Chapter Text
People often say that in moments of extreme danger, life flashes before your eyes.
Some see memories of joy, others of regret. Some see nothing but grief, pain, and loss.
It is supposed to be a fleeting revelation before the world goes black.
For Harry, none of that ever happened.
He had faced death too many times to count, but never once had the past unraveled before him in some final display.
Not when he faced Voldemort.
Not when he bled, or broke, or nearly lost himself.
But this time was different.
He wasn't even near death.
When it happened, there was no rush, no memories, no frantic flashes of his life.
Instead, the world stopped.
It went silent.
His lungs refused air.
Teddy had been hurt.
Teddy got hurt .
“Daddy…” Teddy whimpered, reaching out with trembling arms.
Hannibal and Tobias were still locked in a violent struggle.
Tobias snarled, “Let go! Let go!” as he kicked Hannibal off and scrambled toward his gun.
Keeping Hermione and Teddy safe, Draco’s wand flashed at Tobias with a simple spell that knocked him off balance. Hannibal lunged, kicking Tobias hard, pinning him but before he could act further, everything flung back.
Draco shouted and threw himself over Hermione and Teddy, shielding them as they slammed against the wall near the door. Teddy screamed in terror at the sudden impact.
Hannibal crashed into the window frame, blinds collapsing over him.
Draco’s voice rang out for Harry but the words didn’t reach.
Harry was fully on Tobias, yanked off the ground before crashing across the room.
Harry’s eyes locked on the one who had dared to hurt his own. He wasn’t himself anymore. Every thought, every restraint, gone. His hands clawed, jagged, unnatural. Shadows twisted across his face, only his eyes remained, blindingly bright green.
Tobias didn’t see it coming. As quickly as he was thrown, bone-chilling hands closed around his throat, choking him. His limbs froze. Nerve endings screamed in resurgence, but his body couldn’t keep up.
“W-What—no, no, No! ” he choked, thrashing in vain.
Draco gritted his teeth, pressing Hermione and Teddy behind him. He cast Episkey on Hermione’s bleeding leg, then Teddy. The wind of power in the room made it hard to breathe. They backed away as far as they could, knowing better than to stay close. Remembering Harry’s warning if this ever happened again.
Tobias screamed. The power was heavy and every movement was a struggle. Harry leaned forward, unblinking, every muscle and ounce of power pulsing with controlled rage. The room itself seemed to shiver under the weight of it.
Death coiled and inhaled .
Tobias screamed, his body writhing as every nerve ignited in agony. His very essence was torn apart, fibers and genes straining to rebuild, only to be ripped away again and again. Over and over. It didn’t matter how hard he fought. It was effortless.
The light drained from his eyes. He hung there, hollow, for a moment before the corpse hit the floor with a dull thud.
Struggling to stand, Hermione held Teddy in her arms. The magic in the room was too dense, too overwhelming, making it hard to keep standing.
“Harry...?” Hermione whispered, as Teddy hiccuped into her shoulder.
“Let’s go,” Draco said, starting to guide them toward the stairs.
“We cannot just leave him!” Hermione protested, panic threading her words.
“I don’t want to either,” Draco said, hand steady on her arm. “But we promised him. I promised him, Hermione.”
“That does not mean we can leave him there! Look at him, Draco!”
Draco glanced down the hall. “And it is my duty to keep you, you and Teddy, safe.”
All through the chaos, through the screaming wind of raw magic and the two adults talking back and forth, Teddy had ceased crying. But his wide, tear-streaked eyes were fixed on the figure.
“Dada…” he whispered, a small voice, arms reaching as far as they could.
Hermione clutched him tighter, her breath short.
“Come on,” Draco muttered, guiding Hermione’s arm. His wand stayed low, just in case.
But Teddy wriggled, struggling. His tiny fingers grasped at empty air as little hiccups rose.
“No—no, Teddy, baby, we have to go—” Hermione tried to soothe him.
“Daddy…” he whimpered again, pressing his forehead against her collarbone. “Dada… no…”
Hermione froze, heart breaking into two.
“Sweetheart,” she said softly. “Your daddy will be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”
Draco stayed quiet with a serious look on his face, as if fighting with himself.
Teddy’s hiccups turned into a whimper. “No… Daddy…”
Draco rubbed his temple before looking to the ceiling, resigned. “Hermione..”
She knew that tone. Apprehensive. Calculated. And prudent.
“No,” she whispered, panic rising. “Don’t.”
But Draco was already watching Harry and down at the toddler in her arms, desperate to reach the man who was both frightening and familiar. “Let him go,” Draco said firmly.
Hermione shook her head. “No—Draco, don’t you dare . That’s Teddy . That’s—”
“I know,” Draco said quietly.
“You’re guessing! You’re guessing with a child’s life!”
Teddy was bawling now.
Draco didn’t flinch. “I am guessing. It’s a theory. One I couldn’t test. One I was afraid to believe.” He took a breath. “But it’s the only one that fits.”
“You’re mad.”
“Maybe. But I need you to trust me.” He softened, stepping closer. “Just this once.”
Hermione’s fingers trembled as she looked down at Teddy, little arms wriggling, tiny fists grasping at her robes. Her gaze then lifted toward Harry.
Harry was closer than before, staring at them. No, not staring at them. At Teddy.
Hermione's chest hammered. She barely recognized him. This was the same man she’d known her whole life. The first to stand by her side, her dearest friend, her fellow soldier, her brother in everything but blood.. but not like this.
She looked back at Draco, but Draco’s gaze never wavered.
Hermione’s breath hitched, throat tight. Her magic was humming inside her like a living thing, braced and ready. But her arms lowered. Slowly, reluctantly, she bent down and set Teddy on the floor.
His cry slowly ceased, hiccuping.
His crying softened, hiccuping through sobs, but his little body trembled as he looked up at her. Then at Draco. Then, finally, at the still figure across.
His father.
And with small, unsteady movements, the toddler crawled a few inches before his tiny hands stretched and he wobbled to his feet, legs shaking, arms outstretched.
“Da…” he babbled, voice quivering. “Da…ddy…”
Then Teddy’s balance faltered.
He tripped on the edge of the doorway falling forward—
A sharp gasp escaped Hermione, and Draco’s hand shot out. But before either could reach him, strong, sure hands caught him.
Teddy landed safely in his father’s arms.
The room went still.
Hermione and Draco held their breath.
Teddy blinked up at Harry, then nuzzled closer, his tiny arms wrapping around one of Harry’s. A delighted little gurgle escaped him. A happy ‘Dada” escaped him as he wriggled slightly, pressing his cheek against him, then looked up briefly, eyes wide and shining.
Harry’s hands instinctively encircled him. Teddy squirmed and wiggled, snuggling closer as he climbed into his father’s lap as Harry sank to his knees, still silent, his face unreadable, but his eyes were locked on Teddy. The boy’s fingers curled tightly in the folds of Harry’s jacket as he patted and tugged gently, babbling in his soft, urgent way.
A hush fell over the room and the crackling magic around Harry slowly began to dim.
Hermione’s eyes widened with tears. “How did you know?” she whispered.
“I didn’t,” Draco said quietly, voice hoarse. “Not for sure.”
“You gambled with his life!?”Hermione spun toward him, fury and adrenaline twisting together.
“I chose to give him a chance,” Draco met her eyes. “What happened last time, we were all nearly destroyed. But Teddy?” He gestured to the boy nestled safely against the Master of Death. “He was untouched. Minor bruises, not even a cut.”
Hermione’s lips parted. “He had injuries —”
“From debris. From falling. But not from him .” Draco pointed at Harry. “That magic didn’t touch him. Not once.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand…”
“I’ve been working on this since Harry told me,” Draco admitted. “About death. The Hallows. You and Harry assumed I was off on Auror work, but I wasn’t. I was with the Unspeakables, researching what Harry told me.”
He took a step toward Harry and Teddy, gaze distant. “The Hallows didn't just present him with a title. It’s not just a legend. It’s a state of being. Harry didn’t just survive death, he was claimed by it, if anything, as he told me about Dumbledore. But he wasn’t replaced. And the only anchor keeping him here is him.” He nodded toward Teddy. “He’s the thing that ties Harry to this world.”
Hermione’s eyes flicked to Harry again.
“I theorized,” Draco continued softly, “that whatever binds Harry to death… it doesn’t see Teddy as a threat. He’s not. He’s the opposite. He’s part of Harry. That magic recognizes him as his own. And if Teddy’s safe, Harry is safe.”
Hermione’s hands trembled again, but this time it wasn’t fear.
“I still can’t believe you—”
“I had to try,” Draco said firmly, locking eyes with her. “And I was right.”
They just stood in silence for a moment, watching Teddy, the rise and fall of Harry’s chest, and the absence of death’s cackle.
Then Draco exhaled slowly.
Draco exhaled slowly. “…Now,” he said,“what the hell are we going to do about him?”
Hermione followed his gaze.
Hannibal laid slumped against the wall.
Hermione hesitated, then carefully took Draco’s wand from his hand. With steady precision, she stepped toward the doorway and levitated Hannibal’s limp body out of the room.
“Wait –” Draco’s voice cracked with panic, but when Harry didn’t react, he exhaled shakily. “Merlin… this will be the end of me.”
Hannibal had taken the full force of the surge when Harry erupted. For a wizard, it might have left them stunned but conscious. Hard to withstand. For a Muggle, it was a miracle he was still alive at all.
Hannibal’s body floated toward them under Hermione’s spell, limp as a rag doll. Draco reached out to steady him, and his brow furrowed at once. Hannibal was pale, unnaturally so, his skin almost opalescent.
Draco’s fingers brushed his wrist, then tightened in alarm.
“He’s freezing. Hermione, he’s too cold. Something’s wrong.”
Hermione’s stomach dropped, but she didn’t hesitate. She guided the levitating body down the hall, wand steady, lips moving quickly through stabilizing charms. “I can keep him warm, keep his breathing steady… but it won’t last. He’ll need a Healer. Otherwise—” she swallowed, her voice raw, “I don’t know what else to do…”
Hannibal’s eyes fluttered open into a darkness that pressed against him like an invisible weight. The air was still, sterile, and cold. No hint of earth, no warmth, no wind. Only a faint metallic tang lingered, like iron on stone.
He blinked, instinctively assessing, trying every sense reaching out. This was not what he remembered. Tobias… the attack… then a void. His mind strained against the missing fragments, grasping at the edges of memory.
Then the edges of the space shifted, subtle at first, then violently, as though the darkness itself was breathing. Shadows stretched, walls materialized. Stone rose from the ground like skeletal architecture, walls tall, Arched ceilings disappearing into the shadows. A field emerged beneath his feet, solid yet unreal, familiar in texture but alien in scale. Above it, a castle loomed, ancient and impossibly vast.
Hannibal adjusted almost immediately, noting the view and his surroundings.
Fascinating , he thought.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
Hannibal’s head tilted, eyes narrowing. To his left stood a man, poised, tall, black hair perfectly framing a condescending and calculating face.
“The architecture is remarkable.” Hannibal said. “Yet… where exactly is this?”
A small, almost intimate smile played across the man’s lips. “Ah. Comfort has many faces. These walls, corridors, this courtyard… they belong to Hogwarts . My mind palace. Harry’s. And, for a moment, yours as well.”
Hannibal considered him. “And you are…?”
The man tilted his head, every motion deliberate. “Better question… why are you here at all? That, I would think, should concern you more than my identity. But to satisfy your curiosity… do you know of me?”
Hannibal noted the deliberate amusement in the man’s voice. “I do not. And yet you speak as though I should.”
The man stepped closer, circling Hannibal. “Possibly… Harry harbors me, still, though he longs to forget. I linger for reasons of my own. And to answer your question–” his eyes glimmered as he leaned in, “I am many things. I am the past. The present. The future.”
Hannibal’s lips pressed into a line. “Purpose is never withheld. How quaint, that you think so.”
“Clever,” the man mocked. “Now… Muggle . Yes, I’ll call you that. Limited. Fragile. Inevitably mortal. And yet… here you stand. Tell me, do you understand the nature of your presence here?”
Hannibal’s eyes narrowed slightly. Tobias had mentioned the word Muggle previously. Still, Hannibal allowed the tiniest predatory smile, born of intrigue rather than mirth. “I understand that I am alive. And that you are skilled at theatrics. I am curious.. what is your purpose in such display?”
The man’s smile deepened, almost appreciative as he circled Hannibal slowly. “How rude. It is the art of shifting the room, bending perception. After all… you are a strategist. You should be alert to such things.”
“And the purpose?” Hannibal asked evenly.
“My purpose is always for Harry. But for you, consider it.. a gift .” the man continued, “You believe yourself worthy. Do you truly understand what it is to be an equal to him?”
Hannibal did not answer immediately. He studied the man as one might an intricate specimen. “I see him. I see what he allows me to see. I do not presume to replace the totality of his being.”
A shadow of irritation flickered across the man’s face, quickly masked by that practiced amusement. “Ah… control. Always control. If you had the chance, even before everything, you would have contained it. Studied it. Dissected it. Formed it.” His steps slowed. “But do you understand him? Truly? Or only what your perception allows yourself to see?”
“I respect him enough to honor what I do not yet comprehend. Enough to act when necessary.” Hannibal’s expression remained neutral but true. “His understanding surpasses what most could hope to grasp.. and despite struggles, he acts without hesitation, without judgment. I respect that. I am captivated, as I am compelled to be. And despite it all, he is unexpectedly—”
“Kind,” The man finished for him. His gaze softened for the briefest moment, almost imperceptibly. “Yes. Selfless, yet kind.” Then for a flicker of a second, something raw crossed his face. Frustration. Hunger.. but it passed, replaced by the cold composure of certainty. “You are bold,” the man spat, nearly possessive. “Perhaps… we are more alike than I assumed. I measure worth not by words or thought, but by what one can accomplish. I am… the past. The present. And the future. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle.” He paused. “Though I would regard you to consider me a threat.”
Hannibal tilted his head in a rhetorical tone. “An obstacle… or perhaps a guide. Or both.”
Silence filled the space.
“Perhaps,” Tom murmured, a flicker of acknowledgement softening his tone. “And now… go on. This… assures me he will remain whole.” His presence lingered, faint, almost a breath against the sudden absorbing darkness. “That he is not alone…”
Before Hannibal could inquire further, Tom was gone, and the scenery shifted.
Shadows stretched and walls reformed, the air thick with the scent of old wood and dust. The wallpaper was faded and peeling, blackened in places as if scorched by fire, torn and curling where some force had ripped it away. Sooted streaks suggested they were not accidental.
Grimy windows let in muted light, while dark curtains hung unevenly, some shredded or pulled off onto the floor. A dusty shelf leaned against the wall, half-empty, its contents scattered. Loose parchment clattered, quills rolled across the floor, and a half-broken globe lay tipped on its side. The bed appeared to be out of place, mattress on the floor. The air smelled faintly of charred paper and dust.
Hannibal found himself in a dimly deliberately destroyed room.
In the center, sitting cross-legged on the warped wooden floor, was a young boy. Messy hair. Broad yet thin shoulders. The same boy Hannibal had seen in photographs and fleeting glimpses across the room.
“Harry?” Hannibal’s fingers twitched, almost of their own accord, careful, not to startle, not to crowd. He noted the tightening of the boy’s mouth.
Harry didn’t respond and Hannibal took a slow, deliberate step forward, then kneeling carefully to meet the boy at his level. He tried again, quieter this time. “Harry—”
“It’s my fault,” the boy's small voice echoed through the room like a confession, his accent slipping by. “Why… why is it always me?” His eyes stayed fixed on the warped floorboards. “I try… I try to do things right… and… everyone I care about… they—” He swallowed. “They just… die.” Looking at his hand. “It’s all my fault. Maybe… maybe it’s better if I’m alone… but I don’t… I don’t want to be alone…”
“It is not your fault.”
Harry’s head shook sharply. “But it is . They died because of me .”
“Did you cause their deaths?” Hannibal asked gently.
Harry’s reply was hesitant. “...Yes–no. I don’t know. But if I didn’t exist—”
“Then someone else would have taken your place,” Hannibal interrupted softly. “And yet you endured. You were tested, broken, and still you remain. You prevailed.”
Harry’s head snapped up, looking straight at him, with a blazing gaze.
“You’re lying.”
“I do not lie.”
“You are.” His voice trembled, anger and something else. “If you stay close to me, you’ll die too. Everyone does.”
“Then allow me to choose that risk.”
“ Don’t — don’t promise something you can’t keep.”
“I make no promises,” Hannibal said truthfully. “Only truth. I will not leave you.”
“Don’t lie to me!” Harry burst to his feet.
Windows and lights shattered.
“Everyone lies!” he screamed, chest heaving. “Lies, lies, lies!” He clenched his right hand. “They tell their own version of truth, pretending they know, pretending they care! I hate lies! Something always happens when people lie!” Harry’s eyes burned. “They saw they are doing it for your own good but it does nothing but hurt! You think you can tell me you won’t leave? That you won’t lie? They all said that. Every single one of them. And then they were gone. They leave. Or they die. Dead. Buried. Torn away.” His voice cracked, hoarse now. “ He promised too.. promised he’d never leave.. and I’m still here.. choking on that promise.”
“I never will,” Hannibal said, unfazed by the rain of glass. “I will not leave you.”
“Just stop it–stop saying that-” Harry’s voice cracked, “You don’t understand-- everyone who stays with me dies. Don’t you see?” His words rose into a scream. “The bird died. Ginny almost–Cedric died. Hedwig and Dobby. Sirius died. Remus—” His throat closed, and he pressed his fists against his eyes, grinding back tears that refused to stop. “S-Severus died. Tonks. I killed Tonks. A-And Tom —” He choked on the name, a strangled whine breaking through as his whole body shook. “How can I—” he gasped. “I can’t do anything right. He was always there—and because of me—h-he” His breath hitched like it might tear him apart. “So, stop lying to me… ”
Hannibal moved forward, closing the space by taking Harry’s hand in his, trembling against his palm. “I would not dare,” he said softly.
Harry looked through wet lashes, his fingers tightening around Hannibal’s, nails unconsciously digging into his skin.
Hannibal let him anyway.
“I’m scared,” Harry admitted. “I don’t want to lose control. I don’t want to hurt the people I care about.. I don’t wanna be alone again..”
Hannibal studied him for a heartbeat, considering possibilities before settling for one.
“Why don’t I tell you a story?”
Harry did not respond but did give him a confused look, as he rubbed at his eye..
Hannibal went on anyway.
“Once, there was a boy,” Hannibal said, his voice low and steady. “He had a little girl in his life.. bright, fierce, burning like a fire. She could do things he could not, things that were peculiar and beguiling. And.. he could not have been more proud of her. She was his pride and joy… the only one who could anchor him, steady him, for eternity. As she used her precious gift, she terrified her family. But to him, she was the only strong light in his world. And he belonged to her, as much as she belonged to him.”
Harry’s eyes flickered up at him, caught, curious.
“But one day,” Hannibal continued, his tone tightening just slightly, “people came— people who were nothing but savage animals, incapable of understanding her gift. Horrible things happened. She was torn from him, and he would never see her again.”
Harry’s voice was hoarse when he whispered, “Why would they do that?”
They both already knew the answer.
Cruelty comes in many forms.
“The boy swore to make them pay. So he grew. Learned. Mastered everything he could to ensure they would pay for what they had taken. And he did. He made them pay in full. Yet, despite that… he still could not see her again. He was told he would never be able to love as others do.”
“He must have felt…” Harry’s throat worked. “Incredibly lonely. What happened next?”
“The boy was, indeed, lonely,” Hannibal replied softly, “though he bore it. His life became a careful arrangement of cultivated pleasures and controlled extravagance with a gallery of art, of taste, of meaning, in which no one lingered long enough to matter. Until one day, that boy, who by then was a man, met another man.”
Harry leaned forward slightly.
“At first,” Hannibal continued, “he was intrigued, yet faintly appalled. The man’s rudeness was like a thumbprint on an otherwise perfect canvas. But when they spoke… it was as if the air in the gallery shifted. Paintings began to line walls that had been bare for years. He found himself eager to cross paths with this man again. But the man was stubborn. Avoided him. As much to keep away.”
Harry’s brows drew together.
“The boy knew… that it was his own pride keeping him from truly standing a chance. Perhaps the only way forward… was modesty. An apology. And so he offered one. More than once. Each time, the walls between them shifted just a little. They came closer. Inch by careful inch.” Hannibal’s gaze didn’t waver, from Harry’s. “Before the boy knew it, he had been woven into the man’s life. And the man in his. Fully. And something else… something the man had kept locked away, something the boy had never even considered… began to bloom. Nothing could alter the boy’s view of him. No danger, no past, no fear. The man had become precious beyond measure.” He paused, before breathing softly, “And that man… is no one else but you, Harry.”
Harry was silent, yet his gaze never wavered from Hannibal’s, searching.
“But why can’t I just stay here?”
His eyes darted around the shadowy room as if memorizing every corner. “If I stay here, confined, no one gets hurt. No one finds me. I don’t have to fight anymore. I don’t have to be used, or hurt, or hurt anyone back. No one would need me. I could just…stop.”
Hannibal didn’t answer at first. He studied the boy before him before stating certainly.
“It is tempting, isn’t it? To imagine the world might be… simpler, if you were gone.” He said patiently. “But, Harry… you are needed. More than you yet believe. There are those who need you. Not for what you do, but for who you are. Your absence would echo in their hearts as sharply as the loss of their own breath.”
“I don’t believe that…” Harry replied weakly.
“Then believe me,” Hannibal followed, caressing Harry’s cheek. “I care for you. I need you. I want you in my life, entirely, as yourself. And most of all… there is a little boy, Teddy, who needs his father. Without you, the light in his world dims. He will reach for you… and you will not be there.”
Harry’s gaze fell to the floor, his mouth opening, then shut again.
“I’m scared..”
“And that’s okay.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “I make mistakes.”
“So do I. Humans are… imperfectly perfect,” Hannibal said softly. “And you, Harry.. are beyond perfect to me.”
Harry’s lips trembled. “I’ll hurt people. I’ll hurt… you.”
“You may,” Hannibal allowed softly. “But I will be here. Every step. Every falter. Every fall. So, fall into me, Harry…. I will not let you go.”
Harry shivered and let out a quiet, broken sob, collapsing into Hannibal’s arms. Hannibal held him firmly, letting him lean fully against him, his hands resting gently on the back of Harry’s head, drawing him close.
“Tu esi toks, koks turi būti, mano mylimasis.” Hannibal confessed.
You are as you should be, my beloved.
Hannibal’s voice softened into a breath as he spoke his vow, his lips brushing Harry’s hair.
“Aš tave myliu.”
Sniffing echoed in the room.
Harry’s body felt heavy, bruised, as if a ton of bricks had landed on him. Pain throbbed in every joint, every muscle.
Another sniff, and a cold, wet touch brushed against his cheek.
A small, warm hand followed.
Harry groaned, turning his face as a tiny snort of air puffed against him. He blinked, and saw Teddy’s wide eyes staring up at him and Winston’s cold nose nudging against his face.
“Daddy…?” Teddy whispered.
“Teddy… Teddy?!” Harry gasped, pulling the boy close, checking over him, his throat raw. He reached out to pat Winston. “What—” His gaze swept over the room. It was overturned… Merlin, is that a hole in the wall and ceiling?
Teddy giggled softly as Harry rubbed his cheek, checking for injuries, before getting a kiss on the head, being gathered tightly in his fathers arms.
Winston’s tail wagged.
Footsteps creaked nearby. Harry squinted.
“You’re finally awake,” Draco said from the doorway.
“Dray…”
Draco sighed before smiling relieved, helping Harry to his feet, careful to support him while Teddy refused to release his grip. Winston’s feet tapped softly on the floor as he fled the room.
“I… it happened again. Why didn’t you—did I?” Harry asked, shaking slightly.
“Everything’s fine, Harry. No, besides the attacker, everyone’s fine,” Draco reassured him.
“I—”
“We were worried,” Draco interrupted simply.
Harry lowered his gaze, guilt crossing his features.
Draco chuckled softly and gave him a gentle push. “Try not to do that again, yeah?”
Harry let out a small, sad smile, the corners of his lips lifting despite the lingering guilt in his eyes.
“Come on.”
They moved carefully across the hall. Harry’s head throbbed, but despite the chaos, he realized the damage was far less severe than last time.
“Did you implement damage control?” Harry asked, rubbing his temple, as Teddy talked to him.
Harry hugged Teddy tightly.
How could he not?
“We did what we could,” Draco replied with a small nod. “Not exactly fun when the house is creaking like it might collapse at any moment.”
Harry sighed heavily. “Where’s Hannibal… and Tobias?”
Draco stopped at the door, expression shifting slightly. “Tobias is in the basement. We wouldn’t leave him there when Teddy was right here with you.”
Harry’s voice cracked. “Wait—why was Teddy with me in the first place? I—”
Draco shook his head. “Better not to discuss it now. Maybe later. What matters is that Teddy is safe. Hannibal is safe. You are safe. Everyone is safe.” He glanced down at Winston, who was sitting by the door, ears perked as if waiting for it to open.
Harry paused, then nodded. Draco knocked on the door. “Enter,” came the voice.
“How is he?” Draco asked.
“Much better. He’s stable,” Hermione replied, arms crossed, “but… I have no idea what caused the shift before.”
Harry’s gaze immediately went to the bed where Hannibal lay unconscious, still under the covers. “Is he… okay?” worry etched across his face.
Hermione glanced up. “He… actually grew a little under the temperature stress, but soon returned to normal. I thought he might need a healer, but everything’s fine. We couldn’t risk him losing memories of you. We’d never do that to you.”
Harry smiled, grateful. “About that…” he began, briefly recounting the moments while unconscious, just minor details.
“Huh… but the amount of magic he encountered… MACUSA would have intervened. Strange that it hasn’t,” Hermione said thoughtfully, as she stood. “I should check, just in case. That much magic would have set off alarms for miles. Still, I’ll check, just in case.”
“Actually…” Harry murmured softly, almost to himself, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Both Draco and Hermione turned to him.
“From what I learned… Hannibal’s sister was Muggle-born.”
Hermione relaxed. “Well, that explains a lot.”
Draco nodded. “Still… we’ll double-check the readings, just to be sure. You never know.”
Harry gave a small, grateful nod. He pressed Teddy closer, the weight of everything crashing over him. His chest tightened with guilt, relief that everyone was safe, and a wave of overwhelming gratitude. He shook at the thought of what might have happened if things had gone differently. He wanted to cry. The thought was unbearable.
He was left alone as Draco and Hermione moved through the house, undoing some of the damage. Draco fussed, as usual, about Hermione needing rest. She swatted at him, muttering something under her breath.
The door closed behind him.
Downstairs, Hermione and Draco settled into cleaning the rest of the mess. Hermione had already retrieved her wand, which she’d dropped by the entrance.
“I don’t know which one’s worse, but please.. do not tell Harry,” Draco said softly to her.
“Which one?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow, innocently. “The fact you studied the Hallows… or that you left Winston at the market?”
“I left him in a nice lady’s care,” Draco pouted. “The situation was dire. Spare me.”
He sat quietly beside Hannibal, eyes soft and brimming with relief. He had set up every healing spell he knew, just in case, to ensure Hannibal would awaken safely. For the rest, he simply stayed by his side, entertaining Teddy, who alternated between calling Hannibal “Nana” and “Hanni,” his preference changing every few moments as he stared curiously at the man.
Harry has so much to tell. Where to start? How to explain.
Harry had so much to say. Where to start? How to explain everything? He reached up, brushing a hand across Hannibal’s cheek. Will let out a quiet sigh and a soft smile as he watched Hannibal’s steady breathing. He had noticed over the nights how relaxed Hannibal seemed in sleep. Chuckling softly to himself, Harry leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the center of Hannibal’s forehead.
Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered open. The first thing he saw was Harry. His hand lifted instinctively to brush against Harry.
“Mylimasis..”
Harry froze, caught off guard, pulling back slightly, before a wet shaky laugh escaped him, a mixture of disbelief and relief. He leaned forward again, slowly, almost reverently, and pulled Hannibal into a hug
Teddy wobbled forward from the movement and stumbled gently into Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal one hand instantly settled lightly over the boy’s tiny body while the other grounded Harry.
“I swear that was perfectly timed,” Harry joked softly as Hannibal tilted his head in mild confusion. Then, he brushed his lips across Hannibal’s cheek, hugging him again, leaning into him fully, letting his weight press down onto the bed and onto Hannibal. Their eyes met. Hannibal’s gaze softened, calm and warm, and Harry felt it seep through him, filling every part of him, then, softer, almost a whisper…
“You… you’ll catch me?” Harry murmured, forehead resting against Hannibal’s temple.
“Always,” Hannibal breathed.
Harry exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering closed. For a moment, he just let himself be. “I gave you half-truths,” he admitted softly. “But about my life… I had not lied.”
Hannibal pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s lips. “I am ready whenever you are,” his fingers traced along Harry’s back.
“It’s a long story,” Harry whispered, still leaning into him as though the thought of moving away felt unbearable.
“I am sure we have all the time for it,” Hannibal answered, the curve of a smile meeting his lips.
Will’s smile faded into a teasing, yet initiating grin. “I’ll leave you to it. But first… I feel like we have other matters to deal with.”
Hannibal’s gaze caught the meaning and shifted briefly as he sat up a little. Teddy clung to his dress shirt, small fists stubborn. Hannibal patted the boy’s head, voice calm. “If your friends are agreeable to it, could they watch Teddy?” Teddy closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at him. “He is safe.”
Harry lifted his gaze, eyes shining with a mix of relief and anticipation. Hannibal’s hand shifted, brushing through Harry’s hair, thumb stroking the side of his face. “I know you had not actively participated in my pastures… but would you do me the honor of joining me tonight?”
Harry’s lips curved into a slow, appreciative smile. “You do not waste any time, do you?”
“Not at all.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Harry said softly. “I have a design in mind.”
He leaned closer, letting his forehead rest against Hannibal’s shoulder for a heartbeat before tilting upward, pressing a long, careful kiss to his lips. Hannibal responded immediately, one hand cradling the back of Harry’s head, the other still holding Teddy’s tiny hand, grounding all of them together.
“I love you too,” Harry murmured against his lips.
Hannibal would have devoured him on the spot, were it not for the young one in their presence.
They didn’t rush. Not yet. The hours after were theirs to simply exist in the quiet. They took their time. Adjusted. Checked. Ensured. Evening turned to night as the house gradually settled around them.
Thankfully, there was no call from Jack. That alone was a relief. For all the chaos that had passed, Harry’s house remained largely intact. The only exceptions were the small holes in the wall and ceiling but those were easily fixed with Reparo . Even broken objects were set right and shelves straightened.
Harry moved slowly, setting up wards where necessary, softening broken spells, repairing shelves, and resetting fragile items. He floated Teddy’s scattered and fixed toys back onto the shelves one by one. Teddy clapped his small hands, giggling, as Harry’s magic twirled some toys around him, Teddy catching one or two, before setting it onto the perfect place. Hannibal watched quietly, fascinated by the little motions, occasionally reaching out a finger to touch a floating toy, causing it to drift the way it was nudged before continuing its original path.
Hermione and Draco had offered their help, though Draco, the little nosy ferret he was, couldn’t resist teasing Hannibal. He poked and prodded, asking the occasional pointed question, while Hannibal’s curiosity remained mostly reserved for Harry, questions he would explore later at his own pace.
Draco chuckled, nodding toward Hannibal. “If you ever have any questions, my wife is basically a walking encyclopedia.”
“Malfoy…” a voice came from behind, and Hermione raised an eyebrow.
“Mia! You told me I had to adjust to these Muggle terms,” Draco protested.
"And I know exactly who you learned it from.." Harry looked the other way laughing as she gave him a look. Eventually he nudged them back downstairs. He knew they hadn’t eaten yet so he had them use the time, allowing him a quiet moment with Hannibal.
Hannibal’s gaze bore into him, curious, and he began to ask small questions.
Harry answered, fully and truthfully.
Harry sighed lightly, leaning back and feeling a sense of freedom and contentment. Each response felt like a small relief as he floated one of Teddy’s last toys to a shelf and nudged a stack of books into order.
“No..”
Harry smiled at Hannibal’s attempt to coax Teddy toward sleep.
“It’s late, time for big boys to go to bed.”
“No.” Teddy voiced, his tiny fists balled as he stomped away toward one of the books on the shelf, grabbing onto it, two more books falling in the process. Harry chuckled, shaking his head, then spotted one of the beanbags on the floor. He quickly transformed it into a small and low cozy bed, low enough for Teddy to climb into on his own.
Harry sighed, content, as he floated one of Teddy’s toys and a book toward the little bed. Hannibal arched a brow at the conjured furniture, then lowered himself onto it with unhurried grace, patting the space beside him to make it more inviting.
“Come here,” he coaxed.
Teddy hugged his chosen book.
“No!”
Harry’s quiet laugh rose and then he decided to walk over and collapse onto the bed.
“I suppose I’ll have the sleepover with Hannibal instead,” he sighed dramatically, tugging at Hannibal’s sleeve and leaning into him. “Just the two of us.”
That made Teddy stop in his tracks before his cheeks puffed out indignantly, and after a moment of sulking he dropped the book and hurried over, scrambling onto the bed.
“No! Me!” he wedged himself between them and pushed at Harry’s side.
He whined further when Harry threw an arm over him.
Harry let himself be pushed and tugged, still grinning.
Hannibal was amused and moved to the side, letting the boy settle contentedly in the middle.
It took some time, no more, no less than expected, but eventually Teddy fell heavily asleep.
It definitely had been way beyond his sleep schedule, especially after the tiring day.
And then it eventually came.
Draco and Hermione had said they can deal with the body but…
“We’ll take care of him,” Harry said simply, “You don’t need to worry.”
Draco’s sharp eyes flicked between Harry and Hannibal, assessing the statement. Hermione’s gaze, however, was harder to read. “I may have an idea of what’s going on,” she said softly before hardening her gaze on Harry, then Hannibal. “I will find out soon enough.”
Harry gave her a small, questioning smile. Hermione sighed, shook her head, and waved them on. She was tired.
She knew him too well.
Draco followed Hermione reluctantly, taking one last glance at the pair before heading upstairs.
And so they began.
“Clinically, this is remarkable.” Hannibal assessed Tobias’s body with clinical fascination. He was enthralled by the state of Tobias’s corpse, even more so that it was kept in stasis, halting decomposition. Hannibal’s eyes gleamed with a lean hunger for knowledge, and Harry found himself enjoying the sight.
“Look at him,” Harry said quietly. “What would you point out?”
Hannibal tilted his head, studying intently. “Despite prior injuries, he healed… almost as if… reborn.” His gaze flicked toward Harry. “Though the one I caused still remains, closed but not fully. He does appear to have frostbite.”
Harry nodded, a bit hesitant. “I think he had regenerative abilities. He may have known of me but I wasn’t entirely sure… not until after another one of his displays. The frostbite… would be me. It is…” He trailed off, glancing at Hannibal, who held him in that steady, expectant silence.
Harry’s lips curved faintly. “I’ll explain more later,” he said softly. “But for now…”
.
.
.
They slipped in through the back door, Harry murmuring Alohomora under his breath. The lock gave way with a soft click.
The shop was silent and smelled of varnish and dust. Harry noticed absently that there were empty hooks along the walls and some empty gaps left behind on the walls and tables. Jack must have taken them for evidence.
Hannibal did a quick look around before giving Harry a clear nod.
They set Tobias down on a table, right at the front of the entrance. Hannibal adjusted the angle of the body, Tobias looking less like a corpse and more like a marionette waiting for its strings.
“May I do the honors?” Harry asked softly.
Hannibal’s mouth curved in approval. “Go ahead.”
The work began.
The body was propped upright, limbs carefully positioned and as the cords were drawn taut, as angles were refined, Harry felt it.
Saw it.
You took the precious gift for granted.
Hannibal drew the first cord across Tobias’s chest, pulling his ribs outward, straining them, securing the knot. His head was tilted back, mouth forced open.
Twisted it.
Hannibal’s hands worked swiftly, guiding a carved out organ into Harry’s reach.
Tobias’s heart.
Harry placed it into the gaping mouth.
More cords followed.
Mother Nature herself denied it.
The sockets of his eyes were left empty.
So the answer is clear.. eat your own heart.
They worked the hands into place. Hannibal sewed the arms carefully, fingers curled inward as if he had torn the organ free himself. A flicker of sand was sprinkled, setting its mark.
For you are blind.
His own eyes rested in his palms.
You plead, but deny its cost.
The final cord snapped taut. Hannibal’s hands lingered for a moment, brushing the string, testing its tension.
The body was locked into its final stance, both offering and shame, display and punishment.
So stay as you are.
Blind. Hungry. Empty.
Harry stepped back, breath stuttering. His gaze fixed on what they had made, glancing at Hannibal, feeling him, seeing him, before looking upon their creation, the vision he had felt now embodied before him.
This is my design.
It was beautiful.
Beautiful in its cruelty.
Beautiful in its rejection.
“Its–” he tried to voice.
“I knew it.”
Will stopped in his tracks ice cold, quickly turning his head in heed and he saw.
Beverly.