be other changes as well, but you won't know what they will be until it happens because it's different for every non-human.’’

Jeff looked unbothered as he completely changed what Harry thought about himself. He just kept rifling through racks of clothing, occasionally dropping a piece to the floor to add to the slowly growing pile. 

Harry didn't know how to feel about not being human anymore. 

…. but nothing had been good when he was human. Everything had hurt all the time, he had never been happy, never been hugged. But in the two days he had been changed, snapped, he had been held, given clothes and nobody had hurt him. No one had gotten mad at him. 

He felt safer than he had ever felt.

He liked it there.

He wanted to stay there.

He squished his cheeks against Nom-Noms, and continued watching Jeff pile clothes on the floor. He was getting his own things, wearing new clothes and shoes, and he loved it. So, he stopped thinking about his own mortality and instead picked a pair of black striped pants off the rack.

“That's okay t-then, I didn't like being a human anyways.”

Chapter Text

-two weeks later-

The monster was silent as it stalked his prey, peering down at its target through glowing, feverish green eyes.

It tracked the brown-haired beings every moment as it waited for the perfect moment to strike. It watched from its hiding place, watched every single twitch as it happened. 

Its hands convulsed with the urge to curl into claws, but it held itself back. It had been waiting for the perfect moment to grab what it so dearly wanted. It had wanted the bright colored item ever since it had first laid eyes on it. The creature shifted on its heels, positioning itself in the perfect position to strike.

But it had to wait, and wait, and wait, and… now!

Harry lunged from his place hidden behind the banister, dropping down onto the unsuspecting teens shoulders with both of his small feet. He grabbed the orange goggles with a two-handed clawed grip, ignoring the torrent of violent swears that Toby let out from his place beneath him.

Harry pushed off from Toby’s shoulders, dodging the flailing arms that tried to stop him. His feet hit the ground with a thump, jolting his knees a little bit before Harry took off in a sprint.

Harry squealed at the curses and stomp of bigger feet following behind him. He clutched his new goggles to his chest, the ones he had been eyeing for weeks. Giggling as he ran around corners, going as fast as he could through the various halls in the mansion.

He turned around for a second, catching sight of Toby chasing after him, his expression more of annoyance than actual anger. 

Before he had become non-human, Harry would have been scared at even that expression being directed at him, but still no one had hurt him, even two weeks later, so he took a risk. He was taking something that wasn't his, to see what would happen.

Without warning Harry slammed into someone, dropping his new prize, and bouncing harshly against the floor.

Before Harry could even look at who he had crashed into, he was grabbed roughly around the wrists and hoisted into the air at an angle that sent his shoulders screaming.

He let out a startled shriek as he was dangled in front of a glaring face, his pulse rocketing as he was glared at by a pale face. Long black hair hung limply around the stark white face, golden eyes making a startling contrast with the black and white.

Harry's vision was beginning to go spotty as his breaths evolved into stuttery wheezes.

He wasn't seeing the unknown man anymore. The hold on his wrists wasn't strange gold strands, having shifted to skin grating rope.

Harry didn't hear Toby yelling at the strange man to ‘PUT HIM DOWN, YOU IDIOT!’ as he sunk fully down into his panic.

Uncle Vernon’s breath stank from where he was panting against his face as Harry thrashed under the man, desperately trying to wiggle free. He was sobbing against the painful thrusts, his chest burning with the lack of air from his gasps.

“You like this don't you” grunted out Uncle Vernon “you like finally being useful for something.”

Harry shook his head, the pitch of his sobs rising in hysteria. He didn't like it, he didn't.

“Well, that's too bad for you then, eh” Vernon said grinning, his beady eyes shining with malice and the same emotion Harry had seen before. The one that made harry want to tear them out “because I like it, and I'm going to do it again, and again, and again…”  he leaned down to speak directly into Harry's ear as he talked, before his voice trailed off with a grunt, his breath fanning against Harry's ear, as the man kept thrusting.

Harry tried to say something, tried to apologize for whatever his uncle thought he had done but he could barely get out a stuttered ‘sorry’ without choking on his sobs.

Vernon seemed to notice his weak attempts at speaking if the amused glint that formed in his glazed eyes said anything.

A meaty hand lashed across his face, leaving a painful sting in its wake.

Harry wasn't aware of his body at the moment, wasn't aware of the gasping wails leaving his mouth as he hung from the unknown man's strings with his eyes blown wide.

Said man hastily set the writhing child down onto the wooden floorboards, while Toby moved to kneel down next to the boy. 

Toby pulled the kid onto his lap, being mindful of his flailing arms. He didn't really have any idea of what he was supposed to do with a panicking kid. Sally never freaked out like the boy and Toby had never really had to calm someone down. He was more about killing whiny brats then comforting them.

But this particular whiny brat was one of them now, another non-human joining the ranks, so Toby pushed the kids head against his chest, cradling the small boy and rocking slightly.

He looked over to where Puppeteer was standing, gesturing for the disinterested looking man to help him out.

The man huffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms across his trench coat clad chest, before his eyes widened minutely in the slightest bit of alarm.

“Toby” The Puppeteer warned, pointing to something that Toby hadn't noticed “his arms.” 

Toby looked down at the still thrashing boy, abruptly noticing that the kid's movements had gone from uncoordinated flailing to purposeful clawing at his stick thin arms. Blood dripped from the ever-deepening scratches as Harry’s nails kept tearing at the flesh.

Toby batted the kid’s hands away from his arms, not grabbing them because he had no idea what would happen. If Puppeteer just grabbing the kid could trigger something like this, Toby didn't know what actually grabbing him would do.

“H-hey kid, you need to s-stop doing that, okay?” he said, batting the kid’s tiny hands away again as he tried to go right back to mauling himself.

The wailing had died down a bit as Toby rocked the boy, but his breath was still whining through his teeth.

“Alright, can y-you breathe w-with me?” That was right? Breathing was important, so he was right for trying to get the kid breathing like a normal non-human, undead, monster. See he was so smart, no matter what L.J had said.

Harry tried to do what Toby told him to do, but his lungs wouldn't cooperate with him. He knew he was sitting on the brown-haired teens lap, his head resting on a cool chest as he tried to calm down. It was harder to be scared when he was being held without malice. No harsh hands against his body as he cried against a dark sweatshirt, tears soaking into the fabric, darkening it even more.

When Harry was finally able to suck in a full breath, he almost started crying again with relief. He could feel the twin organs stretch inside his chest, burning with strain. The inhale made his lungs ache painfully for a moment before soothing themselves on the next exhale.

He sat there for a long while just listening to the rumbling breaths of Toby. Once in a while the breathes would be interrupted by the teen talking to someone else. Probably that golden eyed man that he had run into.

Harry’s mind slowed to a crawl as he completely relaxed in the older teens' hold, his tensed limbs going limp as he went slack against the body below him.

As he calmed down Harry's mind went back to the reason he had been running in the first place.

He tilted his head to peer up at Toby. he kept staring until the teen stopped talking to the other man and glanced down at the child in his lap.

“Can I-I keep them p-please?” he asked when they made eye contact, unlocking their gazes after a moment, uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact, vaguely noticing that his stutter had come back in his moment of stress.

Toby looked confused for a moment before realization dawned in his eyes. The goggles, he had forgotten that this had only happened because the brat stole his goggles. He looked around until his eyes fell onto his goggles. He weighed the question in his mind. He did have other pairs and it wouldn't be that much trouble to give the poor kid one of them and judging by the items he had brought with him, and the little items disappearing from the mansion, the kid was a budding kleptomaniac.

It was little things like pencils and forks, but they were definitely being taken. It hadn’t started happening until the kid got there and aside from L. J’s more annoying random bouts of mass theft, nobody else really took things. 

But nobody was going to tell the traumatized seven-year-old that he couldn't have a few pencils, well… maybe the more assholish residents of the mansion would but they hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet.

And it didn't help his decision that he had developed a soft spot for the boy, it was hard not to like the little gremlin, with his murderous tendencies and big glowing eyes (Toby didn't even think the kid knew that his eyes were like glow sticks)

“Yeah s-sure” Toby sighed “y-you can have them t-this time, b-but only this time.”

Harry grinned weakly up at him with his too sharp teeth, before slumping over unconscious.

Toby sighed again, before he hoisted himself off the floor, dragging the limp child with his. There was blood on the floor from the cuts on the kid’s arms. He shifted the small body so that the kid was resting over his shoulder, hooking his goggles up to his free hand with his foot (well they weren't his goggles anymore) and making his ways towards E. J’s medical room. 

Puppeteer followed behind him, a curious glint in his eyes.

“So… new Proxy then?” he asked from his place by Toby’s shoulder.

“Yep, Jeff brought him back two weeks a-ago” Toby answered “at f-first I thought he just kidnapped a kid, but the kid is one o-of us. A-all the way from a traumatic backstory to brutally m-murdering his family,  y'know but he re-really didn't h-hold back on the traumatic b-backstory.”

“How bad?” Puppeteer asked with a hum. They arrived at the door leading to the med bay. Puppeteer pushed the door open, allowing the brown-haired teen to enter. 

Toby nodded a silent thanks as he set the kid down on the same cot he had used when he first got there.

“Very” Toby replied as he shifted through a drawer for disinfectant and bandages “he lived with his aunt a-and uncle, they kept him in a cupboard and t-the uncle was definitely a pedo. Harry here killed his co-ousin before he went and killed b-both a-adults. Thats w-where Jeff found him.”

Puppeteer scowled at the bit about the boy's uncle. The Proxy’s may be murdering, torturing psychopaths but most of them disliked pedophiles. 

Puppeteer watched as Toby wrapped the wound on the boy's arms. As he did, he also finally took a moment to observe the kids' appearance.

He was way too small to be healthy, bird thin wrists and sunken eye sockets. A Lichtenberg figure that branched down across the right side of his face, cutting through his eyebrow, and trailing over his paper-thin eyelid with a halo of fluffy black hair framing his gaunt face. He could see fading bruises peeking out from the basic outfit he wore. Black and white long striped socks poking out from straight-legged gray pants, topped off with a black long-sleeved shirt.

Puppeteer finished his examination at about the same time that Toby finished wrapping the boy's arms. 

“Alright, thats done” he said as he turned away from the boy on the bed, back to his newly returned friend “now l-lets go so you can t-tell me how you fucked up your job th-this time.”

Puppeteer rolled his eyes, turning to leave the room.

Before he exited through the door, he saw Toby gently set his goggles besides the little boy’s, small pale hand.

Itty bitty brat had him wrapped around his finger.

Chapter Text

Harry wanted to hurt someone. 

He woke up in pain, his memories of how he got into the same hospital cot he had woken up the first day he had been at The Ark a hazy blur of panic and terror, but he remembered the unknown’s eyes and scowl in perfect clarity.

How dare he, Harry seethed as he threw himself off the bed, landing with a harsh thump. How dare someone come and ruin Harry's happiness! The man wasn't allowed to come into Harry's home and remind him of Uncle Vernon!

The glowing chains materialized around him as he stomped to the door. They swirled around him, reacting to his rage, and tugging him down the hall.

It took Harry a moment before he realized they were pointing him towards something, trying to lead him in a certain direction. Somehow, he knew that they knew where the gold-eyed man was, and he was once again giddy at his ownership of the deadly weapons.

He followed the tugging as it led him down the stairs, past the kitchen, out a smudged glass sliding door, and out into the scraggly backyard.

The ground was bare except for the random patches of crabgrass that had been there for forever, seemingly un-killable even with the number of toxic substances that made their way into the dirt. The soil was so tainted with toxins that nothing else would grow except for some specific plants that needed the toxicity to thrive with the exception of crabgrass because it's a stubborn bastard.

There was also a large pile of loose dirt off to the left-hand side of the yard. It stood over twelve feet high from the bottom to the top. This was where unusable and unwanted body parts and other illicit things were disposed of when there was nowhere else to put them. 

The amount of ravaged human bodies that had passed through that soil were uncountable, the pile was honestly mostly only made up of composted human remains at this point.

Fog drifted through the trees, graying out what little light that was trying to reach the twig carpeted floor, another reason why nothing would grow in the toxic earth. But even with the ever-present fog blocking the view, Harrys glowing eyes locked on to the golden-eyed man's figure with ease.

His eyes locked onto the figure of the unknown man who was sitting lightly on top of the gray wooden fence, one foot on the ground and the other resting on top of one of the dilapidated rungs of the fence as he sat there with a cigarette in hand.

Harry sent his chains hurtling towards the man without a second thought.

The sharp metal whistled ominously as half a dozen inch thick chain links flew towards their target at a single thought from their master. The black clad man dodged forward barely a moment before the sharp metal would have rendered him bloody, the chains impacted the wooden fence posts instead.

The brittle wood crunched harshly as it gave out under the sudden onslaught, the glowing chains cleaving through the fence posts with no resistance. 

The golden eyed man had jumped away from the oncoming projectiles, landing lightly on his feet a good distance away from the now broken fence posts. He turned his eyes towards where the chains had come from and wasn't that surprised to see the new creep standing just outside the doorway, teeth bared, and tiny hands clawed at his sides like a wild thing.

Puppeteer cursed internally, of course the kid was going to throw a hissy fit about being scared, even if it had been unintentional. He sighed as he shifted away from another wave of the metal chain as they rushed towards him.

It was normal for a new creep to react abnormally to being pushed out of their comfort zone so soon after they came to stay at the mansion. Puppeteer himself may or may not have gone on a violent rampage the first time someone tried to haze him (not that he was trying to haze a toddler, he had standards) and he stood by the fact that it was a valid reaction to this day.

 Fight or flight, they would either become skittish or go batshit.

This kid had clearly chosen to fight.

The kid's choice of weapons, some glowing chains that were scarily sharp if the destroyed fence had anything to say, and the metal moved in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Puppeteers own strings.

The chains cleaved through the air at an unbelievably high speed, speeding towards their target with projected menace. 

Harry growled low in his throat when the man dodged his chains again and again. Why couldn't he just hold still? His patience was wearing thin because he just couldn't land a hit. The man even looked bored! Hands at his sides and a disinterested look on his ugly face.

Harry's temper snapped.

He lunged across the yard, hands outstretched in front of himself like claws. His small body moved unnaturally fast as he flew across the bare dirt, so fast that he took the black clad man by surprise, gold eyes widening a bit as Harry's hands latched onto the black trench coat he wore.

The man tried to wrench the kid off of him before he yelled out in more surprise than pain when the boy turned and dug his abnormally sharp teeth into the pale skin of Puppeteers wrist. It hurt like a bitch, but it was definitely tamer than other injuries he had had.

Harry's teeth were ripped out of the man's thin wrist with a sharp tug, a chunk of bloody flesh coming with them. Harry was dropped to the ground with a thud, his back flaring with pain before he jumped back to his feet.

The man watched in interest and disgust as Harry angrily chewed at the soft flesh in his mouth, his throat bobbing as he swallowed it down while he never once stopped glaring at the golden eyed man.

“What the fuck” Puppeteer demanded, somewhat hysterically as he clutched at the bleeding hole in his arm “what was that for?!”

“You hurt me, you made me think bad things.” Harry growled out, (it sounded more like a puppy than anything actually scary, but it was…. unnerving) his voice low.

“I don't know what the fuck you were thinking about,” he responded, "but why did you bite me?”

Harry didn't reply, he just bared his bloody teeth as he went to lunge at the man again.

He didn't get very far before a pair of arms wrapped snugly around his middle. 

Harry growled some more as he writhed against the study hold of the person behind him, yelling wordlessly before he stopped completely when he was turned around and pressed firmly against someone's chest.

Harry found himself nose to nose with BEN. The green clad teen had his arms wrapped securely around Harry, his heterochromic eyes looking down into Harry's own.

“Alright I know that Jonathan over there probably deserved it-” the blond teen said, his voice accented with a slight American drawl as he gestured flippantly to the man, who was apparently named Jonathan. 

Said man -Jonathan- made a gruff sound of protest.

“-and I know you want to tear him to shreds. Hell! I want to tear him to shreds sometimes but you've got to chill out before Slendy gets involved” BEN continued, blatantly ignoring any offended noises that the golden-eyed man made. He just continued looking at Harry as he turned to walk back towards the mansion.

Harry growled at Jonathan from over a thin green clad shoulder. The golden-eyed man mockingly growled right back at him. Harry blinked, his eyes going wide and curious. The man had growled at him but there didn't seem to be actual menace within the gesture, just some mild annoyance.

The man followed behind BEN as he slid the glass door open, stepped though, and deposited Harry onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs. Harry pouted at BEN before he perked up.

Before he had taken Toby’s goggles, he and Nom-Noms had been playing Hide-in-Seek together. Harry pushed himself off the chair and made a beeline for the cabinet that was farthest from the door, he opened it up, reaching behind some rusty unused pots and pans to snag one of Nom-Noms paws.

He pulled the stuffie out, brushing the thin layer of dust that had accumulated overnight off of the green and black fur. Hugging the stuffed animal to his chest, Harry made his way back towards his chair.

“Why don't you go see if Sally’s in her room?” BEN said, before Harry could clamber back onto the wooden chair “you could introduce you stuffed rabbit to her teddy-bear.”

Harry wasn't sure what he should do. He had been wanting to play with Sally ever since he had seen that she had her own stuffie. But in the two weeks he had been living in the manor he hadn't gotten a chance. He would see her at the kitchen table sometime during meals, but he hadn't had any actual conversations with her. She would smile and wave and Harry would give a little grin back, but he couldn't work up the courage to say anything.

But BEN had an encouraging look on his face, silently urging Harry to head upstairs. It was the golden-eyed man's face that actually made Harry want to go upstairs. He looked completely done, just so annoyed. Harry knew that attacking each other was something the other creepypasta’s engaged in all the time but this was the first time he had attacked anyone in the mansion.

He didn't know how exactly his punishment would be. Harry knew he technically hadn't done anything wrong, the rules said he couldn't kill them not that he couldn't attack them.

But Harry didn't know what would happen, so he swallowed the small lump that had formed in his mouth, nodded and padded up the creaky wooden stairs on light feet.

The mansion had too many levels to count and confusing hallways on top of that. But Harry knew that Sally’s room was somewhere in one of the middle floors because she had mentioned it offhand during one of the irregular meals they had had together. 

Harry stared mournfully at the hallway that led to the fifth floor, he didn't want to go back downstairs to the kitchen to ask where the girl’s room was.

He could feel frustration welling up within him, pooling like a weight in his stomach. He stomped a foot and hugged Nom-Noms closer to his chest.

There was a tug at the pit of his stomach before a single chain materialized itself from his wrist. It wavered in front of his face before it pointed itself towards the stairwell and upwards. 

Harry stared blankly at the glowing metal for a moment before a little grin worked its way onto his face.

In his haze of anger, Harry had forgotten what his chains had done earlier. They had pointed him in the direction of the golden-eyed man and led him down the stairs to the backyard. There had been more of them then and only one now, but they had led him true.

So, Harry went back to the stairs and kept going up. His chain led him up two more flights before it stopped pointing up and instead turned to point down the hall. 

Harry’s foot slipped against the edge of the top step, his stomach doing a funny swoop before he caught himself on the carpeted floor of the landing. He straightened up, tucking No-Noms back into his arms from where he fell out when Harry used his hands to stop himself falling, and headed down the dreary hall.

Once Harry saw it, there was no way he wouldn't have been able to recognize it. The door was painted a different color then all the rest, a slightly peeling baby blue that was covered in a multitude of stickers, from teddy bears to rocket-ships. Some of the stickers looked really old, they were peeling, and dust had stuck to any of the sticky parts that had been revealed, and some of them looked brand-new. Still glossy and glittery straight from the package.

Harry hesitated in front of the decorated door, debating on whether or not he should knock. 

He took a deep breath, causing his thin chest to puff up, ribs showing from under his shirt. He steeled himself before knocking on the door.

It was silent for a moment, before the door was pulled open and Harry was yanked inside the room. 

He was completely startled at the quick movements but before stopping to take in the new room. It was very clearly a kid's room. Toys strewn around and the covers on the bed patterned with little animals, but there were also things that would never be in an actual child’s room, a small knife sitting on a stained, white vanity, a doll that had been completely dismembered, its hair chopped off and sewing pins sticking out of the eyes.

Harry thought it was darling.

“Do you want to play with me?” a girl's voice asked. 

Harry startled out of his observations, turning to look at sally. She was wearing the same thing she had been wearing every time Harry had seen her. A light pink dress, and frilly white knee socks. The side of her forehead was still caved in, not a single change to the gaping head wound.

“Uhhm, BEN sent me up here, he said I could i-introduce Nom-Noms to your teddy bear” Harry said, shifting his hold on Nom-Noms to show him to Sally.

The girl's face lit up at the sight of Harry's stuffie. She grabbed Harry's hand and led him over to a low standing childrens table. It was painted a flakey white, marker scribbles littering the surface. There was a simple glass tea-set placed artfully around the table, one cup in front of each chair and five cups in total. 

Sally's teddy bear was sitting in the chair closest to where Sally had sat down after she had pushed Harry down into a chair.

“This is Mr. Death!” she said proudly, lifting the bear from its seat and showing it off to Harry proudly “he's my teddy and I love him! He does everything with me, he even helps me scare people!”.

The bear was ragged and had a few very clearly restitched seams, the button eyes different colors, one green, one blue. It was clearly well looked after, clean even when it looked so torn.

“This is Nom-Noms” Harry introduced, emboldened by Sally’s reaction to introducing their toys “I j-just got him, but I love him a lot!” 

“He's very cute!” Sally replied enthusiastically, “Is he nice to hug?”

“Yeah, he's super soft, and his hugs d-don't hurt me like u-uncle V-Vernon’s” Harry's voice went soft at his uncle’s name. It scared him to even think about him. He hated the mere thought of the man.

“I hated my uncle too, so I killed him!” Sally replied heatedly before her expression took a downward turn. “I heard what you said about your uncle when you first got here… my uncle did the same thing to me, so I killed him like he killed me!”

As she told Harry the last part, her entire body seemed to glitch, smudges of dark dirt appearing on her previously clear skin, and her eyes taking on a dim glow. It happened in an instance and was gone just as fast, leaving behind the appearance of a normal girl, sans the bloody crater in her forehead.

Harry was glad to know that someone else knew how bad it was. How much it hurt when Uncle Vernon had touched him.

So, he grinned at Sally with all his teeth.

“I killed my uncle too, Killed him dead!”

Chapter Text

There was a pile of books waiting for Harry in his room, sitting innocently in the center of his bed. A bed that had sat completely untouched in the month he'd been there, so it was odd to see anything on it at all.

Harry peeked at the stack; green eyes alight with curiosity as he climbed onto the bed to get a better look. They were thick, hardcover books that Harry didn't even try to convince himself that he could actually read. His reading skills were okay, the few children's books he could get his hands on could attest to that. 

He could read a few of the words from the book on top of the pile. Sounding out the letters that were displayed proudly on the cover.

“Book of sp-ls” He tried to sound out, picking up the heavy book in both hands, the syllables rolling clumsily of his tongue “spe-ls’, Spells! Book of spells!” He dropped the book as if it burned him the moment the title registered with him. He tumbled off the edge of the bed in his haste to get away. Spells were magic, and magic wasn't allowed.

The stack was suddenly flung off the bed, books smacking against the far wall with loud cracks. Harry shrieked high in his throat at the sight, scurrying back to his wardrobe. He climbed inside, slamming the doors behind him as he did. Pressing himself back against the farthest corner of his den, Harry covered his mouth with his hands, trying to stifle his panicky breaths.

He wasn't a freak, he could do strange things, but it wasn't magic! 

Harry calmed himself down after a while, having burrowed himself into his blankets, ignoring the various knick-knacks that dug into his skin. When he had sunken back into a calmer mind, Harry hesitantly moved to exit his wardrobe. 

He made his way slowly towards the scattered books, picking up the closest one with shaking hands. Coincidentally the closest one happened to be the one that had been on top of the stack.

He wasn't magic and he didn't want anyone to think he was, but he couldn't cull the curiosity that was swelling within him. It wouldn't hurt to just look, would it? No one was in the room with him, and the door was locked. He stood quickly, double checking the lock, and then scurrying right back to his wardrobe, heavy book in tow.

A ball of light began to bob above his head as he shut the doors behind himself settling into his nest. He flicked open the cover, pausing to listen for anyone coming for him. He sat stock still for almost five minutes before he thought it was safe to continue.

Flipping through the first pages, Harry could barely read any of the big words, but there were pictures!

"The Levitation Charm is one of the first spells learnt by any young witch or wizard. With the charm a witch or wizard can make things fly with the flick of a wand. The charm is an excellent test of your magical skills, wand control and above all, patience."

Harry’s eyes flew greedily over the page, taking in whatever words he could actually read with a fervor. His mind rapidly connected the picture of the floating feather with the word “fly”, determining that the page had some sort of floating magic on it. And wasn't that cool! 

What if he could float things too? They had always said that magic wasn’t real, going berserk with every little mention of something supernatural. So, it was possible for him to have…magic, wasn't it?

Harry shifted uneasily in his nest; his eyes wide as he peered down at the thick pages. But even with the unease that Harry was feeling, he still wanted to try and make something float. 

So, he tried the spell.

“L-Levy-oso” Harry said, trying to sound out the word on the page as he pointed a thin finger at Nom-Noms, his rabbit toy sitting cutely against the farther wall of his wardrobe, right next to his dinosaur bottle. The eyes in the bottle had shriveled up but Harry still liked them but harry wasn't focusing on that now. Nom-Noms was his friend, so Harry knew that the toy wouldn't mind him trying the spell on him “Levi-uso”

He was sure that he was saying the spell wrong, but he kept trying. If magic was real, then saying a silly sounding word probably wouldn't actually do anything.

His eyes darted from the book to his rabbit as he kept repeating the funny word. He was so focused on moving his mouth, saying the spell, that he didn't register that Nom-Noms begin to bob softly a few inches over the nest.

He did a double take, his neck cracking with the force that his head swiveled to take in something that would have got beaten if he was still with the Dursleys.

His rabbit was floating! Harry couldn't contain the happy squeal that left his mouth at the sight. He could do magic! If he could do this magic, then that meant he could do others too!

All his apprehension regarding magic disappeared for the moment, and the book said number one on it so that meant there had to be more, and even the floaty spell that he was using could be used to hurt someone. Lift them high enough than drop them and you have a human pancake!

That thought had Harry giggling manically. He wanted to turn someone into a pancake, wanted to see them all squished up, and see organs splattered everywhere.

Nom-Noms dropped from where he was floating, and Harry pouted. He wanted pancakes now.

Harry brightened again; he could go make pancakes because he was allowed to eat what he wanted. He could go cook right now and nobody would care. His eyes lit up, he could use his magic to help cook, he could get things down from the high cabinets without a stool!

He grabbed his helper, Nom-Noms, and made his way down four flights of stairs and into the kitchen. He set his rabbit on one of the many chairs, before getting a nice big frying pan out of one of the cupboards. It was a nice solid one, kinda like the one auntie would use to hit him. He set it on the stove, before he gathered the bag of pancake mix from a different cupboard. It was the cheap type, nothing like the ones he used to have to make at the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia said that the ones made from scratch were healthier but with the amount of them Vernon and Dudley ate, Harry wasn't so sure.

This one was simple to make, you just had to add water and the batter was ready.

Harry mixed the batter in a smudged glass bowl, turning the knob for the stove with both hands. The fire flared really high around the pan before Harry turned the gas down. While he waited for the pan to heat up, he filled a little cup up with the smooth batter.

Setting the full cup on the counter, Harry pointed a thin finger at it and concentrated like he had done to make Nom-Noms float. It took a moment, slightly less than it had taken the first time, before the heavy cup lifted shakily into the air. 

He hovered it above the pan for a moment, before clumsily tilting the batter into the sizzling pan. It hissed as it made contact, the smell of cooking pancakes beginning to waft through the air. He set the cup down with a thump, before moving to drag one of the wooden chairs in front of the stove, climbing on top to peer into the skillet.

The smell was amazing, and Harry’s stomach rumbled. He licked his lips, poking the pancake with a finger. Some batter stuck to his finger as he did, licking it clean when he pulled his hand back. It was warm and delicious, and Harry loved it.

He loved hot food so much. When he was allowed to eat at the Dursleys it had never ever been hot, cold food was the only food he had been allowed to eat and even then, overdue lunch meat, and random squishy vegetables didn't really count as food. So, the fact that he was now regularly getting hot food was one of the best things that had ever happened to Harry.

As Harry peered down at the pan, he heard the click of nails in the wooden floor approaching. He turned from the stove to look at Smile Dog. The dog had entered the kitchen and came to stand by harry. The dog was at eye level with him, even when Harry stood on the chair. When Harry wasn't standing on something, the dog towered over him with a good foot and a half. The first time the dog had stood over him, Harry was terrified. It was different to pet a dog when it was lying docile on the floor, then when the same dog was standing over you with its bloody maw hovering above your head.

But the dog hadn’t done anything to him, even when Smile Dog growled and snapped at others, even tearing a chunk out of the black and white clown's leg when E.J stepped on his tail.

The clown swore up and down that it was an accident, but the sniggers he let out and the wry turn of his sharp eyes said differently.

Smile Dog had let Harry pet him though, even if it was only for a few minutes at a time. One of the most notable occurrences was when the dog had let Harry fall asleep against him. Harry had climbed onto the same couch as Smile Dog and inevitably fallen asleep. He had slumped against the soft fur, not minding the flecks of blood that littered it. He had murmured something intelligible, his fingers absently twisting in the fur. He had fallen asleep, and Smile Dog hadn't even snapped at him. Maybe it was that Smile Dog liked kids, he never really snapped at Sally, but he did not seem to care for the girl, but he just let harry sleep.

It was some of the best sleep Harry had had in a while.

Now Smile Dog was sniffing at Harry's quickly cooking pancake, before he turned away in disinterest. The dog did not eat anything that wasn't meat, his diet consisted of human flesh, and various types of animals, but mostly human flesh. 

The dog snuffled at Harry's hair, before turning in disinterest. He padded over to his normal spot underneath the table, laying down and resting his head on his crossed paws. He gazed at Harry with his abnormally blue eyes, watching closely as the child tried to make his own food.

The child was odd, Smile Dog thought. Well, everyone in the manor was odd, and the child wasn't even the oddest of the lot.

No, that honor was left to the fucking clown. Smile Dog hated that bastard (No matter how many times the clown had given him free access to the fridge) (Damn his lack of opposable thumbs)

But this boy was definitely odd, he reeked of death and agony, the scents mingling together to make something altogether delectable. Smile Dog absolutely basked in the smell, he had spent his life causing chaos and raising havoc. He spent his days basking in smells like that, manipulating gullible people on the internet, then tearing them apart when they inevitably stopped spreading his image.

He relished in the scent of death, so he was content to stay near the boy, even if children were annoying. This one was slightly less so…. for a murderous brat.

Harry used his new floaty spell to gently flip the now halfway cooked batter, displaying the slightly burnt pancake. It smelled super good, and Harry's mouth watered. He watched it for another long moment before he scooped the burning hot pancake into his tiny hands.

It heated his small hands really fast, causing him to hot potato it from side to side. He hopped off his makeshift stool, shoving a piece of the steaming hot food into his mouth. The heat from it still managed to surprise him, even when he had felt the heat in his hands. He opened his mouth as he jostled the piece of pancake around in his mouth, making a heshasheshshs sound as he did.

Smile Dog snorted from his spot under the table as he watched the boy hop from foot to foot. You would think that basic human evolution would stop things like this from happening, but the intricacies of the human species never ceased to amuse him.

Harry swallowed the rest of his meager pancake as soon as it had cooled enough. The food settled his stomach and caused Harry to hum contentedly. Licking the last crumbs off his fingers he padded over to the table, snagging Nom-Noms from where he sat, before scooching under it to join Smile Dog.

He lay against the dog's blood-soaked fur, hugging Nom-Noms to his chest as he nuzzled into the great dog's side, pressing his face into the deep fur. He didn't mind how the fur had a stench of rotten blood, or how the wooden floor panels leeched coldness into his spine. 

He only cared about the fact that he had just been able to make and eat his own food with no one hitting him as a result. He could curl up to sleep right there on the floor and nobody would punish him for it. Maybe he would be woken up by an accidental kick, or someone yelling, but the yelling wouldn't be directed at him. It would just be background noise in the bigger picture. 

At this point Harry was cautiously convinced that he would be staying in the mansion permanently. He wouldn't be kicked out, wouldn't be made to leave his self-made nest. He could keep his room, and nobody would take it.

He sighed happily into blood flecked fur and let his eyes flutter closed.

He really fucking liked it here.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up with a mouthful of fur.

He spluttered, spitting out the mouthful of dog hair as he sat up. He was still laying on the kitchen floor where he had gone to sleep, his hands clenched in Smile Dogs fur. 

He had shifted even further underneath the table in his sleep, but now the previously empty chairs were filled. Multiple pairs of legs were taking up space, and voices were chattering away above him. Harry moved onto his knees, giving Smile Dog one last pat, before snagging his stuffie by a stubby arm, and crawling towards an empty chair.

The floor was cold under his hands and knees, Harry could feel a chill even through the fabric of his pants now that he wasn't pressed against the dog's warm body. He ignored the cold as he scooched across the floor, the voices above him not even faltering as he hauled himself onto the chair. He turned himself around in the chair, so he was facing the table. He set Nom-Noms on his lap, freeing his hand so he could grab one of the free plates on the table.

Everyone was sitting at the table, participating in the only event in the manor that was kinda mandatory. Not that everyone went every single day, most days it was just the creeps filtering into the kitchen randomly and snagging whatever food that had been cooked for dinner before bolting back to whatever it was that they were doing. 

Harry must have slept for hours if it was already this late in the day. He was already hungry again, even when he had eaten right before he took his nap. Harry grabbed for a biscuit as he looked around the-

There were people he didn't know sitting at the table.

Harry ducked down, sliding off of his chair, knocking Nom-Noms off of his lap in the process. He paid no mind to his fallen stuffie as he skittered to hide behind the chair of the person closest to him, a person he actually knew.

Clearly at least some of the people at the table had noticed his sudden appearance from under the table, and his even more sudden disappearance from his chair if the change in volume level from the conversation meant anything.

Harry gripped onto the backrest of the chair he was shielding himself behind. A quick glance up showed Harry whose chair he was behind -it was E. J’s- before he peered around the back of it to put his eyes on the new people. All three of the unknowns seemed to be quite a bit older than the teens like Jeff, Toby, and BEN. with the exception of one of them, but even then, he still looked older. 

They were all tall, even when sitting down they seemed gigantic to Harry. Well, everyone seemed huge to Harry.

The only one of them who wasn't wearing a mask was the younger of the three. His face was set in a bored expression, one hand holding his chin, and the other one idly tapping on the tabletop. He had blue eyes, eyes that seemed to glow lightly in the dim kitchen lighting. The feature that snagged Harry's attention was the man's hair, it looked almost like Harry's own!

Well, if Harry's mess of curls didn't look like it could house rats in its free time…

It was more feathery than curly, and it stuck up a lot less than Harry's own, but it was black, and relatively the same shape as Harry's, so he liked it.

And even though the man -who Harry had silently dubbed The Bored Man- wasn't wearing a mask, there was one that was clearly his if its position by his elbow meant anything.

(Should Harry get himself a mask? Almost everybody else in the house had one, and even if they didn't, they already had a creepy face)

Blue eyes briefly flitted towards Harry, a small bit of curiosity within them, not enough for the bored man to actually look interested though.

Harry ducked even further behind the chair, leaving just his hair and the top of his eyes within view as he moved on from the bored man to look at the other two unknown people that sat at the table. 

These two were very clearly adults, you could tell even with the masks on their faces. Something about them just screamed ‘Im to fucking old for this’. 

One of them was wearing a white mask that made him look eerily doll-like. Big painted eyes with thin eyebrows and black pursed lips made up the mask's features. The other man's entire body was covered, not a single sliver of skin visible. His mask was made out of fabric, a black baklava stretched tight over his head. There was a blood red frowny face painted sloppily on the front, a macabre smile making up the only emotions he could glean out of the man's body language.

Harry continued to peer at the new people until E.J had apparently had enough with Harry hiding behind his chair. The man turned around in his chair and plucked Harry up from his scruff, leaving him to dangle for a brief moment like a chastised kitten. 

Harry was deposited unceremoniously into the blue masked man's lap and a plate of meat was set in front of him with a clack of porcelain on wood. 

Harry stared up, his head tilted back enough to rest on the man's chest, shell shocked, up at E.J. The man didn’t acknowledge Harry’s stunned look, proceeding to use a gloved hand to tilt Harry’s head forward again, and nudge the plate forward.

“Enough with the staring, eat your food then you can be as annoyingly curious as you want” E.J said, dropping a fork onto the plate with a clatter.

Harry shook himself out of his stupor, his face morphing into a scowl. He was not annoying! He was just looking a little bit! 

He grabbed at the plate, snatching up the entire piece of meat from it with his bare hands, not using the fork out of spite.

He grumbled darkly under his breath as he gnawed on the large piece of meat. It was about the size of an adult man’s fist and had a grainy texture. It tasted kind of plain, but it also had a good meaty undertone.

Harry’s grumbles petered out as he focused on the meat. He settled completely onto the lap under him and let the voices around the table flow over him like water. 

The way he was eating was reminiscent of a dog gnawing on something hard. Braced between his hands and using his sharpened molars to tear little bits off.

E.J huffed at the purposeful lack of manners, but he had better thing to do than chastise a feral child.

“He eats the same as you?” Helen asked, the black-haired painter looking at the new boy with some interest. E.J could tell that Hoodie, and Masky had acknowledged the boy's presence, even if they didn't show it. 

Those two had been there for the arrival of almost every other creep. They had seen so much shit in their very long lives that seeing a child eat a human liver wasn’t even at the top of the list.

“He eats whatever we put in front of him” E.J replied, motioning to the child who was only going through the motions of eating. Harry had zoned out where he sat, chewing automatically. E.J supposed that the boy feeling comfortable enough to eat slowly and not be hyper vigilant as he did so was a good thing.

It was good to see the kid more comfortable around the manor then when he had first gotten there. His skittishness had lessened the longer he was able to act like an actual child, and not be punished for it. 

“He actually has a couple of human eyes in his room” E.J continued, looking back at Helen “He brought them with him when Jeff brought him here” -a two fingered wave from the teen in question- “apparently he ate a couple others, so I very much doubt he cares about what type of meat it is” He finished with a shrug looping an arm around the boy. 

Helen nodded, satisfied and leaned back in his seat. Harry had finished his chunk of meat and was now peering up at E.J from the corner of his eye as one hand tried to sneakily grab another piece from the blue masked man’s plate.

E.J rolled his eyes beneath his mask, grabbing the kidney from his plate, not minding the watery blood that dripped onto his hand (He liked his meals rare after all) and handed it to the boy. Harry grabbed it without hesitation and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed happily as he looked up at the man.

“Iss really guh’” Harry said through his full mouth, swallowing before he said anything else “it tastes like blood, I r-really like it!”

“It tastes like blood, because there is blood in it, human blood” E.J replied.

“Human blood? Like from aunty and uncle?” Harry asked, his head tilted back in a way that made his hair tumble adorably over his forehead. E.J couldn't resist tucking a tuft of the fluffy hair behind the boy's ear. Harry leaned into the gentle touch, subconsciously preening at the sensation.

“I don't know if you could actually classify those things as people, especially with how malformed they looked, but yeah, E.J means that type of blood” Jeff laughed, cutting into the oddly private moment between one of his oldest friends, his family member and the newest rug-rat. E.J was clearly developing a special bond with the kid and the kid was clearly all for it. Even if Jeff was the one who had found the kid and brought him to the Ark, there was no way he would be able to ever have some sort of parental relationship with him.

 Maybe they would be family someday, but never father and son. Just thinking about raising a kid gave Jeff hives. No thank you, he would stick to knives and murder, thank you very much.

He’d leave the parenting to someone else. He could be the cool uncle or something.

Harry wasn't fazed at all with the fact that he was eating human flesh. Why would he be? He wasn't human, so why did it matter if he ate them? It was like a human eating a chicken. It was just food.

“Tha’s good, its yummy” Harry said, digging back into the liver. 

E.J huffed a breathy laugh at the child's enthusiasm. It was nice to see someone else embracing cannibalism the same ways he did.

“Come now, finish up your liver, so you, and me can acquire the ingredients for tomorrow's meal” E.J offered, feeling disgustingly soft as he watched Harry's hair bob up and down as the boy nodded, and started eating faster.

Harry finished quickly, licking up all the blood that had dripped down his wrists.

He knew he shouldn't waste anything.

E.J stood up with Harry in his arms and bid the rest of the table goodbye with a wave of his hand. He stooped lowly to grab Harry's abandoned plush and handed it to the boy as he walked out of the dining room.

The occupants of the room were quiet as they listened to the man and child walk away. When the footsteps faded it was Helen who broke the silence.

“...so, when did E.J become a father?”

Jeff just laughed.

-

Harry stood on a stool as E.J stood behind him. The man had a grip on his hand as he helped to guide the scalpel that Harry held in one of his small hands. The body beneath Harry's hands was split open in every way imaginable, E.J having decided to take this opportunity to teach Harry about the human body. It was a shame this one had been dead already though.

“-and that is how you sever the connection between the windpipe and lungs, do you understand?” E.J asked. Harry nodded seriously at the question; his face screwed up in concentration.

“Yep” he said seriously, looking up at the masked man “you have ta’ cut the Tra-chea-” Harry stumbled over the new word “-away from the Car-ina, and pull it away. Did I get it right?”

“Yes, you did very well” E.J responded, praising the boy. He ignored how the boy had somehow managed to become soaked in blood. Getting bloody was a completely natural part of learning anatomy if E.J had anything to say. Harry definitely didn't not seem to mind the blood, if anything he looked more comfortable with his hands inside a corpse, and blood on his face. 

And the man definitely noticed how the boy would lick the red blood off his fingers with relish.

Ah, the boy was so adorable covered in blood, a tiny psychopath.

E.J was definitely not blind to his growing fondness of the boy, and he wasn't going to ignore it either. He had always wanted to have a child, even if he wasn't in the market for a partner and the way he lived was a less than ideal situation for a child to grow up in, but Harry was perfect. He was already one of them, already just as fucked up. He would be bothered by things that would traumatize a normal human. 

And he was a cannibal! He was perfect, a perfect child for E.J to raise. He knew he sounded possessive, but he didn't care. He had a child now, and that was what mattered.

“What do I do next?” Harry asked.

“Well, how about we start extracting the pancreas?”

Harry nodded and allowed the man to guide his hands.

Chapter Text

The sad part about dissecting a corpse, is the fact that you have to get clean afterwards. Normally that wouldn't be a concern in a house full of murdering psychopaths, but Harry was already tiny and malnourished, and getting sick wouldn't do him any good.

Harry hated baths. Bathes usually entailed cold water, and a harsh scrubbing from aunt petunia, and when she was feeling lazy, a harsh spraying down with the hose was the closest he got to a shower, no matter what the weather was like. Once she had hosed him off in the snow, citing ridiculous reasons about it, claiming Harry was filthy, and keeping the hose on him no matter how much he whimpered, and cried about the cold burning his skin.

Cleaning himself was easier at the manor, when Harry noticed his skin turning gritty, he would just slip away and wash himself in a sink, or on one occasion when his hair was so filthy that others were getting concerned, he braved a shower. He had panicked initially, but he had been able to get soap in his hair and cleanse it enough that it was no longer a pressing problem.

E.J led Harry to the bathroom that was next to his room. The bathtub was dusty from disuse, the water running gray when the man turned it on. Harry stood by awkwardly as the masked man dug through the cabinet under the sink. 

E.J stood up with a gallon bottle of soap with little blue characters on the front and labeled ‘Big Bubble Bath’ and a drain stopper in his hands. He moved to sit at the edge of the bathtub, taking off one bloody glove and setting it on the porcelain corner of the tub. He used his ungloved hand to splash the lukewarm water against the inside of the tub to wash away the rest of the dust.

When the dust was gone, E.J bent to plug the tub, turning the water's temperature up as well. Harry scooted closer to peer closer at the filling tub. He was apprehensive about the bathtub, but he was willing to take the risk. No one had hurt him yet. And deep down he knew that E.J wouldn't hurt him.

“This is bubble bath” E.J said, brandishing the bottle towards Harry, breaking him out of his reverie. “You put it in the water, and it makes bubbles. This one is blue, because BEN thought it was funny” case in point when E.J poured the soap into the bath, the bubbles that appeared were bright blue.

Harry marveled at the colorful bubbles, tentatively running a hand through the growing bubbles. He giggled at the feeling of the bubbles popping against his hand. He looked up at E.J, smiling silently up at the man.

E.J ran a hand through the water coming from the faucet, humming when the temperature was right. 

“Alright, the water is warm, and the bubbles are there for you to play with. Get all the blood out of your hair, and I will be back with clothing for you” he said as he stood up and made his way out the bathroom door. 

Harry watched the man's back as he left, listening to the muted clack of the door closing before he turned back to the tub. Harry had to admit that the colorful bubbles were distracting in the most alluring way. He could hear the bubbles crackling from where he stood, and the smell-

-Oh, the smell, the soap smelled like candy. It smelled like every Halloween Harry hadn't been allowed to participate in. 

Quickly Harry slipped out of his clothes, dropping them to the floor in a pile, something that he never would have done a month ago, and stepped into the tub.

The water felt amazing against his skin. Harry sighed happily as he sank up to his chest in the soapy water.

There were so many things that were good, things that would be so boring to other people, things that they did daily, and that felt like a chore to some people, that brought Harry so much joy.

Cleaning oneself should be a human right, but Harry’s not sure if he was even human before. Maybe that’s why auntie and uncle had hated him. They could probably just tell that there was something off about him.

But thoughts like that weren’t going to do Harry any good. So, he shook his head and went about cleaning himself.

When suds were washed away, Harry couldn't help but marvel at the state of his skin. The bruises that Harry had come to the manor with had long since faded, but evidence of his time at Dursleys still stayed. 

He rubbed one hand down the skin of his arm, tracing the splotch of risen skin that had come from an accident with his uncle's Weed Wacker.

Someone so small should never have been left alone with something like that.

It was one of the only times that he had been taken to the hospital. Uncle Vernon couldn’t have shoved Harry into the cupboard, no matter how much he wanted to at the time. The neighbors had heard his scream of pain when the Weed Wacker had slipped from his grip and tore into his arm.

The other inhabitants of private drive had never really had much of an opinion of the Dursley’s ward. They never paid any mind to the dreadful rumors that the family at Number 4 tried to spread. It was clear from day one that Petunia Dursley was a spiteful bitch, and her whale of a husband was worse.

The women had always spat venom about her late sister, going on and on about her. It was tiring to listen to and even more so to listen to her waste on a small child.

They were suspicious of the way the child always seemed to be injured in some way, big or small. From bruises to actual open wounds, the kid always seemed to be hurt.

So, when the screams of the boy were heard throughout the cul-de-sac, an ambulance was dialed before that horrid family was able to excuse away the boy's injuries

But Harry didn’t know about that. He justified the out of character moment with the fact that he had been out in front yard in the middle of the day with no way for his aunt and uncle to hide away his injury.

The scar from that particular event was an ugly, bumpy thing. Harry kind of liked the way it stood out against his skin though. The stretch of shiny red skin standing out from his normal complexion.

Dropping his arm back into the water with a splash, Harry continued scrubbing himself clean.

When all the tacky blood had been cleaned from his hands, face, and body, and grime washed from his hair, Harry stood from the tub, and stepped out onto the tiled floor. He reached for one of the towels hanging from the rack, pulling it off, and wrapping it around himself.

Reaching down, Harry pulled the plug from the drain, and stood watching the now purple-ish water pour down the drain.

Harry wrapped the towel tighter when a brisk knock signified E.J’s return. He padded to the door, opening it enough to peek through at the man. 

“Here is your change of clothes” he said, passing the clothes through the gap “get dressed.”

Harry nodded, murmuring a thank you as he took the clothes and closed the door. He dropped the towel to the floor where it landed against the tile with a small thud. He examined the clothes he had brought, a simple shirt and a pair of pants. The shirt had a plain yellow smiley face printed in the middle that made Harry smile to himself. It was cute. He had never been allowed to have cute things, no matter how much he had wanted them, had wanted to run his hands over them and tuck them away into dark corners.

He pulled the shirt over his head, the pants following right after, before he pulled the door open, leaving the small room with his hair still dripping wet.

E.J was standing out in the hall, leaning against the opposite wall Will his arms crossed. He straightened up when Harry opened the door and held out one of his hands for Harry to take.

Harry put his hand in E.J’s without hesitation and followed along happily when the man started walking them down the hall. 

Harry followed E.J as he was led up the stairs to one of the floors he had yet to explore. He looked around curiously but was disappointed when there didn’t seem to be any differences to this floor from the others. E.J stopped in front of a normal looking door, grabbing the handle and pushing it open.

The room somehow had an ethereal feel to it. There was gray light streaming through the giant bay windows that framed the room. Small particles of dust drifted like fairy dust through the beams of light that lit the space. There was a large queen bed set against the middle of the far wall. The bed was in an elaborate carved wooden bed frame, the dark, carved wood gleaned in the dreary light.

 A paper covered desk sat in one corner, a comfortable looking swivel chair sitting in front of it. There was a shelf littered with various knick-knacks next to it. Animal skulls and so many beautiful crystals sat delicately on the dark wood. 

Harry's feet drifted him towards the shelf of their own accord, padding soundlessly across the lusciously carpeted floor. Harry craned his head up, water dripping onto the back of his neck as he looked up at the shelf. 

“These are some of the collectables that I have gotten over the years,” E.J said, leaning over Harry to caress one of the beautiful skulls. “Whenever I travel, I try to obtain something that catches my interest, be it a skull from a roadkill fox, or a random trinket I find in a random store.”

And it seemed to be true, there was an assortment of random items littered amongst the bones and crystals. Gold embellished buttons, a random assortment of unmatching chess pieces, and so much more.

“I like taking things too” Harry said, tilting his head up backwards to peer at E.J through his lashes “yours are so pretty though, mine aren't tha’ pretty'’ Harry continued, whining slightly. He loved his things, but the only one that even came close to being as pretty as E.J’s was the tie that Slenderman had given him.

“Don't be sad, Little Crow” E.J cooed at the small boy, kneeling down to sit of the floor, and drawing Harry into his arms. Harry instantly melted into the embrace

“You are still young, you have so much time to grow and expand your collection” As he talked, E.J did something that Harry had never seen him do, he reached up and pulled off his mask.

Harry was stunned at the act, and slightly less surprised at the relatively normal face behind the mask. E.J was extremely pale, so pale that his skin seemed translucent. And aside from the completely black eyes, sclera and all, the only unnatural thing about his features was the black sludge that dripped from his eyes and down his cheeks.

“You will be such a good little killer, Little Crow” E.J said, ignoring how Harry marveled at his bare face, the man took Harry's face into his hands.

Harry almost cried at the caring tone that E.J used, and how he cradled his face like he was something precious to him.

“The next time I leave, the very next time, I will bring you with me and we shall find something beautiful for you, but for now you can have something of mine”.

E.J removed his hands from Harry's cheeks and Harry whined at the loss. E.J sent a fond look at the boy, but he didn't move to cradle the boy's face again, instead he reached towards one of the lower shelves. He deliberated for a moment as he regarded the items that sat on the shelf. He wanted the first thing he gave to the Little Crow to be something special, something that would stand out. 

He knew what that item would be as soon as he set eyes on it. 

It was an intricate crow skull pendant. A real avian skull was framed with masterfully carved crystal wings. The crystal wings were carved from a stunning specimen of Ethiopian Opal. The soft reds, greens, and blues sparkling beautifully in the light. He had gotten this specific piece from a pawn shop in Virginia. It had been stunning to look at, but the reason he had gotten it was because it seemed so out of place in between the rack of old skis, and the shelf filled with random electronics.

It was something beautiful, and interesting, found somewhere completely mediocre.

Just like Harry.

E.J straightened up and turned back to the boy in his lap “I think this will fit in beautifully with your collection, a crow for a crow, if you will” he chuckled. 

Harry took the pendant with trembling hands, taking a shaky breath. E.J just kept looking at Harry like he was something important, like he was something special. The pendant was a warm weight in his hand and something in Harry broke.

E.J realized Harry was crying before Harry realized it himself. The man's hands found their way up to cup his cheeks again, and E.J let out a fond noise as he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that were spilling from Harry's eyes. 

“It is okay, Little Crow” E.J cooed “I will keep you protected and safe for as long as I live” Harry hiccupped in response, bringing his hands to wrap around the man's torso, and burying his head in his chest. “You will grow to be a wonderful little killer, and I will hold your hand until the day you no longer need my help to stand” the man wrapped himself around the child -his child- and stood, holding tightly onto harry.

E.J walked over to his bed, toeing off his shoes at the foot of the bed, and crawled up towards the pillows. He set Harry down against the pillows, pulling the cover over the boy. Harry swallowed his hiccups as he was tucked in, he used his unoccupied hand to tug E.J down into the spot next to him, tucking himself into the man's chest when E.J settled beside him. 

“Y-you’ll stay ‘ith me?” Harry stuttered out as he tried to calm his breathing “even if i’m a f-freak?”

“Everyone in this house is a Freak, Little Crow” E.J laughed “no one here would ever consider you to be any worse than themselves. You are just as you are.”

Harry sniffled.

“Now shush, and rest your eyes, its late” E.J crooned, as he stroked Harry's hair “I will watch over you as you sleep, so sleep Little Crow, sleep.”

Chapter Text

Harry hated a lot of things, including but not limited to, peas, itchiness, the complete unfairness of the world, and allergies. 

But math was quickly making itself a home at the top of the list.

Harry absolutely despised solving those stupid little number problems, no matter how many times Helen went on about how easy the first-grade problems were. If this was only first-grade, then Harry did not want to know what the higher grades were like.

But Harry's hatred of math did not mean he was bad at it by any means, no, it was quite the opposite. Solving the problems came easily to him, but the mere thought of doing it made Harry want to tear his hair out.

“I don't know why you’re complaining” Helen said, not looking up from whatever he was doing with the objects in his lap from his spot on the couch “you can read, and write, and neither of those is that different from this.”

Harry just grunted, bringing his pencil down hard on the paper, hoping that if he wrote hard enough, the paper would tear.

E.J’s familiar gloved hand reached into Harry's line of sight, gently taking the pencil from his hand. Harry let the pencil go without a fight, happy to see the lead filled monstrosity leave if it meant math time was over. 

Apparently, children were supposed to be in school at Harry's age, and since E.J had decided that Harry was not allowed to be illiterate, Harry now had to do at least an hour of schoolwork a day. Reading and writing was going great, even science managed to catch Harry's interest! But from the first moment Harry laid his eyes on that dreaded first math sheet, he hated it with a fiery passion.

“None of that now, what did the paper ever do to you?” E.J asked as he put the pencil down on the table at the end of the couch, and his hand moved to stroke over Harry's feathery hair. 

Harry leaned into the touch, sighing and going lax at the sensation, the frustration from his math homework streaming away. The man had kept up with the constant physical touch ever since that day a few weeks ago, and Harry couldn't get enough of it.

“The numbers are stupid” Harry whined, draping himself dramatically over E.J’s lap, tugging the hand that had been dislodged from his movement back to his head, where the man indulgently resumed petting Harry's hair “I don't like em’”

“For someone who doesn't like math, you are surprisingly good at it aren't you” E.J mused.

“Well duh’’ Harry huffed, crossing his arms across his chest, one of his sweater sleeves whacking him in the chin, he glared down at the offending fabric for a moment before looking back up at E.J. “Ima be better at it because it's stupid, and I'm not stupid.”

“That's true, Little Crow, you aren't stupid, I know that, but neither is math.”  E.J replied.

“Yes, it is, I agree with the kid” BEN piped in from his formerly quiet place in front of the T.V. 

Harry shot a triumphant “I told you so” look at E.J, positively preening at BEN’s solidarity. E.J sighed exasperatedly.

“He has to learn BEN, so stop encouraging him” the man admonished, turning towards the blond on the opposite couch “just because the only things you know how to do are all tech related doesn't mean other people can't be smarter than you?” 

BEN stuck his tongue out in response.

E.J just rolled his eyes. 

Harry giggled as he watched their interaction with fascination. It was still odd to see people fighting playfully, it was funny. 

“Oh, you think that's funny, do you?” E.J joked playfully. Harry nodded, trying in vain to stifle his giggles. The man smiled down at the giggly boy, happy to be able to see such a sight. “You have been doing this for a while now though, so how about we go see about that pizza place that Toby always raves about?” 

“Really?” Harry asked. He hadn't left the manor once ever since he went shopping with Jeff, and leaving again after so long might be weird.

“Yes, go and get Jeff, Hoodie, and Masky while I find your shoes, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Yay!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up from E.J’s lap. The sleeves of his sweater fell over his hands as he stood up, almost trailing along the floor as he scampered out of the living room and towards the stairs. He bound up them to the second floor, running down the hallway, coming to a stop in front of Jeff’s door.

He knocked on the closed door with a sleeve covered hand, and beamed up at Jeff when it swung open.

“Were gonna go ta’ get pizza, do you wanna come?” Harry asked, almost bouncing in excitement.

“Yeah, give me a minute and I'll be downstairs,” he said, patting Harry on the head before he closed his door. 

Harry smiled, running back to the stairs. He made his way to the floor Hoody and Masky stayed on, knocking on their doors and telling them the same thing he told Jeff. He didn't get any head pats from them, but they both nodded their agreement to going to get pizza. 

Harry made his way back downstairs, making a beeline to where E.J stood holding up Harry’s shoes. 

“Sit down and let me help you put them on” E.J said, gesturing to the now vacant couch. Harry did as he was told, bouncing towards the couch and sitting. Putting on a pair of shoes shouldn't have been that exciting to him, but Harry couldn't help bouncing his feet against the couch once both shoes were on his feet.

Hoodie, Masky, and Jeff had all made their way down, and into the room while E.J was doing the Velcro on Harry's shoes. As Harry stood up from the couch, a sudden thought hit him. He walked over to Jeff and tugged on his sleeve.

“How are we gonna go if all your faces are scary? How are you gonna hide your face?” Harry asked, his face drawn in confusion. 

“Why would I hide my face? Do you think I'm scary?” Jeff replied, sneering playfully down at the boy. His expression caused the skin on his face to stretch in grotesque ways. It startled Harry a bit, he didn't notice that Jeff was joking, and he backtracked quickly, not wanting to offend the teen. What if this was the final straw, and Jeff didn't want him to stay here anymore.

“No, no, y-your not s-scary, I promise!” Harry said, his stutter peeking through “I'm s’rry, I didn't mean it!”

Jeff’s face changed when he noticed Harry was actually scared. His sneer melted into a less intimidating expression. “I'm just playing brat, and we have these things called Glamours, that change our faces into something more human, more normal, I don't know how it works, but Slenderman taught all of us how to do it at some point after we each started living here” he explained.

Harry relaxed at the explanation. It made sense if he thought about it. The Proxies had to be able to go places normally somehow. He wondered why Slenderman hadn't taught him how to do it yet though. He had been living at the manor for a while now, but he had only seen the man on a few occasions. Slenderman had never really stopped to talk to Harry, but he had never fails to give a small greeting before he left.

There was something wrong with Slenderman, something that made his head buzz and ache when he talked. Harry hadn't noticed it the first time he had met the man, but Slenderman seemed ethereally macabre. The way he stood, the way he talked, even his mere presence, felt abhorrent. Harry couldn't bring himself to actually be afraid of him, no matter how much he wanted to run and hide every time he saw the man, or launch himself at his non-existent face, his teeth bared. 

Harry wondered what the weird octopus man tasted like.

Needless to say, Slenderman gave him a lot of conflicted emotions.

But why hadn't the man taught Harry how to do it? He could do other cool stuff, pretty murder chains, pretty lights, and he could make things float, so why not this too?

Harry watched in fascination as Jeff's face changed, the pale flesh on his face shifting into a more human skin tone. Eyelids appeared where there had been done before, and the burn marks around Jeff’s eyes and his slash of a mouth vanished, leaving behind a relatively plain, human looking face.  

Harry gaped at the changes. Jeff looked nothing like- Well nothing like himself. It was strange to look at an unknown face and know that it was actually someone he was close with.

It was a seamless transition. Jeff made no strange moments or noise as his face changed. It just happened, and now there was a stranger standing in front of Harry. 

Jeff shook his head with a shudder, before he grinned down at Harry with a normal mouth.

“It doesn't feel too pleasant, but it gets the job done,” he said.

“That's so cool! Can you show me how to do it?” Harry asked, looking up at the teen with excitement on his face, green eyes wide, and his sharp teeth bared in a grin. 

(E.J definitely didn't think the scene was endearing from his place across the room…. Definitely not.)

“No can do, you're gonna have to wait until Slender decides to teach you” Jeff replied.

Harry pouted, put off by the denial. But he shook off his disappointment like it had never been there when E.J gestured for Harry to join him as he made his way to the door. E.J’s face had changed as well, his mask was gone, and he now looked like any normal human you would see walking down the street. His eyes were green instead of their normal void of black.

(What Harry didn't notice was that E.J’s now green eyes almost exactly mirrored his own.)

His hair fell over his eyes, the black, and green looking striking together. 

“It's time to go, are you ready?” E.J asked as he watched Harry's keen eyes trace his artificial features. Harry nodded as he took E.J’s hand in his own, the leather gloves the man wore feeling smooth against his palm.

“Uh huh, I'm hungry!” Harry answered, swinging his and E.J.s as they walked out the door, Jeff, BEN, Hoodie, Masky, and Helen following 

-

Jesper knew there was something wrong with the kid, even before he had crossed the threshold, bell jingling merrily behind him.

It was nothing against the kid, really. It was just that anyone who came in with this particular group just had to be unstable in one way or another. Jesper knew that anyone who said they were from “That one group home” was going to be insane. 

They were kind of like local legends around there, but if you asked anyone from the surrounding buildings, they would claim that they had never seen any of them. It was odd, but while they did give Jesper a feeling of bone deep dread with their very presence, Jesper had been alive for twenty-nine long ass years, and some weirdos had nothing on his middle school experiences.

So, he slapped on his best customer service smile and took the group's order.

…Which turned out to be just as hard as it normally was because the green one, and the one with the really pale face wouldn't stop arguing about toppings, the two that never talked were… well not talking, but still trying to communicate their order to the one holding the kids' hand, regardless of the squabble going on behind them.

…and the kid would just not stop staring at him. It was creepy. The kid looked like he could be a horror movie prop. Pale skin, bruises a disturbing shade of purple under his eyes, and the eyes in question just staring up at where Jesper stood behind the register. Creepy vibe? check. Weird bandages on his forearms? check. Giant scary glowing eyes? Double check.

All in all, he fit right in with the group.

“W-what are the things on your arms?” A small voice asked, breaking Jesper from his awkward, half hidden staring. 

He jerked a bit at being addressed for something other than placing someone's pizza order. 

“Tattoos” He blurted out before he could even think about who had asked the question. It was the boy, his doll-like eyes staring upwards inquisitively. 

“Are they like stickers?” The boy asked, his curiosity written plainly across his face. 

Jesper shot a pleading look at the man that was holding the kids' hand, but he seemed preoccupied with the other metaphorical children that were still arguing away like toddlers. Jesper sighed, and then turned back to the kid.

“Kind of, I guess? But they're more like drawings on my skin, I can't take them off like stickers” Jesper answered uncomfortably. Why did kids have to be so weird?

The kid turned to the man holding his hand, tugging on it to gain his attention. The man turned away from his arguing friends, and it was only then that Jesper noticed that the two had almost the exact same eyes.

“Can I have some?” The kid asked, gazing pleadingly upwards at the adult. The man sighed.

“No, you may not have any tattoos, at least not until you’re older,” He replied, dismissing the idea of the kid getting jabbed over and over by a needle. Said kid pouted, scuffing his foot against the linoleum floor, but he didn't whine like another child might have.

Jesper thanks the nonexistent gods for small mercies, his ears would not have been able to stand any more noise.

Maybe he should have gone to college, if he had a degree at least he would have done something with his youth….

Nah, high school was terrible enough.

Jesper celebrated internally when the group finally decided on their order, he wrote it down with glee, before watching the group proceed to somehow take up four tables at once with only seven people.

…Each table sat four.

God, at least they were the waiter's problem now.

Chapter Text

Some days Harry just wanted to lay down on the floor and cry, wanted to wail, and scream about everything.

 And sometimes he did, he did cry, and wail, and scream. Ignoring everything else as he laid on the dusty floor of his room and cried.

Another type of day, where despite him doing everything, he could, it didn't seem like he was doing enough, a terrible feeling at the base of his skull that made it feel like the world was ending. He had to move, had to try to shake out the feeling through his fingertips. He had to do something, had to jump, and yell, and make the pit in his stomach go away somehow.

Harry didn't know which type of day was worse, the ones where he wanted to crawl out of his skin, or the ones where he wished he didn't exist to have skin in the first place.

Today was one of the “crawl out of his skin” days, and Harry hated it.

He was shaking, a fine tremble going through his arms. He shook his hands out, literally trying to shake the gross-yucky feelings from beneath his skin. He whined pitifully, pressing his face into his blanket. He needed to do something, anything at all, just to make the feeling go away. 

He traded out shaking his hands for whacking them against the wall of his wardrobe. He relished in the sharp throb that ran through them. So, he kept doing it.

Whack, whack, whack.

Nom-Noms shiny button eyes seemed to be staring at him with judgment from where the stuffie was propped against the wall. 

Harry turned away.

Whack, whack, whack.

Not even the call for dinner had been able to rouse Harry from his nest. The idea of sitting down at the table, surrounded by people, made Harry want to hurl. Everything was terrible, the walls of the wardrobe blurring out of focus as Harry stared at them. 

Whack, whack, whack.

Why couldn't everything just stop? Why did Harry's head have to make him feel like this? He wanted to crack his own skull and crawl out, anything to make his body stop buzzing, and his thoughts slow down. His canines ached with the need to sink into something, anything. He wanted to rip, and tear, and wail at the world. his lungs burned from his suppressed sobs, and Harry broke.

…or he would have if his wardrobe hadn’t been thrown open right at that moment.

“Alright” A gruff voice said as Harry was roughly hoisted out of his wardrobe “I can’t stand hearing you whine through these damned walls!” 

Harry let out a wet sob. Helen sneered.

It was just his luck that his room was on the same floor as the new proxies. And the kid had apparently picked the one moment where Helen wanted to sit in peace, and quiet to have his most recent mental breakdown. He could only take so much pathetic banging and sniveling before he had to do something about it.

Even if it meant he was going to sacrifice one of his newly acquired human pets that he was keeping tied up in the empty room next to his.

He had barged into the boy's room, and that had led him to where he was now, hauling the kid down the hall, holding the small body away from his own like he was something disgusting.

“Here you go” He said, dropping the kid to the floor outside the door of his human storage room. “Get in there, and kill one of the pests in there, but only one or there will be consequences” Helen warned, shoving the door open, and pushing Harry inside.

Harry blinked away the tears that had formed in his eyes and waited in confusion for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. When his vision finally cleared enough to see, Harry gaped in astonishment at what he saw. 

His heartbeat rocketed upwards in excitement as he gazed at the dirty and disheveled humans that were tied up against the wall. There were four of them, two women, a man, and a teenage boy. 

The teenager was blond, and so was one of the women, but the other two humans had darker hair colors. Harry didn’t really care about any of the soon to be corpses features at the moment, he was much more interested in what their blood would feel like crusted under his fingernails.

The scent of blood, sweat, and fear permeated the air. Harry’s pupils dilated as he took in the smell, his hands forming claws by his sides. The smell was intoxicating, and the sound of gagged whimpers coming from the other side of the room was music to his ears. 

The man was trying to yell through the dirty cloth shoved in his mouth. He looked angry and scared at the same time. It made him look like how Uncle Vernon had as he died, hateful and angry until the very end.

Harry zeroed in on the man, his pupils blown completely at that point, the black making his eyes look like empty pits. He was going to kill that one, he was going to bathe in his blood, and laugh as he did. He wanted to revel in the terror.

He stalked towards the bound man, ignoring the panicked flailing coming from all three of Helen’s hostages. The man stared defiantly at Harry, even while the trembling of his limbs was clearly visible. 

He was going to tear that composure to shreds. 

Harry shoved aside the teenage boy when he tried to lunge at him. Even in his bound state, the teen was still trying to escape. Harry would have thought that was cool if he wasn’t so focused on getting to see some blood. The teen fell back to the dusty floor with a dull thump, and Harry just walked past him. 

The man began to struggle backwards away from the small form as the kid approached him. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back home with his wife, not in some terrifying room with a little psycho.  

That thing that was stalking him was unnatural, something that disobeyed the very laws of the universe. It had stolen a child’s body, folded itself up, and shoved it into the corpse of a boy. That poor boy, what a terrible fate to befall someone so young.

But it wasn’t a kid anymore, it was a monster. A monster with sharpened teeth, and glowing eyes. Ethan’s Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed against his gag. It tasted like mold in his mouth. His back hit the wall, the impact made his shoulders throb, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t be anything compared to what the demon in front of him could do.

When Harry got close enough, he lunged.

The man fell backwards onto the floor as Harry bowled into him. Harry’s nails dig into soft flesh as his chains materialized from his neck, flaring out behind his back like a pair of gothic wings. Harry screeched like an angry cat as the man under him flailed about trying to throw him off. The man yelled deep in his throat when Harry dug his canines into the junction between shoulder and neck. Harry’s screech shifted into a deep growl as blood flooded his mouth, his eyes rolling slightly at the wonderful taste.

His growl vibrated throughout his meals body, causing the flesh that his teeth were embedded in to tear even more. The man couldn’t resist when Harry wrapped himself around him, his teeth tearing at his jugular. All he could was writhe against his bonds, and gurgle wetly as blood clogged his throat.

Harry let out an inhuman sound as he ripped his jaws away from the bloody neck under his teeth. He took a bloody chunk of flesh with him, and the man died with a strained gurgle, and blood bubbling out of the gaping hole in his windpipe.

Harry could feel it when the man beneath him stopped breathing, when life vanished from dull brown eyes. 

He loved it.

He chewed the chunk of flesh in his mouth, swallowing with relish, before he leaned down to lap at the blood still pouring from the man’s throat. His small tongue laved at the leaking wound, and he whimpered at the flavor. The jagged edges of the wound felt rough on his tongue. It was so delicious, and Harry hadn’t realized how hungry he had been up until then. 

He shifted off the body, his jeans soaking up the blood that had puddled on the floor. Bracing his hands on the still warm chest, he straightened out his arms to peer down at the body. The blood caked against his lower face was grounding in a way. The smell and texture kept him tethered to reality. 

Someone was sobbing somewhere behind him. It was a terrible choking sound that grated on his nerves.

“Be quiet!” Harry yelled, turning around to glare at the crying women “I’m tryna do something!”

The women shrieked when Harry whirled towards her. She was filthy, her dark hair a tangled mess. The blonde woman was huddled next to her, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. She was dirty too, but clearly only from the last day or two. Unlike the accumulated filth on the crying women. They both had scrapes and bruises, but no life-threatening wounds on either of their persons.

The dirty women wouldn’t stop crying. Why wouldn’t she stop? He had told her to, so she should shut up!

He licked some blood from his fingers as he stood up, turning towards the two women. It was only then that he noticed that his chains were fanned out behind his back. One of them came forward to caress his cheek, and Harry leaned into the chilled touch, hand still in his mouth,

“Ar’ ya gonna help me wit’ this?” He asked, voice muffled by his fingers, and the chain vibrated in response. Harry removed his hands from his mouth, grinned a creepy little grin, and padded towards the women. She whimpered even more as Harry advanced, struggling even harder against her bonds. Her chest was heaving erratically as she sobbed. Her tears left a dirty trail on each of her cheeks.

Harry stopped in front of her and stuck a hand out to caress her dirty cheek. She cringed away from the touch, clenching her eyes closed. 

“Why are ya’ crying?” Harry asked as he gently removed the gag from the women’s mouth, staining the already dirty cloth with blood. 

“Monster!” The woman shrieked as the gag was removed, her voice thick from her accent, and from fear. “Why are you doing this!”   

Her cheek stung, neck snapping back as Harry's palm made contact with her cheek. Her eyes were wide and her jaw slack as she gingerly reached up her bound hands to touch the claw marks that Harry had left with his sharp nails.

“I’m not a monster'' Harry growled, teeth bared, and eyes glowing ominously from their sockets. ”you! -you are the monster! I’m not a monster, people are tha’ monsters!”

He shoved the gag back into the lady’s mouth with more force than necessary, knocking the woman’s head against the wall. He huffed, shooting a glare at the other woman, silently daring her to do anything. She glared back but made no move to lunge at him.

The teen boy was still on the floor where Harry had shoved him, silently clutching the shoulder that he had hit on the floor. He was staring up at Harry with watery blue eyes, silently watching him like a cornered animal.

Harry snapped his teeth at the boy, and reveled in the flinch it got him.

He moved to kneel besides the cooling body of the man, putting his hands on the still chest, and just started digging.

His fingers tore into the flesh easily, his mouth watering at the feeling under his fingertips. He wanted to take out the man’s heart. It would probably taste good, meaty, chewy, and delicious. His fingers dug in between the rib bones; fingers so small that they slipped right through. Bones snapped under deft fingers as Harry pulled back on them, grunting a bit as he did.

Jagged ribs were pulled outwards, spread out like a crow's wings. Harry didn't stop digging, and pulling, and digging, and pulling until the once perfectly normal chest was a gaping, bloody hole. Gore squished under his fingers like mashed potatoes. Harry liked mashed potatoes.

With the ribs out of the way, Harry had a clear view of the lungs and heart. It looked exactly like the ones that E.J had showed him a month before. Why did organs have to look so pretty? Harry poked one of the lungs with a finger, giggling breathily as it jiggled. 

The chains that had been floating peacefully behind him moved to wrap around the valves of the heart, and lungs, tightening around them until they severed completely. Harry picked up the heavy heart with both of his little hands. The weight of the organ surprised him, but it didn't stop him from lifting it to his mouth and digging his sharp teeth into it.

Harry spat it out almost as soon as it hit his tongue. It was disgusting! Why would something that looked so good taste so bad? 

As Harry was trying to wipe the taste from his tongue, the door creaked open, and Harry could hear E.J chuckle.

“I see you’ve made the mistake of trying to eat an uncooked heart” He said, his hard shoes clacking against the dirty floor as he walked over to Harry “Helen told me you were having a bad day” A pause “well he told me you were being more obnoxious than usual, but I can read between the lines.”

“Why’s it so yucky?” Harry asked once he had cleaned his tongue enough. 

“Mostly because it’s just muscle, there is no flesh, and we both know the flesh is the best part” E.J replied, peeling off one of his gloves to run it through the blood that had collected on the dead man’s collarbone. 

E.J’s bloody finger called Harry’s attention back to the large amounts of blood that had collected everywhere. He wanted to try something else this time though, so he leaned forward, and stuck his head into the hole that used to be a rib cage.

His ears were pressed against the soft bloody sides of the wound, the blood soaking his ears, and hair. Vaguely he noted as he dug into the lungs, and the surrounding flesh, that he was eating like a wild animal. He had seen a stray dog digging in a trash bin once. The mangy animal snapping and growling when another dog had tried to get close.

He felt like an animal in that moment, his back arched, knobbly spine showing through his shirt. A gloved hand ran through his hair, and Harry let out a rumble response.

“You are a hungry one, aren’t you?” E.J mused. It was quite a sight to watch a child dig into a body like a hungry wild dog. E.J continued to pet his child’s hair as he looked around the room. Harry had kept his promise to Helen and hadn’t killed any of the other three humans in the room. The boy had picked one, and only killed that one. 

He had picked a good one as well. The specimen on the floor looked healthy. He had a full body, and when he was alive, he had probably had a healthy flush to his skin. 

Harry was such a good kid.

The two women and the teen had moved to huddle against the far corner. One of the women was clearly in shock, while the other two sat tensely, fear in their eyes. Helen had picked good ones this time, so maybe that asshole had some good qualities after all.

Chapter Text

~Time skip, A year and a half~

Shifting against the twig littered ground, Harry huffed when he couldn't find a comfortable position under the bush. Sticks and leaves dug into his chest, arms, and legs as Harry peered through the leaves, out into the deserted black yard of the house he was staking out.

He was eight now, almost nine, and that meant he was finally given more freedom about going to and from the manor, and he was now occasionally allowed to go on a hunt by himself (None of the adults in Harry's life cared about an eight-year-old roaming around by himself and killing people). He relished in the absolute freedom he got on these rare days. He could do whatever he wanted, and there would be no one there to tell him not to. One day, he literally just went and killed ducks in a public park. He was wearing a mask obviously, and it was dark, so he definitely didn't deserve the lecture E.J had given him when he had made his way into the manor, covered in bloody feathers, and a couple of duck beaks in his hands…  

Anyways! He liked playing in the woods around the manor, and in the manor itself, but he wasn't allowed in most of the rooms, and he got so bored playing in the same places after months, and months, and months, and months….

He didn't mean to sound so pessimistic (A very cool word E.J had taught him) but he lived his day-to-day life knowing that if Jeff hadn't been there the day, he had killed his relatives, there probably would have been more dire consequences to his crime. 

Another thing that E.J had been teaching him; Avunculicide, homicide, serial killings, murder, pedicide, all types of ‘cides’. And those were only the crimes Harry had committed when he killed the Dursleys! He wanted to add to the list. To everyone else at the Ark, it wasn't a normal day without at least one body showing up in a bathtub somewhere. 

Harry wanted to impress them, well mostly impress E.J, Toby, and Jeff. E.J because he was the closest thing Harry had ever had to a parent, and the other two because he wanted them to think he was cool. They kept treating him like a baby! Nobody took him seriously. He was eight whole years old, that was a lot of years old!

So here Harry was, lurking in a bush, branches poking against his masked face as he waited for the lights inside the house to turn off. 

Technically, there was no rule saying Harry wasn't supposed to be there, and nobody had explicitly told him not to, but there was kind of an unspoken rule about going after prey way above your pay grade. 

But if he wasn't supposed to, then why was it so easy to find this particular serial killer.

There were so many serial killers in the world, and it wasn't exactly the Proxies job to curb the naughtier habits of the human population. So serial killers just existed like any other people. They lived in their little houses, and worked their little jobs, completely unaware that they weren't the actual predators in the world. Harry kinda wanted to see what would happen if he shattered that mindset, wanted to let killers know how they were like mildly annoying ants in the grand scheme of things. 

And that was what he was going to do. 

He picked a good one too! He had borrowed one of BEN’S laptops and using his limited knowledge of the internet (and the fact that BEN had literally hacked everything that could ever be hacked) Harry searched cold cases, and unsolved missing persons until he found a pattern that caught his eyes. A retired cop, which only enforced Harry's dislike for that profession, who had been killing and raping his way across Orange County before he retired and moved to Sacramento with his wife and kids. He kept up his explicit habits though, but who would suspect that a monster was living his best life just down the block, lounging around a pool with his nice little nuclear family. 

Clearly not anyone smart, if it was so easy for an eight-year-old to find him. 

So, back to the yard Harry was squatting. The lights in the house went out one by one, the ones in the children's rooms having gone out hours ago. It was nearing 2am in the morning and while Harry was trying his best to be patient, it was hard. He wanted that old man dead already!

Harry waited silently in the bush for nearing half an hour before he made his move. 

He slithered out from under the bush, contorting his arms, and torso to move without rustling the branches. He stood up, brushing leaves, and twigs off of his front. He had chosen simple clothing for this operation (calling it an operation made him feel like a big boy). Pocketed cargo pants that he had tied tight at the calf, over the black and white knee-high black socks. A thin baggy sweatshirt covered his torso and arms, the hood thrown up to cover his hair and forehead, with a simple black half mask covering the rest of his face. 

And his shoes, in a stark contrast to his outfit, were bright fluorescent green, which in Harry’s opinion, the right opinion by the way, looked so fucking cool!

E.J said the type of shoe was called ‘combat boots' and Harry absolutely loved them! They had come into the manor on one of the corpses that had been dragged inside at who knows when in the night. Sure, it had been a hassle to get one of the boots off of the corpses swollen, and broken ankle, but Harry wanted them. Sure, there was little stain on the toe of one of them, and they never stopped smelling like dried blood, but that just added to their charm. 

Harry kept his steps light as he slunk across the perfectly cut lawn. The flat green made Harry cringe. He stepped up to the locked door, pressing a long-nailed finger against the keyhole and pushing a little bit of power into the metal. The sound of the lock clicking open made Harry smile sharply underneath his mask. 

His boots were silent as he entered and walked down the hallway, letting his nails drag in the wall as he moved, leaving a trail of demented looking claw marks in the plaster. It was kinda his calling card, leaving a line of claw marks leading to his victims' bodies. The sound it made and the news articles that preceded his killings made him giggle. There were already whispers in the deep dark corners of the internet on him. Claimed sightings, and near misses, (Harry hadn't missed yet) users talking about the small, masked boy that had appeared a year ago who shadowed some of the other Creepypastas.  

The few distorted images that made their way onto the web barely showed anything. A flash of green, a couple of faceless silhouettes walking single file down an abandoned road. Every single photo was glitched. Smatterings of static on the corners, green lines streaked across defining features. 

Most thought the boy, and the Creepypastas as a whole, as some sort of sick gimmick. A false legend that some punks on the internet thought was funny.  Harry thought it was hilarious.

There was no name for the boy yet. People knew too little about him, and the people who did believe in him numbered in the low hundreds. Harry was hoping that would change over the years, he wanted people to know about him, wanted the idea of him lurking around in the dark made them shake. So here he was, on his way to kill someone else.

He felt like an animal caged in flesh when he hunted like this. Bones and fur shifting underneath his skin. Nothing in the magic books Harry had could tell him about why he felt like this, why sometimes he could have sworn he could see claws stretching against his skin from the inside.

He prowled towards the stairway, sneering at the bland suburban decor on the walls. Beige paint and framed prints of landscapes. 

Houses like this made him think of things better left forgotten. 

Harry made his way up the stairs, being careful not to let any of the step's creak beneath his boot clad feet. He made it to the top floor, stepping into the hallway before he had to throw himself underneath the shelf sitting at the end of the hall. 

One of the bedroom doors had creaked open, a middle-aged man wearing a bathrobe stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him with a mumble. 

Harry held his breath, holding his chest completely still as the man walked past him. He didn't dare make a noise because if the man heard him, this whole trip would be ruined. The man kept walking, following in Harry's steps as he made his way down the stairs, holding the handrail in one meaty hand.

A minute after the balding head disappeared from view, Harry finally moved. He crept out from under the shelf, scooching out on his belly and standing up. He darted to the door that the man had come out of, putting a hand on the knob and easing it open.

The sound of light snores met Harry as he entered the room. A woman, supposedly the man's wife, was asleep in the bed. She was kind of pretty, Harry guessed. Dark hair and sharp features. She would look prettier covered in blood. 

Harry had been planning on waiting silently in the dark for the man to come back to bed but…

“Ah well, change of plans” he murmured to himself, padding towards the bed on soft feet. As he came to rest by the women's bedside, he let his magic waft over the room and seal of all sounds from escaping.

Over the almost two years that Harry had been living at the Ark, he had had so many opportunities to experiment with his chains. He had been able to make just one big chain, or ones with various types of weapons at the ends, or Harry's favorite, needles. Big or little needles that Harry could make appear at the ends, just as shiny and glowy as the rest on his chains. 

Harry was gonna use some big ass needles.

The woman murmured in her sleep, shifting slightly, but before she could even think of waking up Harry struck. 

Multiple chains appeared out of thin air, originating from his wrists and a foot long needle sitting at the end of each. They whistled through the air like darts before sinking into flesh with meaty thumps. One in the crook of each elbow, one under each collar bone and for the sugar on top, one right into the throat and out the back of the neck, severing the spine completely. 

She never even had a chance to scream.

That was too bad, Harry really liked it when they screamed.

He hefted the body into the air with ease, letting the limp body hang there like a puppet as blood dripped onto the white sheets. He was right, she looked prettier covered in blood. It had only took a moment for him to kill her and the man would be back any moment so while harry took a minute to admire his work, the chains holding the body disconnected themselves from Harry's wrists and hauled the body to the ceiling where the ends not in the women buried themselves into the popcorned  plaster, bits of paint and plaster falling onto the bed sheets to mingle with the blood.

With the metal fully anchored in the ceiling, the chains went completely slack. The body hung like a marionette, arms spread to the elbow, forearms hanging limp. The hair at the nape of the women's neck was beginning to mat with blood. Bloodless lips stretched tight around glowing metal, the corners of her mouth cracked and bleeding. 

Happy with his work, Harry darted to stand against the wall where he would be hidden when the door swung open. 

He only had to wait a few moments before the door swung open and his target stumbled in. The man let out a yell when he saw what had befallen his wife, half running, half falling as he reached for her. 

Harry made sure his silencing ward was still up as the door swung shut before he made himself known. 

“Do you like it?” Harry asked, his voice high and childish “I made it just for you, it's a present.”

The man turned, his mouth blubbering uselessly around words of denial he couldn't force out. His face was pale, he was shocked. It was a beautiful thing to watch. This terrible man's life was going up in flames, and Harry loved being the cause.

“What have you done, what HAVE YOU DONE?” The man roared, seemingly having gained a little of the bearings he had. It was funny to see a man so angry standing there in nothing but an old bathrobe. 

Harry giggled. 

“I killed her, can’t you tell” he replied, feigning ignorance. “I made her stop breathing, took the light from her eyes, sent her upstairs if you will”-a tilt of his head- “well she married you, so maybe downstairs.”

“You're a-a Demon!?” The man accused as he stumbled around looking for something to use as a weapon. He whispered hail Mary's under his breath as he faced the Thing that had taken his Lauren from him.

You are calling me a Demon? While ignoring your own crimes?” Harry snorted. God, humans were such hypocrites. But being a demon sounded nice to harry “Sure, I'm a demon.”

That was enough talking for Harry. He lunged for the man's torso without warning, launching himself through the air to hit the man square in the chest. The man gasped as they both tumbled to the floor. 

Harry lost his balance as the man began to fight back, throwing the demonic being on his chest off of him. Harry rolled, pushing himself onto his knees and lunging right back at his target. He didn't give the man a chance to throw him off this time. His teeth and nails pierced into flesh easily. The man howled when Harry dug in and pulled, bucking against the floor desperately as he tried to escape. 

Harry's growl vibrated against the man's neck as he clung on. He could end it in a split second if he wanted to, but it was too fun to listen to the man scream and feel him writhe. 

Without warning the man flipped them both, leaving Harry pressed hard against the carpet. His teeth unlatched from the man as the air was pushed out of his lungs, but his nails stayed pressed in, blood swelling under them. He didn't panic at the sudden change of position. He wrapped his legs around the man's waist, making sure his boots hit hard against the robe clad back. Hands tried to grip at his neck, but the position that Harry was in did not allow for the man to grab him easily.

This was so fun, Harry thought as he wrestled with a man three times his size. It was way easier than wrestling with Jeff when he was angry, and just wanted a target. Those occasions usually led to at least one broken bone (Usually more) and blood everywhere, not that a broken bone could put Harry down for more than a day at most. His injuries always healed faster than normal, even more so since he had started getting three meals a day and actual sleep.

He laughed, not caring how unhinged it sounded. He loved everything about this scene. The smell of blood and panic in the air made him giddy. The smile that split his face was too wide, preternatural in its sharpness. 

Harry dug his teeth back in harder, this time wrapping them around the man's trachea and crunching down with relish. His teeth went through the flesh like it wasn't there, his teeth meeting with a chomp before Harry pulled his head back, leaving a gaping hole that wheezed out precious oxygen like a faulty balloon. 

The serial killer on top of him slumped, his hands going to his throat to try and hold it closed. It wouldn't work, Harry knew. A human couldn't survive an injury like that without immediate medical attention, and Harry had no intention of letting the man even leave this room. At Least not while he was still alive.

Harry shoved the man off of himself and stood up. His ward was still in place, so no one had heard the fighting or the screaming. Harry was a little disappointed that it was over already, but he wanted to get back to the Ark and show off his kill. He let one of his chains appear and wrap itself around the still struggling man's neck like a dog’s leash as he straightened out his clothes.

The man gurgled wetly as he tried to claw air into his lungs, his eyes bulging at the lack of it. 

“Bad dog,” Harry said with a laugh. He delivered a quick kick to the man's ribs before he began dragging him towards the door with the chain. He dragged his prize out the door and headed down the hall towards the stairs. Bloody drag marks followed Harry as he walked. The two kids that lived in the house as well had rooms on the other side of the house and on the floor below this one, so Harry didn't bother being gentle as he dragged the man -now dead- down the stairs, letting the limp body thud down each stair. It was a funny sound, like weird drums. Also, he kinda wanted to see the kid's reactions to the blood, their missing father, and dead mother hanging from the ceiling. 

He walked through the house towards the front door and didn't bother hiding as he walked outside into the front yard. He had already done what he had come to do, and he was wearing a mask so there wasn't really a risk of anything happening. Not to mention, Harry really wanted to try running from the police so there really isn't anything at stake. 

Walking right up to the front gate, Harry pushed it open and walked right out with not a single ounce of opposition. He skipped a bit as he walked, letting his arms swing happily at his sides. He even hummed a bit as he walked.

It took him a bit to get to the grove of trees that held the symbol of Slenderman carved into one of the oldest trees. It was a pretty place, too pretty to hold a gateway to the place Harry called home. The moon shining through the leaves, a little breeze carrying the scent of water and plants on it. It was quiet and peaceful, and not at all bloody enough, but Harry wasn't allowed to mess it up, wasn't allowed to mess up any of the portal locations actually. Another one of the rules they had to follow. ‘Don't mess up around the portals, because we need them to do our jobs’.

So, Harry just ignored how much he wanted to paint the trees red and went on his way. 

As Harry walked towards the gnarled tree that had the circle with the X carved deep into the bark, a sharp crack sounded throughout the grove. 

He whirled around, startled at the sudden noise, only to make eye contact with what could only be a wizard. The man was tall, with sharp features, dark hair and even darker eyes. He was wearing some of the oddest clothes that Harry had seen. Well, not thee Oddest, but it was up there on the list, he lived with a monochrome clown, a boy who wouldn't wear anything that wasn't some shade of green, and Jeff for God's sake.

Well, there wasn't really anything wrong with the way Jeff dressed, but they liked to rag on him for dressing the most normally out of everyone. It was funny.

But this man was dressed in some sort of layered cape? Maybe a robe of some sort that reached all the way to the floor. Was he even wearing pants underneath them? 

When the man-made eye contact, he froze completely, his face going pale. He was completely still, barely swaying in the nighttime breeze as his eyes took in the sight before him. His eyes examined Harry's face, only able to see what wasn't hidden underneath the mask. When his eyes moved downwards, the last of the blood in his face drained when he saw the bloody corpse sitting at Harry's feet. 

He seemed to be trying to say something, but Harry didn't give him a chance.

He used two bloody fingers to pull down his mask in one swift movement and shot the man one of his toothiest grins, baring his sharpened canines at the man, slapping his other hand onto the jagged bark that held Slender Man’s symbol. 

He relished the dark man’s look of disbelief and slight horror as he and the body disappeared into the swirling fog, leaving nothing but a trail of blood, and an already drying red handprint on the tree as proof that he was ever there. 

Now, he had some bragging to do.

Chapter Text

Regret was something Severus drank to every time it reared its ugly head.

He regretted entirely too much for that to be a sustainable habit but he hadn't become an alcoholic yet so he counted that as a win.

Yet every time he thought about Harry Potter, he found himself cracking open a drink.

Everything concerning that Merlin damned boy made Severus bring his hands up to massage his temples.

It was supposed to be so simple. He was supposed to hate the boy, sneer at him at every chance, but instead his every preconceived notion he had about the boy had come toppling down on one completely normal day.

Dumbledore had strolled into his classroom, hands folded behind his back and hideous gray robes trailing behind him. He looked every part the benevolent headmaster he proclaimed himself to be. It left a terrible taste in Severus’s mouth. He hated that man with his entire being. 

Severus would look back on this day in the future and wish he had punched that benevolent fuck in his stupid bearded face.

Dumbledore had asked him to do a house call for a future student, not telling him who the student was. Severus had not thought much of it at the time. The headmaster seemed to delight in being cryptic.

And Severus had gone, he had gone to check on a future student at the whim of the headmaster.

The house was a horror show when he arrived. The street was completely destitute, but that wasn't out of the ordinary for the middle of the night, but something in the air made the hairs on the nape of his neck prickle. He strode purposely towards the door of the house, double checking the address on the mailbox as he did. Number 4 Privet Drive was completely bland, beige walls and neatly trimmed lawn.

Severus sneered at the yard as he passed, walking up to the red painted door. At least the door added a splash of boldness to the property. 

He didn't want to knock this late at night, the idea of having to talk to some random Muggleborns parents sounded terrible. So, he didn't. He took his wand from his pocket, waving it at the door. The latch clicked open, and the door swung open silently.

The stench of rot hit him straight in the face.

He covered his face with a robed arm as he fought down a gag. The smell was eye watering and Severus knew something was terribly wrong in this situation. 

A wave of his wand had a Bubble-Head Charm wrapping around his head and face. He took a deep breath of clean air, squared his sounders and stepped forward.

What he found was something he wished he hadn't.

There were three bodies in the house, all laying in their beds. The bodies had been there for at least two days, maybe more, but long enough for the decay to set in. It was a horrible sight. The two bodies in the master bedroom were completely desecrated. They were torn to chunks and both the man and the women were missing both of their eyes. 

The realization that the skinny body on the bed was Petunia Evans had Severus losing the fight against his gags. He threw up on the carpeted floor. When he was done and his eyes cleared, the first thing that he saw was a trail of tiny red footsteps. 

Someone with feet that small shouldn't ever be soaked in enough blood for it to leave a trail.

He retraced the steps, following them back out into the hall and into another room, a child's room. There was another body in the child sized bed, an overly large body for a child, but a child, nonetheless. 

It was torn apart in the same way as the other two, but the face was intact enough for Severus to know that it wasn't Harry Potter. Because that was who the headmaster had sent him to check in on wasn't it? There was no other explanation for the fact that Petunia Evans was dead in the room over. 

But where was the boy? Was Harry Potter dead somewhere in the house? The thought was not a nice one to think. 

He stood in silence for a moment, staring down at the blue clad boy in the bed. It looked like something Mulciber would have done in the midst of a Death Eater raid. Who would do this to a child? Severus could only hope that whoever did it had mercy on Harry Potter. 

He left the room, closing the door behind him softly. He kept his eyes on the floor as he kept following the trail of bloody footprints. They were thinner than the other ones, less blood than before, barely a rusty red outline. 

They led back down the carpeted stairs and right to an open cupboard that he had dismissed when he had first passed it. It was unassuming at first glance, a plain wooden door built into the wall. But when Severus used a hand to nudge open the door, any normalcy that might have remained vanished.

It was a miniature room. A ratty thing that could barely be called a bed, some rags that had clearly been used as blankets at some point and stained heavily with dried blood. It looked like some feral creature's nest. But maybe one of the most horrible things that Severus could see were the pictures pasted to the walls. 

The scrawled-out crayon drawings of a child had made him freeze in his tracks. Streaks of blue and green, swirls of red and yellow, all on pieces of stained papers. The one that caught Severus’s attention the most was the page that was completely filled in with green. Green, green, and greener, aside from the two poorly shaped red eyes centered in the middle of the paper. It was obvious what (whowhoWHO) it was.

There was a drawing of Voldemort in a cupboard that had clearly been used as a cage. A cage for who was very likely Harry Potter.

He shut down after that, occluding so hard it could be considered instant dissociation.

He went back to Hogwarts, reported his findings to the headmaster, before heading right down to his quarters and downing about three bottles of Fire Whiskey. Days later, when he had finally emerged from his drunken stupor, he went about brewing enough different locating potions to find an army. Almost all of them had some sort of reaction but none of them could provide him with an actual location. They failed every single time, but there was still a reaction. If Harry Potter was dead, there would be no reaction at all.

Harry Potter was alive.

The boy was alive.

Almost two years later one of his potions finally worked. 

Severus had spent a few good minutes just staring in shock when the potion had given him the location. He had been trying to use the locator potions on and off for years, the idea that one would finally work growing dimmer with every passing day. But this one worked.

The location it had given him was unassuming. A little grove of trees in Sacramento. He wasted no time, dashing through the castle, ignoring the portraits that tried to talk to him as he passed. As soon as he passed the Hogwarts gates and made his way past the wards, he apparated away. It was a long way to Sacramento, taking him multiple jumps to get there, but he got there.

The sight that greeted him was as terrible as it was breathtaking. Harry Potter stood there in all his three-and-a-half-foot glory, eyes glowing like a flashlight in the dim moonlight. There was blood, so much blood. It was splashed across the boy's face and his hands were soaked in it, a mask of it built up around his mouth like a muzzle.

His clothes looked like something out of a goth teen magazine, all black, except for his knee high black and white socks, and most confusingly, bright neon -fucking- green combat boots-

-and a body. There was a dead body sitting right at the boy's feet, the man's throat torn out and his eyes still bulging in terror. 

With the amount of evidence literally staring Severus in the face, he could not deny what was right in front of him.

Harry Potter had killed a man, and by the happy look on his face it wasn't the first time. 

The Boy Who Lived was a murderer.

The boy in question shot him a toothy grin, canines too sharp to be natural, and slapped one bloody hand onto a symbol that was carved deeply into the tree behind him. 

Harry Potter disappeared into a swirl of fog; the corpse was dragged along behind him by a glowing chain that Severus had not noticed before. The last bit of blood that might have been left in his face vanished when he made out the symbol carved into the tree. He could make out the deeply scarred lines even with the bloody handprint that hadn't been there a moment before marring its surface.

Severus had been a weird kid, and an even weirder teen. He knew this and accepted it. He had pursued some of the darkest corners of the web when he had been able. He was not proud of the things he had seen, no matter how much his curiosity had begged him to look, and look, and look.

So, he looked, and it was the only reason that he could recognize the symbol on the tree. There were rumors and murmurs on the deep parts of the web. Chatter about a being who would steal you away and turn you into a murderer. Some said the people he collected were already murderers when he found them, they thought he found the sick and deranged, brought them to his home and let them stay. The being had so many names. The Pale One, The Tall Man, Der Schlanker Man, The Thin Man…

But the one that surfaced the most was Slenderman. 

…Oh god, what had happened to the boy?

Severus took a breath, and straightened his shoulders, he could have a breakdown over all this new information later. He had things to do and letters to send. He knew the barest hints of where the boy might be. He had no solid location, but he had a name, and an owl could deliver a letter with just a name. 

Slenderman. 

God, the things he did.

Chapter Text

Slender Man, 

I will not tell you my name for fear of retaliation before I can conclude my purpose but know that I mean for no ill will to come from this letter. If you are unaware, Harry Potter is a wizard, a very famous wizard in the wizarding community. I am also a wizard, and when Harry Potter was a year old, I was coerced into swearing a magically binding vow to protect the boy with my life. This, along with a life debt that he has inherited from his father, is what compelled me to write this letter. I need to know that the boy is safe, no matter the cost. If I could ensure that he is alive and well, I would be in debt to you. I would even forfeit my own bodily rights if I might be able to see him with my own eyes. I will admit that I despised the boys' father, and I was fully prepared to despise the boy as well. But new information has come to light, and I find that my preconceived notions of the boy have changed. With the new information, my concern about the boy's whereabouts has increased. Other than this, I find that I have very little left to live for. I loved the boys' mother until the day she died, and I will love her forever, even though the feeling has dulled over the years. There is only so long you can love someone who never loved you back and never will. But because of this, if I could make sure her son is alive and well, I would forfeit my life.

Sincerely, 

S

-”So, this letter is from some random suicidal guy who knows Harry?” Jeff asked, looking over the letter that his boss had handed to him a few moments before. 

“Forget that! Are we just going to gloss over the fact that wizards exist?” Toby said, interrupting Slender Man before he could reply to Jeff. 

Receiving a letter was slightly intriguing to Slender Man, but the content of said letter did a much better job at catching the immortals attention. The sender clearly knew more than anyone rightly should about him and his wards. There had been great measures taken to keep knowledge from getting out.  The knowledge that did get out was greatly limited. Fuzzy camera videos, bad pictures, and word of mouth, that sort of thing, but here he was, pondering over a letter sent by a suicidal wizard. 

“For the time being, yes, we will be ignoring that” Slender Man replied, reaching one long arm to pluck the piece of parchment from Jeff’s pale hand “I will be sending a reply promptly, the sender may not have opted to include any personal information, but it will be childes play to trace its origins.” 

And it would be. No matter how hard someone may try to conceal the aura-the essence if they're very being-when writing a letter, it can always be traced. The aura seeps into everything it touches, permeating book, clothe, stone, and whatever else. This aura is completely undetectable to anyone who has not made contact with an upper being. There are many upper beings, some with names and some without. He himself is one of those beings. He has the ability to do what others cannot. He can find anyone, anywhere, no matter the conditions. 

And right now, he has a wizard to find. 

_

Out of everything that Severus was expecting when he opened his eyes and made his way down to his dinghy little kitchen in his night clothes, it wasn't to see a faceless abomination standing behind his kitchen table. 

He will never admit, even to himself, that he shouted like a first year and hurled the first thing he could find with his hand at the faceless being. A mug impacted a peeling cabinet and shattered with a crash. Severus stood there feeling half a fool and half terrified as he stared down the being with his eyes wide.

The being, a being who Severus was now realizing, bared a startling resemblance to what Severus knew the being called Slender Man looked like. It was tall, startlingly tall, its bald head almost brushing the ceiling. It wore a suit like it was made too. The straight black fabric helping to enhance his startling figure. 

And then the creature spoke. 

Severus fell to the floor, clutching his ears and screamed. The voice that was making its home between his ears sounded like static made living, grating and tearing at his mind. The sound that he made as he tried to fight the pain was inhuman, but even then, there was no way Severus wouldn't be able to hear the words being spoken. 

“Severus Snape, you contacted me regarding the well-being of a boy named Harry Potter and given the sheer desperation that had seeped into your ink and parchment, I find myself compelled to complete your request” Slender Man said as he glided to stand over the body of who he knew was a broken man. The man panted against the wooden floorboards; his hand clenched so tightly over his ears that his nails had begun to draw blood. He knew that his true voice could be harmful when used on someone or something other than his proxies, a fact that he took full advantage of, but this man would soon become one of his, and the barest stirrings of pity crossed his mind. 

With little effort of his part, Slender Man reeled in the static that made up his voice just enough for it to cause a deep headache and nothing more. It was always a great gift to gain another childe and he did not want to scare this one of before he could even become one of them.

“I will take you to him and you may determine his wellbeing with your own eyes” Slender Man said, his voice taking on a much less harmful tone. He crouched down, letting one of his hands, well not hands but not tentacles, tentacles seemed like the wrong word for them, barely stroke the man on the floor's black hair. 

Severus Snape tremble a bit as he removed his hands from his ears. He froze as he felt the being stroke his hair. The touch was soft, softer than anyone had touched him in recent years. He couldn't bring himself to move away from the touch, and as he lay there, the words the being had spoken registered in his mind. 

“You will let me see him?” Severus croaked, his dark eyes darting up to where Slender Mans’s eyes would have been if he had them. The man sounded so lost as he spoke, sounding like a scorned child instead of an adult. Many of Slender Man’s children sounded like, well children to him. To someone as long lived as him, someone who had seen centuries, a thirty-year-old man would seem like a child. 

“Yes, my childe, I will take you to and into my home” Slender Man replied,” And I expect that you will be staying there for quite some time.”

“What?” Severus replied, his eyes going hard as he jerked away from the beings touch and scrambled to his feet. What little dignity Severus thought he might have left was stripped away when he stumbled as he tried to stand. He straightened his cloak the best he could and stood straight as he stared down the supernatural being that stood less than a meter from him “What do you mean?” Severus asked with a cough.

“Well given your mental state and the tether fraying within you, I believe it will be better for you and me if you stay for a while, or was your promise to completely give up your bodily autonomy a lie? If so, I will have to retract my offer of taking you to see the boy.” Slender Man replied, his grating voice ticking backup to a less tolerable level. 

The change in tone and the words spoken in it startled Severus “No!” he burst out “N, I did not mean that, I was just curious” Severus finished, trying to calm his tone as much as he could. 

It felt as if every substantial thought he had ever had, had flew right out of his head. And yup, the fog that he was so used to came flooding in. Any thoughts that he might have continued to have in the presence of Slender Man, ceased to be as one of the strongest dissociative episodes he had had in recent years hit him full force. 

Slender Man cocked his head when he felt the presence within the dark man go mute. He was quite well aware of the many coping mechanisms of the mentally unsteady. The man was disassociating, and as he was not present to object to being taken, Slender Man proceeded to do just that. 

_

When Slender Man led an unknown darkly clothed man up the rickety porch, through the door, and into the kitchen, Harry’s first thought on the man was how sad he looked. 

Following very close behind that thought, but no less important to him, was about the man's very swishy cloak. Harry thought it would look much better on him though, even as oversized as it might be. 

The man seemed pretty pathetic to Harry. The man seemed droopy, for no better word, with blank eyes and lanky hair. Kinda like one of those short brown dogs with ears almost as long as they were. The droopy dog man, walked like he was a ghost, drifting from foot to foot wherever he was led.

Harry crept along behind Slender Man as the being gently pushed the man foreword whenever he seemed to falter. One wouldn't Slender Man could be gentle. With all his sharp edges and frighting look, no one would ever look at something like Slender Man and think it was gentle. 

Harry kept following the two as they made their way into the shabby living room. His small feet where completely silent against the floor as he crept forwards toward the doorway. He peeked through the doorway, watching as the droopy man was gently shoved onto one of the couches. Harry fondly recalled the times he drifted within his mind without a care in the world, feeling envious that the droopy man was clearly doing it, when Harry wasn't. Harry wanted the floaty, dream-like feeing, even if he usually only zoned out if he was alone in his room.

That wasn't fair! The man was doing it without Harry, and he hadn't even asked if Harry wanted to do it too. 

Even though these thoughts were the type that E.J would chastise him for having, Harry proceeded to trot right into the room. Ignoring Slender Man backing into the shadows and making his way out of the room, Harry walked right over to the couch and poked the man in the cheek. Hard. 

The man barely stirred, just shifting slightly, before settling with a small sigh. Harry huffed at the lack of reaction, jabbing the man in the cheek again, even harder than the first time. His fingernail actually broke skin this time, a trickle of red beginning to make its way down a sallow cheek. The man shifted more this time, blinking his dark eyes as they slowly cleared.  

Dark eyes went wide at the realization of being in a completely unknown location. The man's gaze darted from place to place, scanning the room for threats, before going still when they fell onto Harry's face.

Harry stared right back, making sure that his eyes were open as much as possible. He knew that doing that made him look more unnerving as usually. Jeff had told him so. 

“I’m winning” Harry stated while he kept his eyes locked onto the mans and crossing his arms.

“What?” the man asked, his deep voice sounding lost. 

“I’m winning, cus’ I’m really good at not blinking” Harry replied. Was the man dumb?

“Not blinking?” the man asked again, blinking as he did.

Harry jumped on the weakness “Hah! I won!” he cheered, throwing his skinny arms into the air. Harry could never win staring competitions with Jeff or Sally, and they were the only ones who would play with him. Jeff’s lack of eyelids meant that he couldn't blink even if he wanted to, and Sally was a ghost. Harry was pretty sure the only reason Jeff played that particular game with him was because he thought it was funny when harry got mad when he lost. And he lost every time. 

The man seemed to be in shock, his eyes blown wide, and his mouth parted slightly, jaw slack. Even though he looked like a droopy dog, Harry thought the man looked kinda nice. Like a creepy thing you would find in the woods and keep as a collectable. The blood on his sunken cheek stood out in a way that empathized the uncanniness of the man's appearance. 

“What's your name!” Harry asked excitedly, almost shouting, grabbing onto one large, pale hand and shaking in up and down. He was rocking on his feet, his previous anger feeling like a distant memory. 

The mas stared dumbfounded for a moment before tentatively replying “Severus” he said, “my name is Severus, and you are Harry?” he asked, something like hope building in his voice. 

Harrys eyes went squinty when the man -Severus- said his name. It was never good when someone you don't know, knows your name “How do’ya know my name?” he questioned, both his hands tightening around the man's hand, and his nails once again digging into flesh. He was about to disregard his own question and launch himself at the man, when said man's reply stopped him. 

“I knew your mother.” 

The answer was voiced in a soft, raspy voice. 

“What?” Harry answered, sounding lost, his grip going slack. 

“I knew your mother” Severus said after roughly clearing his throat “-and your father” was added as an afterthought “they loved you so mu-”

“LIAR!” Harry screamed. He ripped his hands off of the man’s, making sure that his nails dragged against pale skin “YOUR A LIAR!” 

And with that, Harry ran out of the room, leaving a bewildered and damaged man in his wake. 

Chapter Text

It wasn't often that Harry was unsettled enough to cling to someone for comfort, but here he was, clinging onto E.J’s front like some sort of mold. 

He clung onto the man like a limpet, periodically removing his face from where it had imprinted itself into his collar bone, to glare hatefully at the pale man sitting a few chairs down from them at the table. The pallid man was slumped in his seat, keeping his eyes on the table as he tried to ignore the sharp-eyed glares of Lily’s child. He looked particularly wet and sad as he tried to remain unnoticed, which was actually pretty funny to watch from another perspective. Case in point, Jeff and Toby weren't even trying to hide how amusing they found the sight of a grown ass man cowering away from a kid who barely reached his waist. 

The fact that the potions master could not really be considered a tall man made this much more humorous. The dour man could strike an imposing figure when he wanted, his dark cloaks and unfriendly expressions made him seem much taller that he actually was. In fact, when looking at the man, ignoring said dark cloaks and imposing expressions, he was really quite short. 

In true teenager fashion, Jeff, and Toby, along with Laughing Jack, who may be physically an adult but with the mental maturity of a toddler on crack, had made it their goal in life to silently make fun of the man about his height without ever letting the man catch on. 

And given that the man in question spent his days trying as hard as he could to pretend nothing existed, the number of times that they had almost been caught was astounding. It was hilarious to watch Toby fall over himself as he tried to scuttle away from the potion master's black-eyed glare. 

The man had been given a room on his first day in the manor, and he had taken to be hidden away within it for the majority of the two weeks he had been there. He strayed away from the confines of his room during mealtimes, but that was about it. He seemed to be trying to avoid everyone, especially Harry, but he had to come out for meals, unless he wanted to starve himself to death. 

These mealtimes had become prime time for Harry to glare at the man. Glaring is all he could do now, because after the first three times he had drawn blood from the man, E.J had taken to bodily restraining him during mealtimes. So, here harry was, glaring at the man that had come into his home, interrupting the security that had appeared as he got comfortable living in the manor. Now, there was an unknown man living a floor down from his room, and Harry did not have a good track record with angry looking men. 

“How many times is E.J going to have to tell you to stop glaring for the message to sink in?” Jeff asked. 

Harry shifted his narrowed eyes from the black clad man to Jeff, inserting as much malice into his eyes as he could. And then he hissed at him, which wasn't something that he normally did. He was tense, there was a stranger in his home, and nobody was doing anything about it or letting him do anything about it. God damn it! The one time he really wanted to kill someone, and nobody would let him! 

The clatter of general mealtime sounds stopped for a moment as people took in the fact that one of the more feral members of the household hissed like a weird cat. The sudden attention just irked Harry more. If he had hackles, they would be raised. 

And then he did have hackles.

The people sitting at the table could only watch as Harry’s face elongated. His ears shifted and stretched upwards towards the top of his skull and his mouth and nose stretched forward and rounded out, shaping themselves into a snout. As this happened, short, downy looking brown and black speckled fur sprouted. The hiss that had been simmering low in Harry's throat morphed into a grumbling whine. His now furry ears lost their human shape, fuzzy brown fur sprouting there as well as the ears took on a rounded triangle shape. Harry panted, his hands digging their newly grown claws into E.J’s clothes and the flesh underneath as fur grew in on his arms in a short fuzzy looking layer. There were dark brown spots littering his arms and face, the coloring looking so dark that it could be mistaken as black at a glance. 

It felt like he was on fire, his skin was burning as fur sprouted from it, and it felt like all of his bones were shifting slightly to the left and then spinning in place. His teeth felt too loose and too tight at the same time, and he could feel them lengthening in their sockets. Through the painful haze that had settled over him, Harry could feel and here the chaos that was erupting around him. Voices were raised and chair legs screeched against the floor as they were shoved away from the table, and E.J was trying to pry Harry’s hands -paws?- out of their grip on his arms. 

Harry’s ears ached on his head as they took in the sounds surrounding him, the raised voices and stomping feet. He whined high in his throat as he detached his claws from the body underneath him to cover his ears. Except his ears weren't where they should be. Harry’s eyes blew wide as his hands shifted towards the top of his head and landed on what felt like a fuzzy pair of ears. 

Harry burst into tears.

“I don't wanna be a-a dog!” He sobbed “Dogs are bad, and it's too loud in here!”

His ears hurt and his teeth hurt and his everything hurt. There was a strange man who kept telling lies in his territory and nobody was doing anything about it, and everything was horrible.

Harry buried his face in E.J’s shoulder, his hysterical sobbing barely muffled. He kept his hands over his ears, his stupid furry stupid ears. 

“You're not a dog, little Crow” E.J crooned, drawing the violently sobbing child to his chest. He looked up at everyone else around the table, his already gaping black eyes looking even more blown than usual, and his expression was mirrored on everyone else's face. 

And why wouldn't it be? The child he had come to see as his own had just turned into some weird animal hybrid after hissing at Jeff. 

The new man, Severus Snape, was looking just as surprised as the rest of them and seeing as Harry and the man were supposedly of the same species as the man, and E.J had no idea what to do about the violently sobbing child in his arms, he resorted to asking the man. 

“What's happening to him?” E.J demanded, hitching his-the boy up to further press him into his chest and standing up “You're the same species as him, so what is happening?”

The man looked startled at being addressed directly, but he responded none the less, “First of all, “Wizards are not a species” Severus started, his eyes glinting and his lip curling “Secondly, it looks like accidental Animagus magic.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jeff butted in, dodging and ignoring the fork that Hoodie threw at him.

“I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand” Severus responded, his lip curling even more. 

“Oi! What the fuck does that mean!” Jeff said, slamming his pale, scarred hands against the tabletop as he jumped to his feet. He sounded murderous, but that didn't seem to affect the dour man sitting across from him. 

Snape skittered his eyes over the pale teens body in a clearly judgmental way “Seeing as you look like a delinquent and your vocabulary leaves much to be desired, I think you can draw your own conclusions from my statement” the man said, before looking away and clearly dismissing the pale teen.  

“Jeff, don’t you dare” E.J said, seeing the way Jeff was preparing to launch himself face first at the man. The teen clearly did not like being insulted. On the other hand, seeing the objectively attractive man insult one of the most annoying people E.J had ever met was doing things to him. It was doing a lot of things for him.

But this was not the time to contemplate how attractive he found angry looking men and how much he liked Severus’s voice. 

The man -Severus- tilted his head slightly in thanks, before continuing his explanation.

“Animagus magic is a very complected form of magic” Severus said, his face shifting into something softer as he began explaining in more depth “It is the art of transforming one's body into the animal that fits them most. For example, is someone is extremely loyal their form may be a species of dog or if they have conniving traits, they may be some sort of rodent. The type of animal changes from person to person, and while the Animagus transformation is considered one of the most difficult magical achievements that can be accomplished, sometime children can trigger in earlier if their emotions are out of control.” 

There was silence for a moment after the explanation was given, aside from the hitching, animal like sobs that were still coming from Harry, before it was broken.

“So, you're telling me that because the kid is mental, that he can turn into a dog?” Jeff said. Apparently, Harry’s new ears could hear very well, because the sobs that had been slowly dying down returned full force. 

“You really want to get your ass kicked, don’t you?” Said Toby, sounding genuinely curious about why Jeff was being such an obtuse ass. 

“I’ll kick your ass!” Jeff responded.

“God dammit Jeff! You know he doesn't like dogs!” E.J seethed, his temper snapping. He ran a gloved hand up and down the boys back in an attempt to soothe him, ignoring how the claw marks on his arms pricked as he did. It wasn’t working if the lack of change in Harry’s sobs said anything.

“Well, he likes Smile Dog, so how was I supposed to know he didn't like them?”

“It was one of the first things we learned when we got him!” Toby burst in “He literally had a song about it”

“Shut up!’ Jeff shouted, and this time it was only the way Hoodie grabbed him that stopped the pale teen from leaping out of his chair and turning Toby’s face into a bloody paste.

“If it helps any, he looks like a Hyena, not a dog” Severus interrupted “and hyenas are more closely related to cats than dogs.”

“So, I’m notta d-dog?” Harry asked, lifting his head, showcasing his animal like eyes. They had shifted from their normal vibrant green to a completely black iris with only a sliver of white sclera. Where his mouth and nose had been was now a stubby snout with a big white snout that made him look adorable. The giant fluffy ears nestled within his hair just elevated that. On the other hand, the jagged looking canines in his mouth made him look much more intimidating.

E.J rubbed his thumb firmly against the now furry crease between Harry’s eyebrows, reviling in the way the child leaned into his touch without flinching, his eyes fluttering as he leaned into the petting. 

“No, you're not a dog” E.J murmured ‘Severus said you look like a hyena.”

“What's a hyena?” Harry asked, his voice sounding stuffy and congested from his crying. 

“It is a type of animal that looks much like a dog but isn’t one. They usually live in the Middle East and not around here, but I believe it is a very fitting form for you” Severus answered before E.J could, his voice quieter now that he was speaking directly to Harry. 

The boy narrowed his animal eyes at the man, but he crawled off of E.J’s lap and padded around the table to stand in front of the man, a stubby little tail sticking out from above the waistband of his shorts. Severus stared down at the boy with dark eyes, and he felt just a little intimidated by the fact that the boy was staring back with eyes even darker than his. Harry sized up the man for a moment, before he shoved himself into the man's lap, butting his head against the man's chin like an affectionate cat. 

Severus froze for a moment, his eyes going wide in surprise. He sat stock still in his seat for a long moment before hesitantly wrapping his arms around the small fuzzy body in his lap. 

E.J looked at the scene with fondness, more so for his little Crow than the man whose lap he was in, but there was some affection for the darkly clad man. Just a little bit. Also, the man was hot.

Chapter Text

Harry snuffled against the man he was clinging to as he shifted himself to make himself more comfortable, as comfortable as he could considering he had just grown a pair of animal ears and a tail.

His teeth felt large and clunky in his mouth and all the noises in the room seemed like they were echoing around louder and louder. The rough black cloth underneath him wasn't quite helping with the excess of stimulation, but it smelled pleasant enough. The smell was not unlike a garden, the scent of herbs and freshly tilled dirt.

Harry shoved his nose harder into the man beneath him, pressing into the crease between an arm and a ribcage. His own breath was warm against his face, and he fought the urge to curl back his lips and clack his front teeth together in a nibble. He didn't know why he wanted to, usually when he wanted to bite someone it was with the intention of hurting them or eating them. This was different though, it was like something new had made a place for itself in his brain, some new instincts that burrowed in and demanded that he react a certain way.

It was stupid, everything was stupid and now he was a dog! Well, a hyena, but it felt like the same thing. Harry just wanted to sleep. He wanted to crawl upstairs to his room and curl up in a compact little ball within his nest. Nom-Nom’s was there, safely tucked away near the various bloody nick-nack’s Harry had stashed away. The misshapen plastic dinosaur bottle that Harry had brought with him when he had left the Dursley’s was still sitting right there alongside his stuffed rabbit. Though, the eyes that Harry had put in it had shrunken, dried and hardened in a way that made them resemble wrinkly marbles more than actually eyes at this point.

Making a strange noise in the back of his throat, Harry proceeds to do exactly what his stupid hind brain was telling him to do. His teeth chattered as he pressed his face against the man even harder and nibbled sharply. The man underneath him tensed at the first touch of teeth through his clothes, and he stayed tense. Harry’s nose was scrunched backwards from where it was pressed, which made in ache in a peculiar way.

He didn't know why, but Harry had been expecting some specific sort of reaction from his gesture, some sort of affirmation or attention, but the man under just stayed still and tense.

In retaliation, Harry made sure that his next small bite would pinch at the man's skin, causing a sharp pain. The man jolted; the arms that has been cautiously draped over Harry’s back retreating. But before the man had a chance to do anything else, Harry was up and out of his lap, his now paw-padded and clawed feet clacking against the wooden floor as he scrambled out of reach. He didn't know if the man would respond violently, but he would rather not find out.

Harry made his way back towards E.J, picking up a discarded piece of meat from one of the plates on the table when the blue masked man pointed at it. With food once again in his grasp, Harry felt much better as he settled back onto his da- E.J’s lap and tuned back into the conversions still going on around the table.

“Look, I'm not saying that we would use him as the main way to get rid of the bodies, but I can’t see any problems with it” Harry heard BEN say “The kid like eating ‘em already and now he is literally designed for it, and I think we call all agree that the pile in the backyard is getting a little too disgusting and squishy to be safe” It was BEN who was talking, which surprised Harry a bit because BEN wasn't normally one to add to a conversation of his own free will, especially in an argumentative tone. BEN was one of the quietest members of the manor, just a step above Maskey and Hoodies absolute mutism.

“That doesn't mean you can just toss all your used corpses at him” E.J protested in an even tone “Stop looking at him like that Jeff, I said no, I don’t want him getting sick.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about, my face in completely normal” Jeff said, lifting what was left of his nose to sniff in an offended manor “This is slander.”

“... Do you even want me to respond to that?” E.J said after a moment, hellbent on ignoring how Toby was laughing his ass off across from him “Because I won’t”?

Even Hoodie and Mask were sniggering quietly from where they sat.

“Why wouldn’t you reply? Are you saying I'm lying? Cause if you are I’ll beat your ass.”

“Please, look in a mirror and ask me that question again.”

“Are you calling me ugly? How dare you!’

This was a recurring joke that Jeff liked to partake in. He, above everyone else, knew that his face was anything but normal. It was a fire bleached mess of scar tissue that made people shit themselves when they looked at him.

“Again, do you really want me to answer that?” I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.”

Harry love watching these little performances. They had all the fun of a good fight without all the yelling. The yelling Harry preferred most was the screams of dying victim and not angry yelling. Fear filled voices were much more soothing. This was funny. Harry chewed on him meat, vaguely noticing how easily his teeth rendered the chewy morsel. That seemed to be an upside to his new animal parts. At that thought, he swallowed his last mouthful and moved to run his clawed fingers over the fur that had sprouted over his arms.

It was very soft, like velvet but longer and fluffier. Harry cooed in the back of his throat as the fur parted under his sharp claws. Harry loved soft things and now he was a soft thing. He had paw pads on the pads of his fingers, rounding them out and making them look soft and full. He moved his hands upwards to his face and ran his hands along his face or was it a snout right now. In place of his normal nose was a soft, moist canine like nose. Like the one that Smile Dog has on his snout. Harry tapped the pad on his index finger against it and giggle at the feeling. Moving on from that discovery, Harry touched along the short wispy whiskers that had sprouted. They tickled against his palms in a funny way and the short fur on his snout was smooth.

It was weird that his face was so long now. It felt weird every time he moved his head, like there was a heavy sticked taped to his face that swung back and forth when he moved. Overall, his head felt heavier than before.

Looking down, Harry could also tell that his legs had change shape. His shins had gotten a bit longer and under his socks, it looked like his feet had rounded out to look more like paws. Harry reached down to pull off his socks, ignoring the way E.J grunted in the middle of his sentence as Harry shifted on his lap.

“Be careful” E.J chided as Harry moved.

“Sorry” Harry replied, not sounding sorry at all “But I’m looking at my paws!”

“Yes yes, they are very cute” E.J chided “But your elbow is digging into my spleen, and it is a mite uncomfortable.”

“They are not cute!” Harry growled, grabbing one leg to lift it up to eye level “My paws are sharp and scary looking!’

No one sitting at the table had the mind to tell him that he looked like a literal stuffed animal at the moment and saying that he looked scary in that little growl of his just endeared him to them more than usual.

“It is quite unusual that you have only partially transformed into your animal counterpart” Severus said, breaking his silence as he gazed at Harry with dark eyes “It is almost never seen that a person only partially transforms."

“Is it bad?” E.J asked, his grip one the child on his lap tightening in trepidation.

“Not particularly, no” Severus replied, “It is uncommon, but I do not think it is a cause for concern, but I do think he should work on controlling his animal attributes and how to shift fully from one form to another.”

“I can be a full animal?” Harry questioned. It was a fun idea, and while he didn't know exactly what a hyena looked like, he could probably play with Smile Dog better if he was an animal.

“If you can get full control of your shift, yes” The dark haired man replied, folding his hands on his lap and he looked towards who he had presumed was the boys guardian “If you would be admissible to it, I can help him with it, along with teaching him how to control his magic-” A tiny flinch from the boy “-and with other subjects that regard the magical side of the community”

E.J narrowed his eyes at the man, well he narrowed the gaping black chasms behind his mask, but the impression was there. On one hand, the new man in the manor had been a sore spot for E.J’s boy since the day he had shown up, but he was also the only one of them that had any knowledge of the magic that Harry seemed to have.

“I will… consider it, and Harry will also have some input in this decision” E.J replied.

Harry looked up at his name, his eyes looking like an especially eager puppies from looking at his knew features.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Severus wants to teach you how to control when you turn into an animal along with some other things, but I told him that he had to ask you if that was what you wanted to do” The blue masked man ran a tender hand over his boys fluffy ears and reveled in how, once again, the boy leaned into the touch.

“Would you be there? Like when you taught me about Human bodies?”

“If you want me to be there, I will be.”

“Then that's okay, he can do it.”

E.J turned back to the man and said “Well, that's settled, we’ll set up a time for you to teach him and I will be there to supervise as long as he wants me to be there.”

Severus nodded, seemingly content with that reply as he leaned back in his chair “Give me some time to collect some supplies that I might need, but other than that I can start teaching him at any time.”

“Good” E.J replied before continuing “Well, now that that is done, it has been a tiring day and this meal lasted much longer that I thought it would and it is now far past the bedtime of Little Crow’s, or well, a Little Hyena now if you will” E.J stood up easily lifting his child along with him “and little hyenas need to get to sleep”

“But I don’t wannaaaa” Harry whined.

He protested the idea of going to bed a bit, though not as much as he would have done if he really didn’t want to. Cuddling with his da-E.J was one of his favorite things to do and now that he was fuzzy it would probably be even better.

“I don’t care, it is time for little bitty ones to go to sleep, and you can come with me to my room if you really want to.”

Like Harry didn’t already know that. Every time something even slightly stressful happened, E.J would take the opportunity to hole up in his room with Harry. So, this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“I'm not bitty” Harry grumbled, the sound deeper than usual, but he settled down in E.J’s arms without any other words.

Chapter Text

Harry loved waking up in E.J’s bed. It was so much bigger than his wardrobe was and sank in in a way that made his massive pile of blankets feel solid in a way that only a stuffed mattress could do. 

And even though the giant bed wasn’t enclosed in the way that his closet was, having E.J so close to him and knowing that the man rarely slept enough to be considered off guard, made Harry feel secure enough to sleep without worry. 

Harry woke from his sleep very comfortably and cocooned inside of the bed's main heavy blanket. His arms were pressed snugly against his chest as he wriggled himself into a more comfortable position. It was warm in a way that made his head floaty and his body feel just as weightless. He never wanted to move again, content to stay there, burrowed in the blankets for as long as possible.

Harry huffed and his breath fanned against his face from the inside of the blanket. Harry was content to keep laying there but clearly some higher power had decided that he was not to get any more sleep. 

Said higher power was shifting the covers on the bed, the blankets rustling against each other as E.J got up from the bed. Harry could hear E.J’s feet hit the carpeted floor and he groaned. If E.J was getting out of bed, that meant that Harry was going to be forced to follow soon after. The man liked making sure that Harry got out of bed at a consistent and reasonable time everyday. It was horrible. The man was much less strict regarding what time Harry went to sleep at, citing that if the boy was stupid enough to not sleep, then it was his own fault if he was tired the next day.

So, with as much begrudging annoyance as he could muster, Harry hefted himself up with his arms and let the blanket fall away. 

E.J was doing what he normally did in the mornings, getting his clothes together and making sure that nothing had been stolen in the night. Harry rubbed his bleary eyes as they were hit with the dim dawn light that he could see coming through the windows. His hair was a mess, falling into his eyes and tangling against his thin fingers as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. The claws from yesterday were still there, sticking out of his fingertips, and his skin was still littered with fur. Just like his hair, the patches and stripes of fur were rumpled from sleep.

It was strange seeing the fur on his arms. This was the first time that he had woken up with the new hyena features. Yesterday had been rough, but after he had gotten over the fact that he could seemingly turn into an animal at will, Harry had slept really well. Even now he still felt warm and content. He wouldn’t mind curling right back up in the still warm blankets and going right back to sleep. But with how much E.J liked keeping a strict schedule, the best chance Harry would have at getting some more sleep would be slipping into his wardrobe sometime during the day. 

Harry grumbled as he forced himself up and off of the bed. E.J shot a glance towards him, the man’s gaze softened behind his mask at the sleep rumpled sight his boy made. 

Harry wasted no time in trotting over to the man, giving him a quick hug around the legs, his face pressing into E.J’s hip, before he made his way to the bathroom.

With that business taken care of, Harry left the room, not bothering to change out of his clothes from yesterday. 

Making his way to the main living room, Harry flopped down onto the nearest couch and curled up comfortably to doze off. If he didn’t actually fall asleep, E.J couldn’t tell him off. 

So, with that in mind, Harry curled up on one of the oversized couch cushions. It was warm enough in the room that he didn’t feel like he needed a blanket to get cozy. And even if it was cold enough for him to get a blanket, Harry wouldn’t anyway because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake. 

Warmth always made him sleepy, and this early in the morning there was no way that Harry wouldn’t knock right out on the spot. 

So, he laid there and dozed, his head pillowed on his arms, and his eyes at half mast. 

It was always hard to tell dreams from reality when he was half asleep. Sometimes, if someone had asked him to do something when he was dozing, he would dream that he had already done it, but then he would wake up and realize that he hadn’t done anything. It was a weird state to wake up in. 

Wriggling up against the backrest of the couch, Harry squished himself in between the couch cushions and the couches backrest. It was a nice snug crevice, warm and tight around him in a wonderful way. Harry snuffled happily and settled in for a nice not-nap. 

Half an hour later, Harry had managed to cram himself deeper in between the cushions and backboard, hiding himself completely inside of the couch, with the exception of his nose, which was sticking out from between the cushions, allowing him to breathe in the cool morning air. 

The inside of the couch was harder than the actual couch, but it was warmer and less open, which was much more comfortable than laying out in the open on the surface of the couch. So Harry definitely didn’t mind laying there.

This wasn’t even Harry’s first time doing this. In between the couch cushions was the perfect place for hiding random things. Harry often found himself shoving random items under them for short term keeping. 

The remote caused the most fuss when it inevitably slipped between the cushions, and nobody wanted to look. The straight up brawls that came with the tv remote going missing were almost comical in their violence. Bones had been snapped, skin torn and hair pulled in fights over the remote. For a house full of relatively smart people, not doing the obvious thing; looking under and inside the couch, the less mature residents obviously enjoyed catastrophizing and causing havoc, instead of looking for things normally. 

Harry yawned widely, causing his jaw to crack and his biggest canines glinting in the low light. He was nice and warm, dozing off so comfortably that he barely noticed when someone walked into the room. Aside from assuming that it was someone familiar. 

Without warning, someone sat down heavily right on top of him. Harry let out a dog-like yelp as the man who had sat on him jumped up and let out a curse. 

Harry wriggled out from his hidey hole, glaring darkly at Mr. Snape, who on his part, looked completely gobsmacked that the resident feral child had popped out from inside a couch without warning.

“You sat on me!” Harry hissed, ears going back, his glare not letting up. 

The man just stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide, before he seemed to shape himself out of his stupor. 

“I am… sorry for sitting on you?” Snape replied, his tone unsure and the look on his face even more so, “I didn’t know that the inside of the couch was somewhere you frequented.”

“I will bite you!” Harry exclaimed, rolling over the cushions to land upright on the floor. He stood in front of the man with his hands on his hips, and a glare still on his face. 

“Please don’t” Snape responded, “your teeth look like they could do quite a bit of damage,”

“My teeth can do a lot of damage even when they’re normal!” Harry bit out, baring his teeth. 

“I didn’t say that they couldn’t.” Snape replied, his face and stance shifting into something more relaxed now that he was faced with a more familiar situation. 

A small child being bratty. Ah, the perks of teaching juveniles a dangerous subject.
 

“I’m surprised that you are still transformed” Snape said, shamelessly changing the subject away from what was making the boy angry, “usually it takes quite a bit of energy for someone to keep up a partial transformation, but you seem to be doing just fine.”

That was odd. Magical transformations were one of the more taxing forms of magic. The constant flow of energy that was diverted into the facets of a transformation required a fair bit of energy. The animagus transformation was a more stable form of a transfiguration. Because of how a witch or wizard's animal form was cemented in their very being, it took a lot less energy to maintain over long periods of time. Whereas, a temporary transfiguration took a large amount of magical power to complete the initial transformation and continued to pull a steady stream of magic to maintain itself.  So the fact that a boy was able to keep up a partial transformation overnight without his magical core being drained to the point of magical exhaustion was quite the feat. 

Harry huffed, already over the other man. He knew he should try and get along with the man, especially because said man would be teaching him things about magic eventually. Harry didn’t like him, he didn’t like what the man said whenever he opened his mouth, but he wanted to learn. And oh, did he want to learn. Magic -and did it still feel weird to say or think that word without expecting a beating- was so interesting. He could do so many things with it. It made him feel powerful, and if this wet paper bag of a man could help him achieve more of that feeling, the Harry could learn to put up with him.

“That’s because I’m strong.” He supplied back. The man knew that Harry could hurt him if need be and that was good. “I could do this all day if  I wanted!”

Was he preening? Yes, yes he was. He was strong so why shouldn’t he bask in it?

“That’s good, it means you will be able to do a great many things as you grow.” Snape replied, ignoring the fact that watching a tiny child preen at his own praise pissed him off a bit. That moment reminded him of some of the worst days during his school years. The expression on the boy's face reminded him quite a bit of the boy's father. But he shook it off. This was not James Potter standing in front of him. This was Harry, a boy who had been neglected and abused until he broke, a boy with scars on his skin and rage in his eyes. This boy who would not hesitate to kill you if he was threatened, would not hesitate to kill for you, was not his immature bully of a father.

James Potter would be horrified by what his son had become. The boy was the opposite of everything that tepee man had fought to become and maintain. But Severus couldn’t help but think of himself as a child. If Tobias had been just a bit worse? If his mother had died when he was just a bit younger? Would he have become what he saw standing before him? Would he have been there to welcome the boy home when he was first broken? 

It wasn’t good to dwell on ifs and buts, but sometimes… sometimes it was inevitable. 

“I know! E.J is already saying that I’m getting better! I was reading some of the books that Slendy got me and I can do so many of the spells in them. I still can’t do most of them, but I’m getting better!” The boy said, switching seamlessly from a portly sullenness to an excitement filled little boy who was proud of himself. 

“That’s good, it means you have a good foundation to start with when I start teaching you.” Severus replied, Jared a bit from the intense switch of emotions. Why couldn’t children just pick one emotion and stick with it? “Would you mind showing me a few?” 

And that’s how E.J found them, Harry huddled next to the black clad, cradling a ball of soft violet light in his cupped hands as he smiled upwards at the adult and the man staring at the boy with the softest expression of awe spread across his sharp features.

Chapter Text

Something was coming, something with the potential to be cataclysmic.

They could feel it, even if they couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He had noticed the assessing gazes that had been being passed around, the whispered conversations. It had never happened in the manor, all of his proxies had been the way they were before they had become his in name. They wouldn’t know the feeling. The bubbling otherness in the air that made everything seem to stand still, even when going through the motions of life. The man himself didn’t seem to know what was going to happen to him and when others interacted with him they couldn’t put their finger on the feeling that was permeating through the air. Maybe they thought it was because he was human, maybe they thought it was because of his species. Wizards weren’t common knowledge here and the only one they had ever interacted with knowingly was one that had already switched from a wizard to something… more. 

And while the boy had seemed to keep his abilities, his magic, when the change had come, undeniably, the boy was no longer what he was born as. He was Slenderman’s. His to use, his to keep, his to cherish.

And he was curious. The man was still human, his heart still beat a drum against his concave chest and he still breathed. Purely, undeniably human. But the change was coming. He had sensed it that day in the man’s ramshackle home and he had sensed it everyday since. It wasn't hard, anyone with even a touch of the senses that he had would know at first glance. He needed those senses, they made him who he was. Giving him the ability to know where and when he would be needed to collect another one of his children. 

It was strange, the feeling he had received that day when the killer had brought home a youngling. He hadn’t known, hadn’t a clue that another would be joining. It rankled at him to be unseeing when he had foreseen the turning and arrival of everyone of his children. He hadn’t seen. 

It was his duty to see, to know, but something had hidden the boy from him. A fog that was still pulling at his senses when the boy was presented to him. In the same room, but still hidden. The feeling had disappeared though, he had made sure of it. He didn’t like it when his things were hidden from him. 

But the man was unbidden. Like all others he had sat in the back of his vast mind. It was not often that one of the many became one of the few, but it was even less likely for one to be connected to the otherside in another way. This man was. He had come into this plane for the sole reason of seeing a boy, and now he would not leave without being a part of something bigger. Something better. 

Maybe he would burn out. Something that many before him had done when the time came. Lose himself to the rage and hatred that became him when the dark took over. But maybe, maybe he would continue on as something else.

It was only when a trigger presented itself that it would come to fruition.

It was only a matter of time.

-

It was clear that while the human staying with them had some idea of the atrocities that were constantly being committed in the room over from him, he had no real idea about what was happening in the manor or what they did. 

He obviously knew that Harry Potter was a murderer, having seen first hand what the boy had done when he saw him in that grove of trees that night when his locating potion had finally worked. But he fooled himself with inane excuses. Surely there had to have been a reason for the man’s death. Maybe he had threatened Harry and the boy had acted in self defense, or maybe, it hadn’t even been the boy that killed him and he was only dragging around the body for some other reason that wasn’t getting rid of the evidence. 

That wasn’t even all of what he didn’t know or was ignoring. He couldn’t tell that the meat served for dinner, set nicely on white ceramic plates in front of Potter and the blue masked, black haired man that had become some sort of guardian to the boy, was anything other than rarely cooked beef. 

When he had gone outside to survey the locations native grown plants, the pile of squishy bits and half rotted bits of food was just an overgrown compost pile in his eyes. It wasn’t strange, he himself had a modest compost pile that he used to fertilize the soil for some of the herbs and plants he needed for brewing.  

He never felt the need to get close enough to see the dismembered body parts that made up the pile, or identify the scent of putrid rotting flesh. 

Suspicious staining on the floorboards and walls were explained away by the age of the manor and the messiness of the residents. Maybe he was being purposely blind, keeping the wool over his eyes to avoid facing the reality of the situation. He knew vaguely about what Slenderman did, how the being collected murderers into his fold and let them loose on the world. But he didn’t want to see, didn’t want to admit to what he had willingly walked into. 

It wouldn’t matter though, if he saw or not. It wouldn’t change the inevitable. 

He would see. He would know.

-

There was a body leaned up against the wall outside of his room.

It was a girl, no older than fifteen, with light hair and dark, empty eyes. 

Severus gagged, his hand flying to his mouth as he braced himself against the doorframe. 

Her arms were laid limp against her sides and her legs resting straight out in front of her. She would look peaceful, if not for the fact that the space under her nose was an empty bloody pit. Her jaw had been torn off, stands of muscle sinews hanging out of ragged flesh. The top row of teeth in her mouth was fully visible, even though the bottom row was nowhere to be seen. Blood was leaking down her front staining her chest red, with no shirt to soak it up. What was left of said shirt was a few strips around her waist and the sleeves still wrapped around her shoulders. Her long hair covered her bare breasts, deep crimson covering the rest of her skin with tacky wetness. 

He couldn’t breathe. Someone had ripped this girl's jaw off, the trail of blood on the floor showing how she had been dragged across the wooden floor boards and propped up like a doll. It was a sheer disregard of human life. 

Something else caught his eye as he struggled to keep the contents of his stomach within his stomach. He hadn’t been able to see it under the amount of blood the past was soaked into everything. The girl's hair, clumped together with and hidden under blood, was a soft red. Herhair was a tangled mess, chunks missing and knots littered throughout, but it was red. Undoubtedly a soft shiny red. 

He threw up.

Bile splattered against the floorboards, mixing with the blood that was slowly drying on the floor. 

“Ew, why’re you throwing up?” A high voice asked, interrupting his spiral. 

Severus whipped his head up, looking at the boy in horror. He didn’t want Potter to see this, he couldn’t let Potter see this. He flung himself forward, moving fast as he flung his hand over the boy's eyes and moved to clutch the boy against himself. 

The small body tensed against him for a moment, but when nothing else seemed to happen he relaxed a bit, even though his eyes were being covered. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” Harry asked, shifting slightly, trying to look up at the man even when he couldn’t see. 

“You didn’t see, did you?” Severus asked, his voice hysterically and his mouth tasting of bile. “You didn’t see her, did you?”

“The girl?” Harry replied, sounding confused.

Severus felt the air whoosh from his lungs. The boy had seen the body, Severus hadn’t been able to shield his eyes fast enough. 

“What are you freaking out about?” Harry asked, trying to wriggle free, his voice muffled against fabric, “and can ya’ let me go?”

“No, no, you don’t need to see that. You need to get someone, please go get someone.” The hysteria was rising.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What do you mean what’s wrong? You saw her right?!” His eyes were wild and his chest was heaving. He pushed the boy away from his body, making sure to shield the scene behind him with his body while he held the boy by his shoulders. Potter looked unconcerned, his eyes bright as normal and-

Blood. There was so much blood. 

It was caked against the bottom of the boy's face, speckled against his skin  and smeared down his neck. His shirt was stuck to his skin with blood, clinging to his chest. And his hands, oh his hands were completely covered in it. Not a single patch of pale skin was unmarred with red. The color clung to the boy, his outline going fuzzy as Severus fought to breathe. 

“You-“ the colors were blurring, “-you did this?”

He wouldn’t, couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Even when it was right in front of him, he could barely bring himself to believe what it was he was seeing. He had seen the boy with a body before, but it was different, something was different. He knew now that there was no way that this had even self defense, knew that there could be no moral reason for the dead girl sitting against the wall behind him. 

There was blood around the boy's mouth, there was a jagged hole in the girl's face. Pieces were clicking and he wished that he could shove them right back in the box. 

He had killed people before. When he was young and dumb, pressured into a cult and made to kill. He hadn’t liked it, but he hadn’t disliked it either. He just didn’t care. He had never been cruel with it, never prolonged a death or stooped to torture. It was always a quick flash of green or a cutting curse to an artery. 

But this was brutality for the sake of brutality.

“Yeah, why?” 

It was said so blaise, so nonchalantly. Like it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t matter to the boy. It mattered to Severus though. He threw up again. 

He hunched over as heaves gripped his diaphragm, his hands clinging to the front of his robes. Robes that now had blood on them from where he pressed Potter against them. Blood that was now on his hands. 

He gagged again, more bile splattering against the floor. 

“You killed her-“ he gurgled wetly. “She had red hair and you killed her.” 

“What does that mean?” The boy asked, not looking at all concerned by how Severus was reacting. The man had seen him with a body before, and he had been living in the manor for almost two months now, so there was no way this was the first time he had seen someone all bloody. And even if he hadn’t, it was only a body, why was he freaking out about this. He was an adult, he should already know what was happening. And why did it matter if the girl had red hair? Harry was only dragging the body this way to get it to Sally’s room, and he just had to double back real quick to stuff some snacks into his pockets. Sally didn’t like it when he ate from body’s in front of her but she didn’t mind it if he brought real snacks for her to eat. They were gonna have a tea party and Harry just happened to have a pretty fresh corpse. 

It wasn’t as fresh as normal, but ever since he had had that accident with his animagus form, it had become easier and easier to eat spoiled meat, so he didn’t mind the older corpses. 

But he had come back to the hallway to see the new man freaking out like he had never seen a body before. And he was throwing up everywhere, gross. 

“Lily had red hair, she had red hair” 

Harry didn’t know who that was, even if the name niggled at something in the back of his mind. 

It was too much. He couldn’t breathe. The pressure in his head was building and building, pressing up against the inside of his skull and pushing. Everything was too hot, colors were blurring together, words forming on the tip of his tongue before they fizzled out. Nothing was right and everything was stretching, warping against reality.

He snapped.

Chapter Text

The thing on the floor was screaming.

Writhing and screaming as its skin morphed and shifted. 

Harry startled when Snape had fallen to the floor and began to wail. He hadn’t been expecting it. The human man was always so quiet, so withdrawn into himself. So, this was odd, very odd. 

It wasn’t that alarming though. Harry was used to screaming. It was basically a part of his daily life at this point. Either Harry was causing it or someone else was. Even today there had been screaming, some boy that Masky had dragged in from wherever that would not shut up. Well, wouldn’t shut up until he got a hammer to the head. 

The wailing sounded like pain. The notes filled with guilt and mourning and agony. Harry, who had stepped back when the man first dropped, stepped forward again to look at the man curiously. He didn’t know what was happening, but it was interesting to watch. 

Arms and legs flailed, twitching and spasming against the wooden floor boards. Sweat dripped down the man’s brows and coated his face. The fabric of his robes was tangling with his limbs. The man’s limbs were shifting, seeming contorting into positions that wouldn’t be possible for a human. It looked like agony. He supposed he should be worried. This obviously wasn’t normal, writhing and screaming usually came after Harry got his hands on them. This was odd. 

Harry tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed, before he cried out and slammed his hands over his ears. Static filled the air, slamming into his senses like a blow to the head. It hurt, it hurt so bad. Harry had never felt pain like this before. It dug into his bones all the way to the marrow. It hit him between the eyes like a migraine, pulsing and stabbing at anything it could reach.

He might have been crying, or he might have been screaming. He might not have been doing anything at all. His eyes hurt in their sockets, pulsing and rolling. Blood welled up around their waterline, dripping down his face like a parody of tears. His nose began dripping the same red as his eyes, the blood pooling in his cupid's brow, before running over his lips and teeth. He didn’t like this. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breath, he couldn’t stop screaming.

He was dying. He was dying and there was nothing he could do about it, nobody to save him. He was screaming, screaming, screaming. 

One of his arms was almost yanked out of its socket when he was grabbed by the forearm and yanked harshly against a body. He couldn’t even do anything about the harsh treatment. All he could do was scream and pray that the pain would stop.

Through red tinted vision he could vaguely make out the image of a tall, pale man, before he passed out.

-

There was a child in front of him. A child wailing and writhing against a dirty floor.

It was happening now, the rebirth. Biology changing, lifespan expanding, powers morphing and coming together into something wholly unique. Snapped and rebuilt the tether was, snapped and reformed into something better. Skin shifting and mind bending. It was a beautiful thing to watch. 

He had never been this close to any of his proxies when they had become his before. But this one was changing history. Here he was, in his own domain, watching as a child took its first steps. 

One of his was crying out behind him, screams matching in octave with the child’s wails. He didn’t like hurting the children, though it was inevitable. He couldn’t rein in his power at times like this. Had to let the child absorb what he could, feed off of the energy. He would have to do something for the young one at some point, find a way to apologize for the distress he was causing. But he had to focus on the baby right now. The newborn in front of him, he had to help it thrive, helps its little heart beat and its little underdeveloped lungs take in air. 

Oh yes, such a strong child, kicking and screaming its way into the world.

The younger stopped screaming then, when everything became too much and his mind and body could no longer take it. He was being dragged away now, cradled against the chest of another one of his children. Such a brave child he was, braving the agony to assist his baby. Such strong brave children he had. They would survive no doubt, he would never let them fall if he could help it. 

And, oh, there were wings, beautiful, beautiful wings, splaying out against the floor. Blue and grey they were, mangy, tattered feathers spreading out against the floor, framing the child between them and the screaming filled even more so with the sound of guilt, betrayal and mourning. Oh, a fallen angel this one was. Regretful and mourning, a good mix. Feathers speckled exposed skin, little streaks of blue-grey that contrasted nicely with the boy's sallow skin. Talons sprouted from this finger tip, leaving gouges in any floor boards that they came into contact with. They sprouted from his toes as well, stabbing through his shoes and leaving them ruined. Oh, this boy would be a good one, a dangerous one. And with his magic abilities on top of these new ones, he would be a force to be reckoned with. 

Oh, well, if he could get past those pesky morals of his. It was always so silly to watch them struggle with their new instincts and existing moral codes. It would be easier if they would just give in. Hoodie had been one of the harder ones to convert. He struggled against the thrall of immortality, until he was dragged kicking and screaming into this new world.

The man still held a grudge, but at this point, he had long accepted what he had become, what he was. And he was a killer and a killer he would remain. The bond he and Masky had formed over their descent into madness had withstood decades. They were his first children, his prodigal sons. They were his proof, proof that he could break through what made a human, human. It was right, it was good. 

His newest child was guilt filled and mourning, stuck in a stasis, never moving on. But that would change, sooner or later, it would change. 

The screaming was slowing now, morphing from blood curdling screams to gasping sobs. It was ending now, the transformation. And the results were wonderful. The being on the floor was horrific. Laying on his back, wings askew and talons digging into the floor. An already prominent nose had grown even more, morphing into a massive beak that took up almost half of his face. Starting at the top of his nose and ending at his chin. It was massive, a shoebill stork if a Slenderman had to guess. A pale salmon color and curved into a wicked point at the tip. Feathers were weaved into dark hair, pale colors striking vividly against the darkness. 

He was moaning through his beak, the sound rattled and distorted through it. He sounded haunting.

Slenderman knew this one would survive now. He had undergone the transformation and had lived to see the other side. He would continue to live on, especially now that he was no longer a mortal. The proxy could choose what he would do with it, but he would continue on. 

The tall being straightened up, straightening his ties as he looked down at his newest child. He could leave now, the change was done, and he knew that the boy would seek him out eventually. He was the type to need to know what was going on. It was only a matter of time until he was sought out. 

So, he left. Shadows curling up around him, dragging him backwards into them. Tendrils hissed and shrieked, twinning around his limbs as he faded from view. Static blared one last time, abruptly leaving the hallway in hollow silence, aside from the pained sounds being emitted from the man on the floor. 

-

Everything was suffering.

His body was on fire. Every pore, every strand of hair, was in agony. Something was wrong, everything was wrong. There was a dead body on the floor and he was dying right alongside her. He didn’t understand. 

Pain stabbed through the tips of his finger, the mains and skin splitting to make room for new growth. His shoulders felt like they were bubbling. He had spilt a boiling cauldron over his hands once. It was a stupid mistake that could have been prevented, but it had happened nonetheless. His skin had blistered and peeled everywhere that the potion had managed to reach. This felt like that, but somehow so much worse. He had been under the cruciatus curse before, numerous times over the years he spent serving his former lord, but it had never managed to hurt him like this. Never. 

There was someone there with him. Or was there, he couldn’t remember. Someone was screaming, wailing at the top of their lungs without pausing to breathe. Maybe it was him, he wouldn’t be surprised. His ears were being stuffed full of unwanted sounds, screams and static mixing together to create some unholy symphony. It hurt, it hurt so much, and when he didn’t think he could take anymore, that it couldn’t get any worse for him then this, it did.

Something exploded out of his back. Thudding against the floor and writhing right there along with him. At the same time, something burst out of his face as well, leaving him to bang his head against the floor, trying to stop everything. 

Why couldn’t he just die? Why did he have to continue in this world just to suffer? He deserved it, he knew that. Deserved every bad thing that had ever happened to him, but he didn’t think he deserved this. He was trying to be better, he was trying so goddamned hard.

The sound of his screams changed as the pain in his face bloomed. High pitched shrieks changing in pitch. They sounded hollow now, he was hollow now. 

As fast as the pain had come, it left. 

His arched body fell slack as soon as it was able, thudding against the floor as his muscles released the tension they were holding. He was sobbing still, unable to catch his breath. But he wasn’t in pain. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he laid there on the floor. He didn’t even attempt to move, didn’t think he could even if he tried. 

Something soft twitched against his arms, sending twinges throughout his back. He could stand up, but he managed to turn his head to look at what was brushing against his arms. It took him a minute to comprehend what he was seeing. Bird wings, giant tattered bird wings. He didn’t understand what he was seeing. He laid there and he stared. 

Breathing deeply, slowly drawing air into his chest and releasing it just as slowly. He just breathed for a moment, or a few moments, he couldn’t tell. Time was irrelevant right now.

Footsteps sounded quietly at some point. Severus couldn’t bring himself to look up.

“Oh.” A pause, “oh, you are beautiful.”

It was said so reverently.

The wings twitched in surprise at the tone and voice. How did he know it was surprise. He shouldn’t know that. His arm twitched with the need to reach out and run his fingers over the feathers. Surprisingly, his arm listened. He reached over, his arm trembling. He froze as his fingers came in contact with downy feathers. He could feel the touch through the feathers, the sensation traveling up the wings and connecting at his shoulders. That surprised it, but it’s not what made him freeze. 

There were talons protruding from his fingertips. Long, bloody talons. Those were his wings weren’t they? He let out a sound of surprise. It didn’t come out sounding like it should. His face was heavy. Beak, there was a beak on his face. Oh, here comes the panic. 

“None of that, up you get.” The voice said, its tone chastening.

 He was hoisted to his feet, the world spinning around him as one of his arms was thrown around someone's shoulders. His wings dropped down his back, the tips dragging on the floor as he was herded down the hall. His feet dragged right there along with them, and he stumbled more than once. He didn’t know how long they walked for, he could barely focus on putting one foot in front of the other. He barely comprehended being trundled through a door, he only noticed because the floor changed from cold wood to a soft plush carpet. 

He was tossed onto a bed, wheezing as he bounced against it. It was soft, so soft against his skin. He couldn’t help the way he curled up against its surface, trying to get as close as possible to the comfort it was providing. He was curled up on his front, head tilted sideways against the bed because that was the only way it could lay if he was on his front. There was a beak there now, long and a muted salmon color. But he couldn’t think about that now. He was tired and the bed was soft. Everything was soft and floaty now. The edges of his vision were fading out, greying at the edges. 

Someone else was in the bed. A small body and closed eyes crusted with blood. He should be alarmed. He should be bolting upright and demanding to know what was going on. But he was so tired. He couldn’t help the croon that bubbled up out of his throat, the urge to grab the child and huddle them close to his chest was strong. He did so, reaching out an arm and grabbing a smaller one in his hand. He crooned in response to a warning noise that came from above him, blurry eyes darting upwards to concede his intent to harm. 

He tugged the boy close to him, wincing at how the movement sent pain through his muscles. But he didn’t stop until the small body was huddled underneath his chest and he could hover his wings over him. He wrapped grey feathers around the child, using them as a blanket for himself and the boy. 

He didn’t know what was happening, but his vision was hazy and his body was warming. He was keeping the hatchling safe and someone was watching over them both. It was safe here, no predators here to attack him while he was vulnerable. 

He could sleep now.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up feeling like shit. 

His eyes were crusted shut, his mouth tasted like death and he ached all over. 

He was warm and comfortable though. Bundled up in someone’s arms, cradled against a firm chest. He didn’t want to get up, but then again, he never wanted to get up when he was comfortable. Waking up was an inevitable horror of existence, and Harry hated every minute of it. 

He groaned, breathing in deeply before stopping. Blood, he could smell blood. That wasn’t that unusual, but he couldn’t remember what he had been doing before. It probably had involved blood, to be honest, but it smelled wrong somehow. The smell was tinged with a sour fear scent that made him wrinkle his nose. He wriggled a bit in the grip that held him, trying to get free, but he was plucked up from under his arms before he could try much harder. 

The touch was familiar, so he didn’t struggle much. He scrunched up his face and kicked his legs a bit but that was it. Dried blood framed against his face as his expression wrinkled his skin. He was pulled against someone’s chest, and Harry preened at the contact. He couldn’t open his eyes but he was familiar enough with the touch to know who it was. 

E.J tucked the boy's head underneath his chin as Harry wrapped his arms around the man’s neck. E.J sat down, lowering himself carefully into his chair so as to not disturb the boy in his arms. Harry whined in his throat as he was pushed back enough for the man to look at his face. E.J sighed as he gazed down at his boy's face. He was covered in blood. The parody of tear tracks that dripped lazily down his cheeks and the blood that leaked from his nose had dried on his face and left it a mess. Along with the blood on his hands, mouth and chest, he was painted the coppery brown of dried blood. 

He looked rugged and worn, he felt rugged and worn, like his head had been flipped inside out and then flipped right side in. Veins were prominent on his face, delicately spider webbing underneath his thin eyelids. Harry let his eyes flutter closed again, his head falling back against E.J’s chest once his neck had decided that it didn’t want to hold him anymore. A hand stroked his curls, nimble fingers carding through the strands, and Harry brought his feet upwards to curl underneath his body.

Sleep claimed him again.

-

“What happened?” Was the first thing he asked when he woke up again, his jaw cracking as he yawned. 

He was still curled up in E.J’s lap, one cheek creased from the imprint of the man’s shirt. He felt more refreshed now, energy was once again filling his flesh.

“We have a new member, Severus has joined the Proxies.” The man replied, gesturing to the man laying on the bed with a gloved hand. Harry turned luminous eyes towards the bed, curiously taking in the figure that was draped artfully over the covers.

“Birdie!” Harry exclaimed.

It was only E.J’s hands grabbing his waist as he was mid air that kept him from pouncing. He crashed face first onto the foot of the bed, his lower half kept in the air by E.J’s grip. 

“Aw, c’mom!” Harry pouted, lifting his face from where it was smushed against the duvet.

“You cannot eat him Harry, it’s Severus.” The man chastised, continuing to hold Harry up by his legs. 

“So? He’s a bird, that means he’s fair game now!” Harry argued back, lifting himself onto his hands to try and pull his floating body towards Snape’s feathered body.

E.J, showing a distinct lack of care towards his wellbeing, pulled Harry away without effort. Betrayal!

“You’re depriving me of my enrichment!” Harry yowled as his chin hit the edge of the bed and he was pulled to the floor. He hit the carpet with a thump, squirming around, trying to free his legs from E.J’s evil grip. 

E.J let go of his legs, but only so that he could flip him over onto his back with a foot and then brace said foot gently on Harry’s chest to keep him from getting back up and lunging right back at the unconscious man on the bed. 

Harry scrabbled at the foot holding him to the floor, growling. E.J sighed long sufferingly. 

“What if I get you a pumpkin filled with meat? Would you calm down then?” 

Harry paused his clawing at E.J’s calf, looking up at the man with furrowed brows, “why the fuck would I want a meat pumpkin?”

“I don’t know, tigers supposedly like them and a hyena is basically the same thing.”

“That’s better than comparing me to a dog at least,” Harry sniffed, “but pumpkins are gross, they get all green and squishy.” 

“It was worth a try.” E.J said, removing his foot from Harry’s chest when he stopped squirming, “can you please just leave him alone? There are plenty of other birds literally everywhere that you can get your teeth on.”

Harry grumbled for a moment before he conceded. E.J plucked him up from the floor by his underarms and perched him on his hip. Harry tilted his head to rest it on the crown of the man’s shoulder, his hair falling into his eye and his cheek squished as he looked at Snape. 

“Why does he look like that? Is that his animated form?” Harry asked, his voice stuttering a bit over the pronunciation of ‘animagus’, his voice skipping, “like how I’m a hyena, he’s a bird?” 

E.J hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat, “I don’t think so. Remember how you got your chains when you were smaller? How you became one of us? It was his turn and this is what fate decreed that he would be. Like how Sally is a specter and L.J is a clown. We change when we snap. We become one of Slenderman’s children. I used to look human, was human, we all used to be, just like you were, but now we’re something else entirely.” 

“So he’s like us? All the way?” Harry asked, his tone curious. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, that explains why Mr. Snape is a bird, but why is there blood under my eyes and why can’t I remember going to sleep? Harry asked, turning to look up at E.J as he rubbed at the flaking blood under his eyes. It was making his face itch, his eyes too.  He knew where the blood around his mouth had come from, and the blood on his chest, but he couldn’t remember getting blood so close to his eyes. When he tried to remember, all his mind could conjure up was a brief impression of pain and then nothing. 

E.J sighed again, “The blood is because of Slenderman. From what I could gather, Severus saw you with the dead girl, and it upset him enough to trigger the snap. It had been building up for a while, something in the air was telling us that something was coming and it seemed that it was anticipating this. The body kickstarted it for some reason and Slenderman came when he started changing.”

He looked into Harry’s eyes, black meeting green, “You haven’t seen this yet but Slenderman is dangerous. If he was so inclined, he could kill everyone in the manor without blinking.” 

Harry considered E.J’s words; comparing them against the feelings that he got every time the tentacled man was near. Fight or flight, and Harry always chose to fight. There was something about Slenderman, something primal that sent all of Harry’s instincts blaring. Something in his hind brain wanted to submit to Slenderman, to bare his throat and whimper.

But he had been powerless at the hands of another before, bowing to the whims of his aunt and uncle without protest. He wouldn’t let someone control him like that again. 

“He’s powerful and one of the things that makes him so powerful is his aura. He can control it, reign it in until it’s nothing except a slight buzz against your subconscious, but other times… When he lets it free, it causes pain, agony really. We are his children, it can’t kill us but it can harm us.” E.J continued, once again running his gloved hand through black strands, “when Severus started changing, Slenderman came and he just… let his power out into the air.”

“I was screaming, I think,” Harry said after a moment of silence, his brows furrowed as he tried to remember, “and my eyes were bleeding, that’s where all the blood came from.” 

“That’s where some of the blood came from.” E.J chuckled. 

“Do… you think that he meant to hurt me?” Harry asked, his voice small.

“I don’t think so, you haven’t done anything that would warrant his attention. I think you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

That was okay. Harry was still going to be upset about it. When Puppeteer had hurt him almost two years ago, Harry had bayed for blood even when the man hadn’t meant to hurt him. But this time, it wasn’t like Harry could just attack Slenderman. So, he would hold a grudge instead. 

There was a groan from the bed, followed by the sound of rustling feathers and Harry was once again tempted to leap for the moving wings. The yearning must have shown on his face because E.J tightened his grip on him. 

Mr. Snape sat up, wings falling like a cape behind him. Now that the man was sitting up, Harry could clearly see the massive beak that took up most of the man’s face. 

Harry might not be part hyena right now, having learned how to fold away his animal features, but he really wanted to chew on that beak. Really, really badly. Stupid E.J telling him he couldn’t chew on Mr. Snape.

The man croaked, the sound echoing strangely against the hollow insides of his beak. The man’s eyes were hazy, until they cleared abruptly, going crossed as they peered down at the keratin that had replaced his nose. And then the man’s panic set in. 

The man’s wings started thrashing, beating hard against the bed's backboard, his talon tipped hands pawing at his face, his eyes wide, the black iris ringed with a sickly yellow band. The sounds that were coming from the man were haunting, a wailing croon that raised the hair on the back of Harry’s neck. If his ears had been out they would have been pressed flat to the crown of his head. 

Harry was being gently deposited on the bed in the blink of an eye and then E.J was moving to sit sideways on the edge of the bed in front of Mr. Snape.

Harry stared as E.J muttered soothing words to the winged man, his eyebrows raising slowly as he watched. Why was his da-E.J being nice to Mr. Snape? Also, why was Mr. Snape in E.J’s bed? Harry hadn’t realized it before, too distracted with talking to the man to realize that Mr. Snape was here and not in his own room. It was weird, E.J didn’t let anyone else but Harry into his room, and that was how Harry liked it. 

He narrowed his eyes. Mr. Snape better not get any weird ideas or E.J wasn’t going to be able to hold Harry back from eating him. He hadn’t even been trying to get free earlier, if he had wanted to he could have slipped out of E.J’s grasp as easily as breathing. Nothing would keep Mr. Snape safe if he started trying to be close to Harry’s E.J. 

E.J kept muttering gentle things, Mr. Snapes weird eyes trained on his mask, his sallow face paler than usual, almost grey really. 

Speaking of grey, E.J was distracted by the other man and he wouldn’t notice if Harry crept towards one of the grey wings that rested near the head of the bed. 

He slid quietly off of the opposite side of the bed as E.J, making sure his feet didn’t make a sound against the floor. He crept forwards, his eyes darting between E.J and his goal. And then he was close enough to skim his fingers over the massive flight feathers at the tip of one of the wings. He tested the water, running a finger over one of the feathers, watching for any reaction from Mr. Snape. When there wasn’t one, Harry got braver. 

He wrapped a hand around one of the feathers, feeling the softness against his palm. The wing twitched erratically every few seconds, not enough to dislodge Harry’s grip but enough to make him pause for a second to make sure E.J wasn’t looking. The wings were pretty, the feathers tattered and beaten but pretty nonetheless. He really wanted one of those feathers. 

He braced his feet against the ground and made sure his grip on one of the bigger feathers was secure. He aimed his body towards the door, angling himself for the prime takeoff and then he pulled. 

With a sharp tug, the feather popped loose and Harry was off like a shot. There was a muffled exclamation behind him but Harry paid no attention to it as he darted to the door, tugging it open and running into the hallway. 

He continued running towards his room, hopping up a flight of stairs and pulling his own door open, prize clutched on his small hand. He skipped to his wardrobe, opening the door and moving to set the feather near his other treasures. He nestled it upright in one corner, bracing it straight with a few stale candies. He smiled at the feather where it was surrounded by his other treasures before he skipped towards the nearest bathroom. He really wanted to get the itchy dried blood off of his face.