The Apprentice

The wealth of his victory streak wasn't realised until it rested between his fingers in a crystal wine glass.

The third course of the evening had finished, dessert was to come. The atmosphere was jovial. Conversation was dark, but mostly small talk. An easy-going time. No followers to punish and make an example of. He almost missed it.

Lucius, sitting to his left, produced success after success. A man he could trust to keep things moving should he have to disappear for a while. Malfoy kept things orderly amongst his followers. The man's connections proved valuable too.

His eye watched a mop of shiny black hair at the furthest end of the table. Severus was listening disinterestedly to his neighbours. A valuable recruit. Eager to serve but cunning enough to succeed.

Dessert appeared before the table. His death eaters gladly tucked in. A muggle family of four levitated above. He was looking forward to releasing the magic and watch the nooses serve their part.

The mother crock through her cloth gag. Her face still dribbling tears. Probably because Greyback was finishing up the baby's leg. To think another baby, maybe a few months older lived in complete ignorance of his existence. Oblivious to what he planned.

He knew the best course of action where the prophecy was concerned. Kill the thing before it can kill you. What would his prophesied vanquisher do? Cry for its mother, stare vacantly, mumble. He was intent on ending it quick. Partly because it gave chance less time to act, but mostly because he hated infants. His exposure at Wools was more than enough. Children need a bit of magic in them before they become likable. Even so, few were endearing.

Snap.

Just like that, his own mind soured the evening.

He sipped the fifty-year-old sauvignon blanc. It did not taste nearly as beautiful as it did five minutes ago. A muggle above gave a hoarse moan. He sent a hex up. The table went dead, conversation abandoned. Everyone motionless for his next move.

"As you were." He hated himself. There was no dignity.

The inquisitive gaze from Bellatrix proved as much. He heard her thinking loud and clear and he hated her because she was right.

Harrison. The most endearing for a long while. Thoughts of the boy had bounced throughout his strategizing like a damn poltergeist. He simply could not shake the boy away. Damned boy, vile and beautiful.

His mind plagued by stupid thoughts. Like the little tuff of hair that always pointed up on the crown of Harrison's head. He wanted to curl it around his fingers and never let go.

He shoved a spoonful of trifle into his mouth before his thoughts got away with him.

How he came to seek children was an odd chain of events. The simple excuse was that heirs had blood. Blood that linked directly back to him. An extremely useful resource for resurrection rituals.

That wasn't the full truth. Otherwise, he would have fucked Bella enough times to create a farm of heirs. No. He actively loathed infants.

It was never about having the children. And all about a deeply rooted expectation for family.

He continued with his dessert not really tasting it. His ear popped in and out of conversation. He was close to yearning for a topic change that would steer his mind away from the black hole that was devouring his thoughts.

No such chance came for him to bite. He was dragged into the pits of memory. Reunited to the lost feeling that plagued his childhood. He knew his mother was dead. He learnt his father would never come. Still, little Tom watched many children run out the gates of Wools Orphanage into the arms of loving parents. It made the orphanage seem that much more of a prison. Yet, in pure spite of all he knew, Tom was certain someone would show up and he'd run out the gate.

It never happened. The best he got was Dumbledore, who told him off and demanded an apology letter. And frankly, had the then transfiguration teacher knew what it felt like to live in Wools. He would have shown some sympathy. Schools aren't families. When you leave, you're not welcome back. The teachers forget you and when you cross paths, it becomes clear they never cared.

After meeting his father, he knew parents weren't going to happen for him. So, from sheer childish desire, he decided to make his own. A family that would only be found with sons. Intelligent boys worthy of his blood and mentorship.

But just two. Which might be one too many. As a man who intentionally killed children to punish their parents, he knew sons were a vulnerability.

Dessert finished without his notice. Conversation died down. The quiet helped suppress the feelings that had descended on him.

He looked across the table, ensuring all were listening. "Well my friends, it has been a lovely evening. Pity it couldn't last longer but it would be rude to keep our hosts in suspense."

His followers smiled at the muggles above. Their nooses were worn like necklaces but not for long.

It took a whip from the wrist to dispel the magic. After a loud crack, the family swung limply. Side to side, like the ticking of a grandfather clock.

With the evening finished on a high, his followers slowly said their goodbyes. Bella decided to stick around. She had the nerve to tell her husband there was she had a private meeting when nothing had been arranged.

He sought refuge from them in the study. Bella quickly followed after him. Simply hearing her footsteps was tiring.

He rested in the armchair by the fire. "Yes, Bellatrix?"

She was polite enough to kneel before him and massage the cold for his toes. "I was worried."

"About what?" He knew but hoped she'd back away from her pursuit. Bella enjoyed picking his mind a little too much.

"Harrison."

It was lucky for Bellatrix that a foot rub was exactly what he wanted at that moment. Perhaps she knew that. "What of him?"

"Well, that was what I was worried about." She had summoned a pan of warm water and was cleaning toe by toe.

He left her to the task. She had not answered his demand, therefore not receive his response. She finished his left foot and began tending to the right.

The feeling was resurrected again. Harrison plagued his mind. He knew it, Bella knew it, practically the whole inner circle knew it. If only he kept the boy secret. Then he could hide the boy. Forever his own, for no one to discover. His past-self was an idiot and flaunted the boy around his followers. Anybody could harm the darkest wizard of the world. All because of Harrison.

"My Lord?"

"What." He sneered at Bella.

She no sign of intimidation. "You've tensed up."

"Forget it."

"My Lord."

"Forget Harrison too." He tried to make himself comfortable but the chair was overly springy and he was surrounded by muggle books. Not to mention the annoying radio in the corner. A noise box for muggles woes and muggle jokes in an empty muggle world. It was quiet now, but for how long…

His mind went back to Harrison. His avada kerdavra bright eyes above that wry, troublesome grin. "Useless boy."

That boy was far more strain than reward. A huge weakness. If the mere thought of him produced so much grief. The boy needed dealing with.

"Did something happen?" Her words always seemed to know what he didn't want to hear.

"Silence."

She massaged him like she was doing the dishes. "He rejected you?"

He scoffed at the idea. "No. He thinks of me as an uncle… Can you believe? Me! In completion with men who haven't done a single thing for him!"

"At least he likes you."

He realised he had given Bella exactly what she was after. His feet retracted from her touch. "Go home, Bellatrix."

"Is uncle really so bad. It shows he looks up to you."

He refused to acknowledge her existence. And yes, it absolutely was unacceptable to regarded as an uncle. Especially when he has done the most for Harrison.

Bella vanished away the pan. She stood, half bowed and slowly walked towards the door. "You could imperius him? Or I could. Doesn't matter."

Naturally, she had to insert some final words that would add no value.

She stopped exiting entirely. "I know! A love potion, but love for a father. I'm certain one exists. Then he'd defiantly regard you better than an uncle."

His face collapsed into his palm. He didn't have the motivation for punishment but if Bella persisted.

"It's finished." Once the words were said, his mind was decided. "The boy is a nuisance. With no appreciation for what I've done. So Leave."

"My Lord, I want you to be happy. Let me…"

"Leave."

She wasn't leaving. "I'll slip a drop into his…"

He threw himself off the chair and lunged at her. If her tiny neck hadn't dodged his grip, it would have been crushed. She fled. He couldn't find the energy to chase her.

If the boy wouldn't choose him, then Harrison would be stolen. His boy for eternity. Nobody in the world would have him.

The ritual was well-practised and the Christmas break would prove convenient timing. He had found his seventh piece. Something which Harrison was an appropriate match for. Once all was said and done, he would forever own the both of them.

His mind found ease. The plan was made. He even felt a little generous. Enough to allow Harrison his last hurrah and attend the Yule ball. After that, his gaping weakness would be fixed.

-~o~-

Harry clung his school robe. He was making way his way for the owl tower. The mixture of winter's breath with the morning's chill flooded the hallways. He longed to be with the rest of Gryffindor, asleep under thick blankets in warm dormitories, but he needed to pack before anyone had a chance intervene.

His plan to leave for the Christmas break was his longest kept secret. The only hint was his absent name on the list of students remaining at Hogwarts. Thanks to the Yule Ball the list was longer than normal, Multiple pages long, and after three years of staying for Christmas people probably assumed he would stay. That was likely why McGonagall hadn't noticed otherwise it would have been brought up.

In the effort of maintaining his secret, the packing was left until the last minute. Harry feared if Ron caught him preparing then another wave of prolonged argument would begin. he wanted to delay that as much as possible.

So Harry woke early, packed his trunk while Neville snored and stowed it away like normal. What Mr Gaunt would think of the state of his trunk wasn't wise to dwell on. It was a hasty job. Harry didn't need a divination class to know it would become a chore in his coming future.

Mr Gaunt's demand for class and tidiness aside, Christmas was looking to be a refreshing beginning for Harry. He hoped It wouldn't be like with the Weasley's, where he felt paperclipped onto a family photo. With Mr Gaunt, it would be a Christmas he could claim as his own. Something only he could have.

Harry made a turn and strode up the owl tower stairs. Hedwig's cage rattled with his hand. A couple of steps before the landing his foot slipped. He almost tumbled down but caught his balance on the railing.

"Cho!" His voice croaked and it was the worst thing. "Didn't see you."

She was standing in the owlery's entrance. "Oh, I was just sent off a letter. You're not hurt, are you?"

Harry shook his head still catching his breath from the fright. "I'm fine, I just didn't expect anyone to be…"

"Are you going away?"

Her question derailed his already muddled thinking. He glanced at his owl cage then realised how it looked. "Kind of… but only for Christmas, obviously."

Cho didn't say anything, only gave a thinking hum. Harry was sure it meant something.

Harry decided to seize the opportunity. Be confident and normal, that's was what Mr Gaunt said and there was no question that he had the attention of many women. "I'm really looking forward to it. With all the tournament stuff, it'd be nice to get away, clear my head and all."

"Cedric's says the same but I think he really misses his family." Cho moved onto the steps.

Harry did his best to make room but the stairs were really meant for one person at a time. "Fair enough, I would."

Cho gave him a mixed looked. "Where are you going this Christmas? After that fight between you and Ron…"

"We're fine now. He was just trying to keep an eye out for me, that's all." Harry gave his best smile, perhaps a bit too forcefully.

"Oh."

He felt his chance slip away.

Cho was beginning to squeeze past but his owl cage was making it tricky. Once she was past him and down a couple of steps, he got a grip on his courage. "Hey?"

She glanced back at him with a fleck of interest in her eye.

It was enough for Harry. "I just wondered if you've got a partner for the Yule Ball?"

Cho's gaze dropped to the floor. "Cedric's asked me. I'm looking forward to it."

"Cool." He didn't know what he was saying, he just did what he imagined Mr Gaunt would do. "How about a dance? As friends, nothing serious. A quick fun dance, you and me."

Cho smile returned. "If Cedric doesn't mind."

"Great."

She continued on her way down the stairs, cheeks slightly blush. Harry took it as complete victory. His heart was racing but his mind had floated into the clouds. So what that Cho Chang was going with Cedric. All that mattered was that she wanted to dance with him. It was a sign, she liked him.

Harry retrieved Hedwig without trouble. He didn't trip on his way back nor did the cold seem to affect him. Despite being in the thick of winter, the colours never looker brighter.

Until, he climbed through the portrait hole. His positivity collided into a wall. Hermione and Ron were by the fire waiting expectantly. Harry played ignorant continuing to his dorm like they weren't there.

"Where the hell are you off to?" Ron followed after him. "I wake up and your trunk is all packed. Now you've got Hedwig in a carry cage."

Without speaking, Harry took the handle of his trunk and began to move back for the stairs. Ron and Hermione block his path.

"Harry, we know you're leaving. It's written down who's staying and your name isn't there." Hermione looked imploringly at him.

"There's no way you'd willingly go to the Dursleys." Ron made a move to grab the other end of Harry's trunk.

Harry dodged him and took the chance to squeeze through the opening in the door.

Hermione hooked his arm with hers. "You going to see Mr Gaunt aren't you?"

"I'll ya Harry! There's a heap of reasons why you shouldn't go." Ron on the doorway. His attitude lost its previous zealous. He sounded like normal Ron which was twice as infuriating.

"Why's that?" Mr Gaunt was a good wizard and Harry was sticking by that.

Hermione looked Harry sternly in the eye. "Because he's a stranger. You don't even know his first name!"

Harry didn't answer.

"And you're willing walking into a situation where you'll be completely alone with him. None of us will know where you are, none will be able to help you." Hermione looked to Ron. He gave an encouraging nod.

Harry's trunk hit the ground with a loud smack. "Mr Gaunt is my friend. Actually, more than that, he's a mentor, parent even! Don't talk to me about Mr Gaunt when you've never sat down and talked with him!"

Ron raised his brows. Hermione huffed. Harry clenched his trunk handle and proceeded towards the train. Behind he heard Hermione say, "He's so self-centred!" To which Harry could imagine Ron slouch as he said, "tell me about it."

Harry practically marched to the carriages. With enough speed in to catch Draco.

"Potter? I thought…" Draco eyes slid from Harry to his trunk.

Harry ignored Flitch's unhelpful assistance and loaded his trunk himself. "This year I have a real wizarding Christmas to go to."

Draco's expression faltered. It was the first time he looked concerned for Harry. It was aggravating. Draco was meant to be different from Ron and Hermione.

"Look, if you want a Wizard Christmas, you can stay with us." Draco hesitantly raised his trunk for Flitch to take.

Harry yanked it off him instead, loading Draco's trunk beside his own. "You don't understand. This isn't going to be someone else's family Christmas. It'll be my own."

The way Draco was watched him made it worse. Eyes transfixed like he was witnessing some horrible tragedy. "That says it all."

Harry climbed off the luggage hold. He was determined to have a good holiday. He strained his excitement, stretching it bigger than it actually was.

"Harry. He's talking to your desire and turning it against you. Do you know what that gives him?" Draco gave room for a reply. The absent answer spoke plenty. He grabbed Harry's arm, forcing Harry's attention. "Control. He gets you, completely all by yourself and exposed. The fact he wants to remove you from Hogwarts is a warning sign."

Harry met Draco's serious stare. "And it's any different with your dad."

Draco twitched. "Say what you like about my father's but at least I know he cares about Hogwarts's wellbeing. We'd take you in for Christmas, history aside."

They entered the carriage without further comment. However, the conversation continued in Harry's mind. He concluded Draco was afraid of Mr Gaunt because Mr Gaunt's name was so infamous.

Hermione words intruded his thinking. Can you tell me what's Mr Gaunt's first name is?

He couldn't. But that was okay.

Right?

Mr Gaunt was Mr Gaunt and that was all Harry needed to know.

The other three Slytherin's sharing the ride were voiceless. If the silence had a name it would be Mr Gaunt because as the silence grew so did Harry's questions.

He had known Mr Gaunt only in brief gatherings. Now he was set to spend Christmas with the man. Harry could guess what that involved but didn't actually know. All Mr Gaunt had given him were instructions to get to Obsidian Bay from Kings Cross station.

Harry shook away his thinking. Mr Gaunt had said to himself that he was going to give Harry a perfect Christmas. Harry wasn't going to fall for Ron and Hermione's what had said. If anything, it was an opportunity to prove Mr Gaunt was a trustable character, someone Harry could safely spend Christmas with.

Inside the Hogwarts Express, it was oddly calm. There weren't as many people returning home as usual. The train wasn't full of excited energy. They had a whole cubicle to themselves. The last handful of students were loading their trunks.

Draco resurrected conversation with a subject change. "Uh, I'm not really sure how to say this but there's this rumour that Astoria doesn't have a dance partner."

"Sorry, I don't know who she is?"

Draco shuffled in his seat. "Oh, Greengrass. Younger sister of Daphine?"

Harry thought for a bit then remembered that Daphine was the girl who beat the senior slytherins at gobstones. "You want to ask her sister to the Yule Ball."

"Yeah, I had this crush for a while. It's why I rejected Parkinson… among other reasons."

"Defiantly. Go for it." After his success with Cho, anything was possible where girls were concerned.

There was a knock on their cubicle door. Harry instantly recognised the silhouettes of Hemione and Ron.

Draco made room and Harry slid open the door. "Decided to come travel with me in case Mr Gaunt turns out to be Voldemort."

Harry expected a snort or something ,Hermione and Ron stood as if what he had jokingly said could be true.

"We just wanted to say that we can't stop you from going, but we want to make sure you're safe. So always write to us." Ron sounded defeated. Harry sensed it was the tail end of a huge debate between the pair.

"Also, here's a decoding sheet, in case you have to say something in secret." Hermione gingerly placed the sheet on the empty space of opposite Harry's seat.

The train's whistle sounded. Ron exchanged a glance with Hermione. After some hasty goodbyes and Christmas wishes, they abandoned the train. Soon after, the Hogwarts Express lurch into motion. Harry half-hearted waved the silhouettes of his old friends good-bye.

Five minutes into the train journey Draco studied the code sheet out of curious boredom. "As I was saying. I was planning on asking Astoria to the Yule Ball."

Harry did his best to ignore the sheet's existence. There was no need for him to constantly write in code to prove he was alive. Mr Gaunt posed no danger. "Sure, go for it. I'm sure Astoria would be flattered."

"Thing is Daphne doesn't have a partner either." Draco set the sheet aside. "I was thinking we could go as a group. Me and Astoria, you and Daphne."

"Yeah, as long as Daphne doesn't mind me dancing with some other people here and there." Harry thought of his offer to Cho. He wouldn't let anything stop him from having that dance.

Draco retrieved a prophet from his things and began skim reading the front page. "She'd probably appreciate that."

For most of the journey, the ride was dull. Harry and Draco casually chatted about an article in the prophet, rumours going around the school and other insignificant things. Mr Gaunt wasn't mentioned, or the situation between Hermione and Draco's father. The Kyototon's deal and supposedly dangerous note hadn't passed Harry's mind the whole train ride.

All in all, it was a pleasant journey. By the end of which, Draco and Harry had negotiated a double date with the Greengrass sisters.

At Kings Cross station, Harry had gotten his trunk and things with relative ease. He was busy reading over Mr Gaunt's instructions. Apparently, Obsidian Bay was not a place you could reach with the floo network or a port key. Harry had to take another wizarding train. One that travelled around significant wizarding towns and villages.

Draco sent the Greengrass sister his farewells as they went to join their parents. He pushed his trolley and joined Harry's side. "Where is he?"

Harry looked at Draco then back to the letter. "Mr Gaunt is meeting me in Obsidian Bay, I have to catch the Magical Traveller."

Draco gave him a look. "There are multiple levels of danger about that situation. Just spend Christmas with us."

Harry pocketed the letter and pushed his trolley into motion. He needed to find platform seven and a half. Presumably, it was similar to getting onto nine and three quarters.

"There you are!" Narcissa Malfoy strode past Harry and embraced Draco.

Not far behind was Lucius. He eyed Harry for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Harry ignored them and studied the letter for further clues on what to do.

Draco parted for his Mother's hold. "Father, it wouldn't be a bother if Harrison joined us for Christmas?"

Lucius gaze locked with Narcissa's. They stared at the other sharing unvoiced speculation.

"Well, I…" Lucius struggled with his thoughts. "Is it Harrison's intention to come for Christmas."

The family side-eye Harry. He could feel their eyes on him, demanding his explanation. He smiled sourly at them, Draco in particular. "I'm going to spend Christmas with Mr Gaunt, whether you trust him or not."

Lucius opened his mouth but Narcissa spoke first. "Then you should go to him." She extended her hand for the letter as a gesture of peace. He let her take it, figuring she knew better than him how to catch the right train.

"Well, it's the same case as when catching the Hogwarts Express. Go to platform eight and seven, find the halfway pillar and travel through. There'll be a ticketing booth nearby the entrance." Narcissa handed back the letter.

"Thanks." Harry calmed himself, nodded to the Malfoys and went on his way.

-~o~-

When Harry arrived, it had been fantastic. He and Mr Gaunt had a joyful day. The skies were leech-less and bright. The streets were a buzz, trading in magic Harry had never seen before. Mr Gaunt took him on around the second-hand shops, they found themselves in the hunt for relics. When the sunlight began to dim, they descended the cliffside lanes and had fish and chips on the pier.

The next morning Mr Gaunt was barely around. Harry saw him in about two or three glimpses of the day. Solely to check if Harry's was still working. Mr Gaunt implemented strict instruction that Harry stayed confined to his guest room. He was to spend his waking hours at the writing desk studying.

Most of the time he stared at the storm outside. It had descended so quickly. Nothing was visible except for the downpour of fat raindrops. An elf would bring him meals, replace his textbooks, and blatantly inform Mr Gaunt if Harry slacking. A day into regime and Harry was itching for excitement. Surely, they'd return to the fun they shared when he arrived? Mr Gaunt had promised the perfect Christmas.

He slouched in his seat, loathing the desk and constant work it represented. His eyes needed to adjust after staring at so books. Harry knew Mr Gaunt was inside doing something.

When the house-elf delivered breakfast, Harry remarked about the dreadful weather. The leeches weren't so much as leaping but bucketing on the cliffside. With a bite of annoyance, the elf said 'A short walk outside would be certain death in such weather! Master had been reliant on the local floo and now the network collapsed. It'll be days before it's up and running.'

Harry probed for further explanation. He was under the impression that obsidian bay wasn't a part of the floo network. The elf stared at him like he was stupid. It turns out that, yes, the bay isn't found through the typical floo system. Instead, it had an illegal network. One that required a very particular kind of powder. Obsidian Bay's appeal was that many things could pass through it without notice.

The elf must have sensed Harry surprise and promptly added, 'the ministry heavily monitors the Master trade. It is easier, Harrison should understand. But the master has never harmed those he cares for.'

Harry steered his memory away from that conversation. It wasn't worth analysing. So, the bay had some questionable stuff happening. But really, it wasn't too hard to guess. If anything, Harry was dumb to not see it. Besides not everything the ministry deems bad is harmful.

The important information was that they were stuck in the summer house. Mr Gaunt had no means of reaching his movement or dashing off to broker magical objects. It was Harry's chance to have a proper catch-up. Without lessons or work.

He closed his book and left his chair. It made him feel incredibly bad, akin leaving his room back at the Dursley's. In all likelihood, Mr Gaunt had serious work and didn't want to be disturbed. Yesterday, Harry caught brief hints that currently things were complicated for the man.

Sheepishly, he turned his doorknob and began to venture out. On the second set of stairs, he came face to face with Mr Gaunt. The man jumped at the sight of him. Then eyed Harry suspiciously.

"I was going to cross-reference this book. The part where it talks about the Goblin Wars. This book doesn't go into much detail about why Godric was given a goblin made sword. It seemed interesting." Harry internally crossed his fingers that Mr Gaunt would see curiosity instead of a lie.

Mr Gaunt's hand slid under his robe like he was checking if his wand was there. "Uh yes, the Sword of Gryffindor, fascinating piece of craftmanship. Harrison-" Mr Gaunt gained a tone that was a little short of friendly but not quite lecture. "You can summon the elf to retrieve such things. See, I'm working on things that I don't want you caught up in."

Harry put his book on a nearby hall table. "Not today, the floo network is ruined. It's just you and me."

The downpour of leeches outside filled the silence between them.

Harry couldn't stand it. "I just wanted to see you."

Mr Gaunt shut his eyes and in that motion, his tension was set aside. "Of course. Shall we have lunch downstairs."

Harry agreed and Mr Gaunt led him downstairs, through the drawing room into a small dining room with a round table for six. There was no natural light, the walls hidden behind dusty velvet drapes. But thanks to the fireplace, the otherwise haunting room was cast with a homely orange glow.

"I suppose, you're in need of a break. I hear you've have been studying diligently." Mr Gaunt unfolded his napkin and placed it over his lap.

Harry did the same, trying not to appear unmannered. "I don't mind too badly. It's nice to be able to study outside of Hogwarts. No distractions and unlike the Dursley's, here, I can perform magic."

The elf presented a shepherds pie with butter-roasted asparagus and freshly baked bread rolls. Mr Gaunt wastes no time in serving. He grabbed Harry's plate and plated his portion first.

"The muggle world is no place for a young wizard. Did I read you Benseman Mahler's article on Half-blood difficulties?" Mr Gaunt returned Harry's plate with portions larger than he was used to.

Harry eyed the lump of asparagus placed intentionally onto the top of his shepherds pie. "No, I don't think so." He could feel the political shift, like Alice stumbling into the rabbit hole.

"Well, it is his belief that half-bloods are the ones most harmed by the current system." Mr Gaunt finished serving his own plate. "You're actually half-blood, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"No shame in it, mother's side?"

Harry stiffly nodded again.

The elf came and served their drinks. A pot of tea for the table and a half glass of wine for Mr Gaunt.

Mr Gaunt continued like the elf didn't exist. "And it is her muggle sister that has inherited your care?"

Harry confirmed but quickly took a mouthful to prevent Mr Gaunt from asking more. Whenever the words muggle and muggle-born were being danced around, he found himself very uncomfortable.

"It should be criminal Harrison. You have slipped through the bars into the hands of abuse and suppression. Only to return to magic and find yourself barred from complete access. Had you been given to a well-established wizard of clean heritage the magical world would be yours to claim."

'Clean heritage' sounded as gentle as a pillow strapped to a mallet. Harry accepted that Mr Gaunt was a dark wizard. He was willing to believe the dark arts were useful when used properly. However, purebloods being superior to muggleborns was a concept Harry couldn't begin to understand.

Mr Gaunt set his cutlery down. "I'm trying to say that your muggle ties prevent you from properly entering wizarding society. Every summer you are forced to live like a muggle, without your feelings put into consideration."

Things felt getting out of grasp. Harry may not know all the nooks and crannies of the blood status debate but it didn't mean he had thoughts and opinions about it. "So, by having a muggle-born mother, you think I get treated as a muggle-born."

Mr Gaunt promptly finished his mouthful so he could get his words out. "Exactly the problem. You're not a muggle, Harrison. you should be raised as a wizard by a wizard."

Harry didn't feel as energised by the conversation the way Mr Gaunt visibly was. "By that logic muggleborns should be given to wizarding families as well."

"It would never work." Mr Gaunt had forgotten formality. He waved his fork about the air before loudly impaling his asparagus. "The muggle-borns must stay where they belong, with what they know. Whenever they come into our world, they pollute it and contort things to suit them."

Harry put down his cutlery finding his appetite was lost. "I disagree."

Mr Gaunt met Harry's eyes pointedly. "You think the world is all hunky-dory, do you? Harrison, I thought you understood or at least I had explained…"

"It's not hunky-dory. It's closed up and judgemental. Muggles aren't an infestation of pea-brained inferiors. They're as like us as anyone." Harry dreaded Mr Gaunt's reaction so he kept talking to delay the inevitable. "If Benseman Mahler cares so much about magical excellence maybe he should investigate why the ministry is bottling up magic rather than expanding the wizarding world."

Silence descended on the dining room. It felt as though a real dementor had taken a seat. Harry could feel the rapid beat of his pulse. It occurred to him that he had never truly spoken against Mr Gaunt. He had always smiled and taken his words as well-meaning advice.

Mr Gaunt wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Interesting. Care to elaborate?"

The calmness, almost curious, tone of Mr Gaunt's words threw Harry. He forced his nerves together and pushed his point. "It's always about welcoming muggleborns and hiding magic. Well, what has the ministry done for magic itself? Put it in a box and shove it at the back of the wardrobe. It's like they're so afraid of being discovered that wizards have to be more muggle than muggles."

Harry wasn't sure what he was saying. He was at the cusp of what he understood of the ministry. "That's not the muggleborns' fault. They don't know what's happening. In fact, most wizards don't."

Mr Gaunt tipped his glass to Harry then took a sip. "I've enjoyed this for too long."

Harry was at a loss to what Mr Gaunt meant with those words.

-~o~-

The Polyjuice had worn away. There was only much hair a preserved corpse could provide. He rummaged through a case of small potion flasks. Had it been excitement or dread that lead him to be so poorly organised for the boys stay. He gave up and collapsed on the nearby armchair.

Bellatrix was forbidden to come. For that he was grateful. She was making a habit of falling out step whenever the boy came into conversation. Probably hoping to gain a motherly role in their dynamic. If so, her mistake for marrying Rodolphus.

His fault for the gaping weakness.

A velvet bundle lying across the trunk at the foot of his bed soothed his mind. A Prewett had summoned it. He and his brother still died. Gryffindor's sword made little difference for them. But it benefitted himself. A Hufflepuff had died for the cup, Ravenclaw for the diadem so it should be a gryffindor for the sword.

Lunch's debate remerged in his thoughts. Harrison, that baffling boy. The child had been so sheep-like until recently. He almost wished to be his shepherd again. What a mind the boy had. Harrison wouldn't just swallow everything given to him. He'd chew on it and decide if he found the taste pleasant. Enraging, yet, nice.

He rubbed his face. Harrison was insufferable. All of his endearing nuances, confusing. He had no use for the boy. He was a toy, for duels and comfort. What Dark Lord kept toys? what immortal had sons?

As if on brilliant cue, the other mistake of his life intruded on him. The door creaked apart and revealed an old stuffed frog. Its head and body were a ball with overly long stringy limbs attached. The frog rolled in on its own accorded and bumped against his foot.

He instantly realised knew the problem and kicked the thing away. The frog rolled back without a sign of hurt.

"I know you're jealous. You always are." So he had lunch with another child. Oh, it must be the end of the world! Well too bad. It was nice to have a proper conversation for once.

That must why he dwelled so heavily on Harrison. He had more to interact with.

The frog bounced on its own. He watched it like it was puppy begging for a bone. "Yes, I spend time with another boy. Maybe if you weren't so burdensome, I wouldn't need extra company!"

The frog fell like it had been dropped and sat at his feet, lifeless. The door slammed shut and he was certain he heard glass break downstairs. Another tantrum it would seem.

He kicked the frog away harder. It snagged on a table leg and loudly tore. He gripped the armrest knowing it would be him who would have to repair it.

For a long while, he sat in contempt protest. Ultimately, he had to do something. The Darkest Wizard to walk the earth picked up the stuffed toy then went to the neighbouring room to make amends.

-~o~-

Each tick of the cloak felt like someone was tapping Harry's head. Leaches still pounded the glass outside. There was no hint of sunlight. Or Christmas. A graveyard had more festive cheer than that library.

He glanced over his shoulder. Mr Gaunt was deep in a weeks' worth of prophets. Harry was reminded of a rat sniffing around for leftovers. He turned back to his textbook. Its words had merged into a blur, exhausting his mind by simply existing. He had been reading the past sentence for the past half hour. The clock persisted to tick his head.

At first, he thought Mr Gaunt was being nice. Harry was excited to be leaving the guestroom, have a second chance with Mr Gaunt. Yesterday's lunch left him feeling guilty and he wanted to prove he could listen.

The storm showed no sign of easing and his mind was desperate for a distraction. He wondered if they would dive into ancient magic or brew some potions together. All that stuff Harry had been missing out on while at Hogwarts.

Instead, he was forced to continue studying. Except in the library, under Mr Gaunt judgemental supervision.

Mr Gaunt curtly cleared his throat. "Wandering mind?"

Harry didn't answer. His bent his head over the book stared for a moment before flipping the page. His head leaned against his knuckles. When did Mr Gaunt become Professor Snape? He didn't come to study. He came for Christmas. His own special wizarding Christmas.

When Mr Gaunt made the offer, it seemed genuine. Yet, once he arrived Mr Gaunt shoved him into a room with the sole instruction to study. Harry was sensed a little disdain from the man too. He adamant Mr Gaunt wasn't what Ron was making him out to be. There was an explanation for Mr Gaunt change in attitude.

"Should I prepare a test for you, Harrison?"

The rustling of newspaper pages made Harry want to rip his book apart. Reason or not, it hard not to be bitter in return.

"Would that scare your laziness away?"

Harry's chair screeched across the wooden floor.

Mr Gaunt slapped the papers down. He shot Harry the most disgusted look. "Boy!"

"What's your problem?" Harry had enough. He wanted to talk, normally, back when he was back at Hogwarts.

"Excuse me?" Mr Gaunt had risen to his feet.

"You suddenly hate me! Ask me to sit with you, so you can do all that sneering you've put on hold. Well, shove off because I get plenty of that in Hogwarts." Harry's ran without his attention. He had waved a red flag before a bull. The look in Mr Gaunt eye confirmed it. His insides twisted. It was time to leave.

"Well, I'm sorry for making you work for the greatness you are more than capable of." The mahogany desk was the sole barrier between Mr Gaunt and Harry.

He made a break for the door. His body slammed against the wood while his hot hands clawed at the knob. The door didn't creak. It was unmoved, a decorative illusion of a door.

"Coward! Face your mentor."

Harry didn't look back. He had a gut feeling that pain was to come. His scar even prickled.

"You disgrace. What would your parent think? Seeing their son grow to be lazy. Clinging to the generosity of others to tide him through." Mr Gaunt's moved away from the desk. He even had the nerve to tut his tongue.

Harry continued to wrestle with the motionless doorknob. He did his best push to Mr Gaunt out of his mind. He was certain it was an attempt to redirect his attention.

"Grasp your wand and bow, Harrison! Prove yourself like a man."

"Enough!" Harry stopped struggling. He pressed his head against the door. His tears broke dam and trickled from his eyes. "No more duels. No more books or- or greatness. I don't want it." The break in his voice exposed him. He sniffed his nose clear and shamefully mopped his face with his sleeve. "Didn't you say 'know what you want and only get that'? Well, I don't want to be some little project of yours."

Outside the sky rumbled. Slimy bodies of leeches slammed against the glass. Harry refused to see Mr Gaunt's reaction. The clock loudly counted the wait. Harry kept his hand on the knob readying for the moment it could turn.

"So, what do you want?"

He meekly turned his head. Mr Gaunt looked back, no longer enraged but exhausted.

"I wanted you to show me exciting things, take me places and show me the real wizarding world. I wanted Christmas. My own, not somebody else's. I would belong to without feeling like a guest or the orphan in the room. And I hoped you'd want the same, with me. Then I could pretend we were family."

The clock, the storm and the leeches were silenced.

Mr Gaunt stared at the floor perplexed. After some time, he relinquished his tension. "I've got this black-tie event tonight, was going to get my hair styled. Would you like to join, they could sort something out for the ball?"

"I thought the floo network had collapsed?" Harry stepped back from the door.

"They've fixed it enough to travel around Obsidian Bay. We could go to the cake shop afterwards." Mr Gaunt took some uncertain steps towards Harry. "How about it?"

Harry met his eyes and accepted the olive branch. "Yeah. And you can tell me what you want for Christmas."

"Harrison…"

"After everything you've given me, I'm giving you a present."

Mr Gaunt smiled. When he did, Harry was certain the storm outside had subsided a little. The clock stopped counting seconds and the leeches weren't harassing the window.

"Alright then, be ready by three and I'll go think about gifts."

-~o~-

Something about going to the barbers had lifted Mr Gaunt's strict regime of study. The barber had not only styled out what Harry thought to be untameable hair but also the invisible resentment that had grown between the pair. Harry was free to roam the summer as he wished.

Except for Mr Gaunt's part of the guest wing, all three room. For privacy reasons.

At last, Christmas was becoming what Harry hoped for. For the first time in his life he liked the way his hair looked. Not plastered to his head the way Vernon wanted but properly trimmed. The kinks and bends of wild hair naturally fell into a flattering arrangement. His face was balanced and framed, instead of looking like he a mop of black hair on his head.

The next morning, Harry was called to the drawing room. Mr Gaunt was beside a fluffy-looking evergreen hanging baubles. He motioned to a worn-out storage box and asked Harry to untangle the paper chain.

"I know it's silly. 19th-century German baubles sharing a tree with an old paper chain." Mr Gaunt cautiously lifted another glass bauble from its box. "It's tradition, I guess. We made it when the best I could afford was nice gift paper."

Harry gingerly took the paper out of the box aware age had not treated it well. Regardless of the yellow stains and mouse bitten edges, he could apricate that the mistletoe gift paper chain would have been prettier in its early years.

"Did I tell you about Vinnie?"

The name stirred something in Harry's memory but no clear connection came to him. "Maybe."

Mr Gaunt paused, stared at nothing then continued with his task. "Well, the chain is Vincent's favourite decoration so be gentle. He put a lot of time into making it."

Harry examined the pile of paper trying to seek out the ends. Vincent. That name rang more familiar. Vincent Crab? There was no chance Mr Gaunt was on friendly terms with one of Draco's friends. Plus, the chain was way too old to be made by him.

Harry successfully found one end of the chain. Vincent. Wasn't that old Mr Gaunt's apprentice.

Harry felt very out of place touching the chain. He stared at it, wondering if he was worthy to continue.

"What is it?"

Harry looked over to see Mr Gaunt giving him a weird look.

Mr Gaunt hung another bauble on the tree. "Look, I just prefer decorating the tree without magic. It's one of the few things you don't use it for. It's christmas, Harrison, it's about being together not about making life easi…"

"No, that's not it at all." Harry caught himself, realising how rude he had been. "It's Vincent's chain… your Vincent, the one who…"

Had been shot. But Harry didn't dare say it. He instantly adverted his eyes hoping Mr Gaunt didn't see his thought.

Mr Gaunt turned his back and continued hanging baubles.

Harry when back to untangling the paper chain. The task wasn't as troublesome as he first assumed. It was like it had untangled itself. He looped it around his arm and approached the tree.

Mr Gaunt didn't look angry or annoyed like Harry was certain he would. Instead, he pulled a few coils off Harry's arm and began warping the chain around the tree.

Halfway around, he broke the quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Harry wondered if he spoke too quickly.

"No, no." Mr Gaunt examined the mouse bitten paper. "I shouldn't be sad. I have absolutely no reason. Vincent is a very capable and brilliant wizard. Despite everything, he does me proud."

It must have been years, decades even since Vincent passed. Yet, Mr Gaunt continued to mourn the loss.

What kind of person had Vincent been? Harry felt like an intruder to be in the position Vincent used to occupy. Perhaps it was why Mr Gaunt pushed him so hard, so Harry would meet the standard Vincent had set.

Mr Gaunt carried on, wrapping the chain around the tree. He stepped back and looked it over. "There, nice and pretty. Harrison, how about you put the angel on top."

"Me?" Harry felt stiff like he was set in place, inanimate. "I don't think I can reach."

"Then I'll lift you." Mr Gaunt handed Harry the porcelain topper.

Harry had barely processed the implications when Mr Gaunt gripped his sides and raised him up. With no other action to take, Harry extended his arms and placed the angel on the tree. Her peaceful eyes watched over the room. Her peaceful gaze made it seem all was calm. Except, Harry knew it wasn't his place to touch or decorate the tree. let alone crown it with the final most important piece.

Mr Gaunt put him down. "I'll get the nativity set. You'll like it, the figurines are charmed to quietly sing hymns."

During lunch, the house-elf notified Mr Gaunt that the floo network was up and running again. Soon after, they were harassed by onslaught of followers appearing from the hallway fireplace. Every follower Harry could name interrupted their lunch, and then some.

The volume of people was too much for the small dining room to bare. Harry didn't need any telling. He took his lunch and left without Mr Gaunt's instruction. But not before Bella could plant a wet kiss on his forehead.

The volume of people was too much for the small dining room to bare. Harry Heard Mr Gaunt command everyone to queue outside of his office so he could deal with each case separately. It was clear Harry would not be Seeing Mr Gaunt for the rest of the day.

He retreated to the second floor, in a room tucked out of immediate sight. The room made his nose itch, most of the furniture covered with sheets but the piano looked recently played. Pages of music scattered around the instrument's legs. The bay window looked over the bay. He took a cushion and throw off the nearby sofa and decided to get comfortable on the window bench.

The storm outside had eased. Fewer leeches assaulted the town of Obsidian Bay. Harry did note that a lot of slimy slug bodies had clogged the gutters of the house below. Maybe there weren't enough leeches alive to pound against the houses.

A single note stepped into the still room. Harry turned to the piano. The instrument, lacking eyes or any limbs, stared at him. Another note chimed into the room.

Harry was certain he was sharing the room with another being. The piano keys began to sink and rise and play without any hands touching it. Harry was certain it wasn't a ghost or ghoul because they could be seen. The piano was playing on its own accord.

The music was complex and in constant flux. There was no narrative to the sound. It was playing for the sake of irritation. The piano continued staring into Harry. He felt incredibly intrusive.

"Sorry. I'll leave you to it." His feet brought the rest of him upright.

Whatever he had stumbled upon, his gut knew it wasn't his place to confront it. The doorknob rattled in his hand. He tugged it, then pushed. The door was either locked or magically forced shut.

From behind the piano keys ran from low to highest then back down again. Harry looked over his shoulder and felt slapped by the piano's demanding stare. It was impossible to know what it expected from him.

He awkwardly shuffled away from the door. The piano waited. Harry with little option chose to sit himself on the sofa. It was right beside the door. Not far to run or scream if things went south. The one day he decides to leave his wand with his things.

The piano broke into concert. With many movements that made it difficult to know when to clap, if a part had finished and when he could have a break.

His eyes dazed over and began lazily dreaming to the music. Maybe the piano's only intention was to be a piano and play music. He slouched in the sofa and gathered the throw over himself. The music sounded like he was returning somewhere. A place he had never been but it felt like home. Not Hogwarts, a family home.

When Harry came to, there was a wet patch from where he had dribbled during his sleep. Moonlight illuminated the room and the piano was lifeless. There wasn't the bustle of the movement members echoing around the house. Harry guessed it was late. He rose from the sofa and left without trouble.

In the corridor, there was a toy frog. Bizarre. A child might have accompanied one of the visitors and left it behind. Harry picked it up. Its ball-shaped body was dressed in dull old-fashioned robes and had four long stringy limbs. Harry figured it'd be best to give it to a house elf or at minimum put it somewhere easily found. The child would be missing it.

On his way to the guest wing, he put the frog on a side table near the hall fireplace. It could be seen by anyone who flooed into the space. He continued to his room. Mr Gaunt was likely in his room. Harry had a feeling it was past dinner and the meal set aside for him would be cold. Good thing he was a wizard.

He came to the guest wing and locked eyes with an object. The frog. The feeling of being stared at returned. The frog looked at him the same way the piano did. Harry could only guess it was magic because the frog couldn't stand like that, ridged on two soft stringy legs.

The frog turned on the spot and began an odd stride towards Mr Gaunt's room. Harry watched. Its thin floppy legs swung from step to step.

It stopped. The round body turned, twisting its legs together to stare at him.

It wanted him to follow. The demand was forced through its stare into his mind.

Harry felt he had fallen from a great hight with insides had been left behind. He cautiously moved towards it. Internally he knew Mr Gaunt would yell at him for breaking his one rule. However, Harry also feared the frog being caught wondering about. Mr Gaunt would blame him for that too. After all, what use did Mr Gaunt have for a Toy frog?

The toy was pleased. It dropped to the ground with a little bounce. Once on the floor, it was nowhere near at intimidating, it looked normal, how it was supposed to.

Harry suspected he was dealing with a poltergeist. They were annoying, he knew that from dealing with Peeves, but this one didn't seem that bad.

The frog rolled down the hall then swerved to the right. Harry listened for any sound. There was nothing so he made a quiet dash for the frog. Hands ready grip, he went to lift it.

The frog was unmoveable.

Harry Persisted.

It was like the small frog had the weight of a boulder. He let go, straining his brain about what to do.

The door before him clicked and opened on its own accord. The frog tumbled into the room beyond, slammed against a bed frame then enthusiastically bounced.

The smell that struck Harry prickled in his nose. A strong whiff of spearmint which burned his sense of smell. His eyes threatened to water but it was the least disturbing part of the sight.

Around the bed textbooks flicked, board games were in play and the soft toys were alive and chasing each other. But the boy who lay in the bed appeared like a corpse.

His face was grey, sunken cheeks and heavy undereye. His expression in limbo, neither pained or peaceful. If his chest was rising, Harry couldn't tell. But the boy's lips were ever so slightly apart so Harry questioned.

However, the boy was lying so formally. Hands place over the other, resting upon his stomach. He was dressed in a black nightshirt that struck Harry as a ceremonial kind of thing. It looked like it was hundreds of years old, made of expensive material with a stiff high collar. Not the kind of thing anyone would sleep in. Open casket.

Too many questions stirred for Harry to keep track of. The longer he stared the more it confused him.

"Harrison? I'm finished with everyone." Mr Gaunt's voice called up the stairs. "I know it's late but I figure you could have pudding while I have my dinner."

The sound of Gaunt's approach yanked Harry back into the moment. He realised the full scope of the situation he was in. Mr Gaunt had trusted him with one rule. Harry had broken it. He staring at something his eyes were not meant to see.

His throat felt tight. Why was Mr Gaunt hiding that boy? Harry's palms got clammy. It became priority to know if the boy was dead or alive. If he was dead, then Mr Gaunt was keeping a corpse.

"Harrison?" Mr Gaunt was not far away.

Harry couldn't bring himself to move. The decisions before him were immense. They made a confrontation with Voldemort seem easy. He could close the door, pretend it never happened. That he never saw. Could he even pull that off? Could he refuse to think of what had been seen?

No, he knew he couldn't. It would always be there in the back of his mind. Which meant he had to…

"Harrison!"

Mr Gaunt was directly behind him. Harry did not turn to greet him. His eyes were still deciphering what he had stumbled upon. Mr Gaunt's arm slithered around the doorknob and shut it. The man's breath was quick. He could feel it brush against his skin.

Harry needed to speak, remaining in silence would only make it worse. His lips decided it necessary to justify his actions. "The frog led me here."

"Of course he did." Mr Gaunt pulled Harry into his side. Harry heard Mr Gaunt heart thumping. He recognised the rhythm of fright.

They stood together for a long minute. Mr Gaunt pulled in himself into order. "I should introduce you properly. If you'd please." He reopened the door and guided Harry to the boy's bedside.

Harry sat on the seat Mr Gaunt offered. Mr Gaunt was not angry with him, which was nice. But Harry got a vibe from the secret boy that was lying before him.

Mr Gaunt sat on the corner of the bed. He cupped the boy's hand with his own and kissed it. "Harrison, this is Vincent."

Vincent. The previous apprentice Mr Gaunt had mentored. The person who many years ago had been shot dead. Vincent was the person who lay on the bed. The boy looked only about two years older than Harry.

Mr Gaunt must have sensed the havoc in Harry's mind. "Ah… well… You see, after the incident, I did my absolute best heal him, called upon all the forces of magic I knew. The results… well they were partially successful."

Mr Gaunt Lay Vincent's hand back down. "But don't feel sorry. He's a brilliant wizard. Everything from the boardgames, the books and the toys, that's all his doing. He even plays the piano and violin. And makes me a cup of tea in the morning. You'll love him. Here." Mr Gaunt grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled it towards Vincent's hand.

Harry did not want to touch him. He did not want to know what Vincent felt like. If Mr Gaunt was being truthful or Vincent was indeed cold and ridged as he looked.

"Harrison, please."

Out of pity, he stopped resisting and let Mr Gaunt guide his hand. Vincent's hand was without a doubt bony but not leathery like Harry expected. In fact, it was overly soft, like it was frequently bathed in lotion. Then something stirred. An unnatural feeling, yet very familiar.

Harry's mind was pulled into a new space. It had no walls, floor or ceiling, but there was a bed surrounded by floating boardgames, textbooks and toys. In the far distance, Harry could even see a piano.

Harry's fingers were entwined with a far more animate hand. He looked into the face they belonged to and froze.

Vincent's bright ice-blue eyes stare into him. A bemused smirk smeared across his face. "He's still putting on that act, isn't he?"

Harry didn't notice what he said. The sight of Vincent's very much alive consciousness completely threw him. There was something wild about him, simultaneously childish and mature.

"Who cares about me. Honestly Harrison, I just lie in bed all day. Read a book, play a concerto or two. Nobody pays me mind. In fact, you're the first person I've met since the whole bang, bang thing." Vincent dragged Harry's mind onto the bed.

He sat against his pillows with Harry's hand firmly in grip. "Tell me what's been happening. More precisely, the stuff he won't tell."

"Who?"

Vincent looked at him like he was a clueless buffoon. "Who do you think? I only ever get to speak with one person. Come on, out with it!"

So Vincent was after information about the world beyond his trapped slumber. Harry wasn't sure what to give. "We put up the christmas tree."

"I know that! I can see that!" Vincent thrust Harry's head over the bedside forcing him to see the christmas tree below. They pulled back. Vincent drew closer to Harry. "But there's stuff he won't show me. Stuff he blocks me from seeing. But I know you had a fight. I could feel it."

Harry really wanted to let Vincent go but it was more a case of Vincent releasing him.

"Come on, he won't let this drag on for long!"

"Fine! Which fight?" Harry instantly felt snapping back was a misstep.

Vincent didn't care. He had an ecstatic look of surprise on his face. "Multiple fights! Harrison, I applaud you! Please stay."

Harry really didn't get Vincent's reaction. But if he unconscious, bed bound with only one person to speak with, Harry guessed he'd also be a bit unhinged. So he indulged Vincent's amusement. "We disagreed about muggle-borns."

Vincent Howled with laughter.

"Then he had a go at me, trying to tell me I was lazy and not meeting my full potential."

"Probably because you didn't change your opinion and his pride was horribly offended." Vincent could gather himself as smoothly as Mr Gaunt.

"We got over it," Harry added, hoping to diminish any chance of Vincent thinking there would be more fights to come.

Vincent abruptly changed his dementor. "Look, I've known about you for a while and you've made me smile, even if you didn't know it. So, hear me as someone who's been where you sit. Undeniably he cares about you but he cares solely because you make him feel loved. That's all he wants you for."

Harry looked at Vincent blankly trying to see where his cryptic words were coming from.

"Harrison." Vincent's voice pinned him in place. "The body I'm in wasn't born from a mother. It was conjured from a cauldron. I died that night. He made this body. Then he shoved his ambition, heritage and blood into me. I exist solely to make him feel loved. And will be the same for you."

Harry felt a tug on his wrist. His mind grew numb but a tiny voice within him commanded him to push on and focus on Vincent.

"You will have to fight for who you are and battle what he wants you to be…"

The final words Harry didn't fully catch. He had returned to the room, his body clutched in Mr Gaunt's arms. Before him lay Vincent, rigid, grey and sickly. There were still so many questions but they were slipped from Harry's concentration.

Fingers combed through his hair, curled around his ear and massaged Harry's earlobe. All his thoughts and questions were gone. Mr Gaunt's touch, through calming, felt misplaced.

Harry shook his head and shoulders. Mr Gaunt's hand abrupt retreated. They looked at the other, smiling with their lips but not with their eyes.

"Sorry." It was the best Harry could say.

Mr Gaunt rolled a click out of his shoulders. "Don't be. I admit it's a strange thing me and Vinnie have."

"No, I understand. You had to save him. Anybody would feel the same. And how could you know that he would end up like… yeah. You did the right thing." Harry slid away Mr Gaunt's lap without trouble. But Mr Gaunt's fingers looked desperate to pull him back in.

"It means a lot to hear that." Mr Gaunt's fingers combed Vincent's overgrown black hair instead. "Vincent is a son to me. I hope it doesn't bother you."

Harry took the gesture as his cue to leave. "Not at all."

Red flashed in Mr Gaunt's eyes. Harry was struck by the glare.

Certain his words were spoken too dismissively, Harry did his best return to normal conversation. "I mean, you've saved his life and care for him every day. I'm nothing in comparison."

Mr Gaunt nuzzled Vincent's head. The sight grew even uncomfortable when he pressed his lips against Vincent's forehead for an overly long amount of time. Harry could not ignore the corpse-like appearance of Vincent's body, even with the knowledge that his mind was alive and well. The sight was wrong.

"I wouldn't undersell yourself, Harrison. I care deeply about your well-being too." Mr Gaunt continued snuggle Vincent's rigid body. However, his eyes were firmly upon Harry. There was intense demand in their gaze. "Just understand, he'll take my time away from you."

Harry made a quick glance back to the door. "So does your movement. Really, I'm the one taking time from you."

Mr Gaunt was still. His lips were straight. His eyes clawed at Harry's. He lay Vincent down and sat back. "Fine. Go. Leave yourself out of this family."

It took a good minute for Harry to realised what Mr Gaunt had done. Once he knew, his feet were inside his room. But it couldn't be possible. Mr Gaunt wasn't that kind of person.

Although, Harry had been that thought a lot during his stay. Mr Gaunt might have actually tried to make him feel jealous of Vincent. For what purpose? It was beyond Harry. Beyond what he knew about Mr Gaunt. He didn't know a thing. So far Harry was left with the recurring feeling of being toyed with.

It was decided. He wouldn't think about Vincent. It was a mystery that Harry wasn't going to solve. After the Yule Ball Harry would not be returning for Christmas day. The whole mentoring thing was done. Not because of Ron or the rumours. He wanted some distance from Mr Gaunt.

-~o~-

The wallpaper had bubbled and in places peeled off the walls. No doubt because there was a leak somewhere. Decay had taken the manor. The lit fireplace of the study was the only part alive. But a boy, about sixteen years of age, kept his distance from the fire.

He leaned against a chipped window frame turning a pocket watch in his palm. It was no longer warm, no longer pressed against his father's heartbeat, no longer hiding him within. He looked up catching Nagini adjust her coils in the window's glare.

"Come join us."

He turned towards the fire where the silhouette of a tall back chair waited. He didn't want to approach it. Confront the reality he was reborn into. But he couldn't neglect his Father. Not After the sacrifices he had made.

The boy approached knelt on the dusty floor beside the chair. Curled in the lap of the seat, the bundled vessel of his Father rested.

His mind couldn't trace how everything had gotten so desperate. The past decade had been a blackness. It was only when the professor came that his mind sensed warmth.

It was the wrong kind, and not his Father. The Professor never respected the pocket watch. He carried it carelessly. Misplaced it constantly. And once the watch found itself in the hands of ginger-haired twins.

To think, it was his lost brother who ended the nightmare. For a long while, the boy refused to believe it.

Harrison was lost forever. His unharmed body had a bounty of a hundred thousand galleons. No one ever managed to find him. The lookalikes were obvious. Harrison was one-of-a-kind. And most-likely dead.

His father was absolute in his theory. Harry Potter was Harrison's past. He returned to the rebirth business, manifesting bodies of clay to occupy. He studied feverishly over ancient manuscripts and illegal writings, fuelled by grief and desperation for his second son.

After the Professor was reduced to ash warmth was replaced with heated arguments.

More years passed until the Rat Man arrived. Once again, the watch was shoved into a stranger's pocket.

He watched as the Rat Man botch Father's meticulous ritual create a temporary body. The bulk of Father's plans wasted by one missed step. It was like learning Harrison was gone for a second time. The overwhelming helplessness, thick enough to drown in.

The boy was stuck in restless limbo. He through of the forced funeral the followers had arranged. The grave where Harrison's empty coffin lay. Neither of them could reach for him, bring him to safety.

The loss exhausted the heart of their family. Care was too burdensome to carry.

It was when the boy accepted his situation that he woke. The world that greeted him was ugly and cold. The Rat Man was aghast to have two to care for. The reliable servant, Crouch, was furious at he wasn't Father's first or second prince. Father got them to stay. The Rat by fear. Crouch with many false promises.

"Father?" The boy rested against the armchairs. "Are you angry about what Harrison has done?"

The bundle of scratchy blankets stirred. "My memory remains unchanged. He chose to stay. It's a matter of figuring out when that will pass."

The room fell back to quiet. The boy tried to catch a glimpse of his father's expression. The boy wanted his real brother. However, Father was fixated on his belief. "He destroyed you, and by consequence everything we worked for. I was trapped inside the pocket watch, alone. I had nothing, except for blackness and distorted memories."

His Father breathlessly tried to hush. "Vincent. I have analysed that night for over a decade. Greater magical forces were responsible for my downfall."

It was like hearing Salazar confess Godric had been right. The boy gripped the armchair. "He outright refused you, even when you offered to resurrect his parents. Then burned your face off!"

"It wasn't his time." His Father was final.

The boy chewed on his unspoken words.

"I remember the exchange before the mirror differently." The bundle pulled its blankets tighter to itself. "Anger was replaced with newfound understanding… However."

The boy moved to sit cross-legged before the armchair. "You think he'll turn against us?"

"It's complicated. Harrison may be as much of a lie as Mr Gaunt was." A tiny skeletal hand slid out from under the blanket and reached for the boy. "It will be Harry Potter we invite to our family. You have to accept that."

The Boy cupped the fragile hand with his. "Yes, Father."

The hand withdrew back into the blankets. "If I could hold you, Vinnie, I would."

The rattling from the loose doorknob downstairs announced the Rat Man had returned. The boy hoped the Rat had collected the proper ingredients. It was the third trip and Father's potion had a deadline to reach.

"I'll ensure everything goes as planned." The boy gently patted the blankets before leaving to tend the cauldron.