So, that last chapter, huh?

Anyways, I have no self-control when it comes to making my favorite characters suffer. What can I say? "I just think it's neat." Lol.

On the other hand, I think I've got the hang of this, and I plan on updating on Wednesdays when I have a chapter ready. I'll usually start on a new one a day or two after releasing a chapter, then I'll just work on it until I find a good spot to cut off at.

This chapter Harry wakes up and has to deal with the aftermath of his death and un-death. Dumbledore is also mentioned, but he's sleeping and dreaming of his greatest desire… wooly socks.

_

~

Salvaged (NateWantsToBattleNathan Sharp)

"It's been years, since I've seen a face around here

I was broken and alone, in that hell I called my home"

~

Unbeknownst to the driver of the large company truck, not all of her transport were just the company's regular scrap metal and robots needing replacement parts. After all, there was a crank-up suit in the back that had a body in it. The lack of blood left in the corpse meant that it didn't make a mess of the truck, and without much light to see by when she took a look inside the truck, the woman in the driver's seat didn't see any reason to question the new robot going back to the warehouse so soon after the diner opened.

'Maybe some of the parts didn't work right,' she thought idly when she dragged it out amongst the other things. It wasn't the first time the company had to send malfunctioning bots back to the warehouse for storage after finding flaws in the design, or they had a problem with the servos locking up after too many kids spilled food inside the metal parts. The food explanation would certainly explain why it smelt… off.

"Ugh, I hope management doesn't want me to clean this thing." She said under her breath, too tired for anything else and ready for this job to be done already. With one last haul, the woman dragged the yellow robot into a corner of the warehouse and propped it up against a wall near a decorated box and left, never to know that she had just helped a boy escape a requirement to a drunken seer's prophecy, therefore nullifying it. After all, neither can live while the other survives. And Harry was no longer surviving, nor was he amongst the 'living'. But because of this lack of life and the location in which he was placed, for the very first time he was going to live.

A few hours later, Harry woke with a start. It was dark, as was usual for his cupboard, and he was sure to hear Aunt Petunia knocking on the door to his cupboard soon, demanding he watch the food and fry the bacon. As soon as he thought this however, a new thought presented itself. If he was in his cupboard, why was it so quiet? Usually the snores from his uncle and cousin could be heard throughout the house, including the cupboard where he slept. That Harry couldn't hear any Dursley-ish noises was, in fact, very worrying. If he wasn't in his cupboard, then where was he? Trying to focus his eyes in the darkness was pointless; he knew this from experience, so instead he decided to try and recount what happened before he had woken up to try and figure out where he was.

The first thing that came to mind was a party, but not his. His aunt and uncle would never throw a party for him, so it must have been Dudley's. Then a foggy memory about a pizza place and feeling tired in the arcade floated in his head. Afterwards, it was dark and the place where the party had been was quiet and empty. He could remember looking for an exit after getting locked in and finding a late-night employee who said he would show him the way out. Then… then he remembered the sheer terror he had felt when the man had led him somewhere else, turning on him and coming at him with a knife. The pain was horrible, but then it had healed, somehow, before something far worse happened. The man had dragged him into a corner of the room before leaving and grabbing a mascot costume, yellow with long ears, and shoved him inside. Then the man did something to the suit and left before he went through the worst pain he had ever felt… and that led to here.

Shaking horribly, he tried to feel his body for any of the injuries that he could remember getting along his arms and legs. In the dark he couldn't see, but he could feel that his sense of touch was… off. It was like he was feeling through a thick cloth or a glove, making it hard to tell if anything was wrong. Except for the odd feeling that came with touching things, it didn't seem like he was hurt though, since none of the pain from earlier was present. Deciding to stay put for a little while longer, Harry waited patiently in the dark early morning hours until the lights came back on at six.

Immediately following Harry's death, three things happened. First, the wards at Number Four, Privet Drive, failed, and left the place without its dark magic, owl and wizard-repelling wards. At a boarding school up in Scotland, a spinning top enchanted to change color and speed according to the condition of the person it monitored had stopped, and went grey in color. And third, a soul fragment belonging to Tom Marvolo Riddle passed into Death's realm as it no longer had a living container to latch onto.

Now, if only someone were there to witness any of this happen.

Alas, 'twas not meant to be, as an elder wizard named Albus Dumbledore had lost track a few days ago of the no-longer-spinning top amongst the many trinkets filling his office and was currently in his bed, snoring and dreaming of Christmas and wooly socks. Many months later, when he would remember to take a look at the top monitoring Harry's well-being, it would be too late to do anything about the darkened and motionless status of the once lively and colorful indicator of the Boy-Who-Lived's wellbeing.

When he saw the lights automatically turn on with a loud clicking noise, Harry was surprised to see he was against the wall in a large warehouse. Then he looked down at himself, wondering why everything felt weird when he tried to touch the floor or feel his arms. That was when he saw that his arms and legs were yellow.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA!" he cried out in fear. "What the- what happened to me?!" Harry panicked, looking at his arms, eyes wide open and shocked. He moved his hand from the floor up to eye level and tried flexing his fingers. He watched in a horrified fascination as he could feel his hand moving, not only on the inside, but on the outside with the costume as well. If he were breathing, he would have hyperventilated, but Harry noticed that he wasn't breathing while he sat in the dark earlier and had already come to realize he was probably some sort of ghost or something, which in hindsight probably didn't do much for his mental state, seeing as that was when he was going through denial about being killed. Now, he just wrapped his arms around his legs and tried not to have a breakdown, shaking with silent sobs.

Thirty minutes later, he decided to try and move around. What he didn't expect was the extra height that came with being a seven-foot tall robo-rabbit, making him fall over more than once as he tried to get off the floor and walk. The ears didn't help much either. Another round of failed attempts and Harry was starting to figure out how to move so that he wouldn't fall over again. Moving slowly and not over balancing was key, as the long mechanical ears made him more top-heavy than he was alive because he was small and underfed from his stay with the Dursleys. That was another thing he noticed earlier in his denial. He would never have to deal with his so-called 'family' ever again, which was a relief. He would have laughed if he wasn't so overwhelmed at the time.

One step after another, he slowly walked along the perimeter of the warehouse, taking care not to get too close to the aisles of large shelves in case he fell again and knocked them down. As he walked, he noticed that the place was full of robotic parts and tools, which probably meant that nobody was likely to be looking for him, or if they were, they wouldn't find him anyways.

'Good riddance,' he thought. It wasn't like he had anything going for him back at Privet Drive, as Dudley always made sure he had no friends and no one ever thought he was too small or skinny for his age. The one time he had gone to one of the teachers and showed them the bruises from being targeted by his cousin's gang of bullies, the teacher had waved him off and called the Dursleys to tell them Harry was telling lies after asking Dudley about the incident. When he had seen his aunt next, she sent him straight to his cupboard without dinner and he wasn't allowed out for a week unless it was for school, making food, or taking a trip to the bathroom once a day.

Coming upon a section of the storage that was labeled with a laminated paper saying 'Fredbear's Family Diner,' his curiosity peaked and he decided to take a look. Maybe there was some kind of evidence left from his killer? It was a chilling thought, but it left some hope of righting the wrong that had been done to him and, if Harry was being honest with himself, he wanted a little revenge, even if it was defacing the man's employee file.

Looking at the three metal filing cabinets on the right of the sign and ignoring the mechanical parts and large box prop on the left, Harry started digging. He fumbled a bit with the papers, his fingers being bigger than he was used to and with less friction. Starting with the first one, he opened it and saw papers regarding the ownership of the land and building the business was located on. There were a few pictures of the former owners, a duo named Henry Emily and William Afton, but a note saying they had sold the rights to the name and business to another entertainment company in order to carry on their legacy after they died, as their children were all overseas and had little interest in the business their fathers had set up. Two death certificate copies showed they were sadly no longer in the land of the living, but that they had a place dedicated to them as founders in company records nonetheless. There were a few photos of what the land looked like before and after the construction of the building, but not much. Records of purchase showed that a company named Harpson's Audience and Entertainment had bought the company, so nothing really interesting there.

The next cabinet featured blueprints for multiple animatronic characters, including Fredbear, which he had seen in the diner before. There were a few characters he didn't recognize, but figured were planned for future release. One model caught his eye, because of the long ears, and it was named 'Spring Bonnie.' He took a long look at that one, as it was that one he thought he was probably stuck in. According to these blueprints, Spring Bonnie was a suit that used things called 'springlocks' and could be worn as a regular costume when not in animatronic mode, much like the Fredbear model. A paper stapled to the back of this one showed another blueprint regarding how the springlocks were situated inside the costume, and stated that they needed to be replaced every six months and checked before each workday to make sure they weren't going to get loose when a person was using the suit. A hand crank was also included in the design. One that looked awfully similar to what the man had stuck inside the suit before leaving, causing him to die. The realization of how the springlocks must have crushed him when he died made him feel sick, so he just put the papers back inside before taking a break from continuing. Using a few minutes to compose himself and keep his hands from shaking enough to hold more papers, Harry turned to the final file cabinet. This time, he found what he was looking for.

In the final cabinet, employee records dating back decades were meticulously organized, each file in alphabetical order according to their last names. They were also divided by whether an employee was currently working for the company or not, leaving Harry with a good starting point as to where to look. Grabbing the bunch that said 'Current,' Harry set them on the floor and sat down next to them. Sorting through each file took time and patience, but seeing as he had both of those in abundance, he set to work flipping through each folder, looking for the mandatory photo he knew was in each file. It seemed that going to school was good for something, as evidenced by that useful little fact he had learned after being called to the principal's office during picture day and listening to the man go on in a rant about how he would look in his employee photos when he was older. It hadn't even been his fault that his hair was messy and his clothes stained. There hadn't been enough time that morning to sneak to the bathroom and try to use his fingers to attempt to comb through the mess, and his clothes were always messed up somehow, as he never got any until dear, darling, Dudley outgrew or ruined something about them. In any case, he was glad to know that in every employee file was a photo, which worked to his advantage today. He was going to figure out his next move later, but now he had to figure out which of these employees was a cold-blooded, child-killing criminal.

After what seemed like an hour or so, Harry had narrowed his list down from about twenty-five to two suspects. Remembering the features of the man that killed him was difficult due to it being dark the night before, but he could distinctly remember black eyes and hair and a thin build. As it would turn out, only two male employees fit the bill. First there was a man named Mike Schmidt, who worked as a guard at the Fredbear's near Privet Drive. The second guard, and the one he suspected just a bit more, was named Dave Miller, and worked at the same location. The only problem however, was that their files didn't specify which one of them was the guard during the day and which one worked at night.

Putting the other files back into the cabinet in the correct order, Harry kept the guards's files separate and laid them on top of the file cabinet. He wasn't done snooping around just yet, and figured that if he wasn't going to be caught, he may as well wander a little around the place and figure out what it looked like. Then he heard a loud creaking sound coming from directly to his left. He turned his head to face the noise and saw a pair of empty eyes looking at him.

With a shriek of fright, he jumped back a bit too quickly and fell to the floor. When he looked up, he saw another animatronic standing above him. It looked like a doll or string puppet, a mask on its head with tear tracks and red cheeks painted on the white surface. The eyes had glowing white dots in them, which he guessed were pupils of some sort. What threw him off, however, was the voice that came from it.

"Hello?"

It sounded like a girl his age.

So, William Afton isn't the bad guy! In this universe, Will wasn't as horrible a parent, Charlie isn't dead, William's kids aren't dead, and he and Henry did everything above board and lived to a good age. Before they died, they decided on selling the rights to the diner to a company that could continue where they left off because their kids weren't super interested and only hold small shares in the new company the rights were sold to.

Also, the prophecy is invalid now, since Harry isn't alive and neither is Voldemort, even if Harry is no longer 'surviving'. And Voldemort has already been vanquished once, theoretically completing the prophecy, right? Good.

I didn't feel like going through all the missing children incidents in this story, and I want it to focus on and revolve around Harry/Springtrap, so only the Puppet will be incorporated as a real character from the other animatronics. I think I'll include Plushtrap too though, in a sort of younger sibling role, seeing Springtrap as a role model. I don't think enough stories include Plushtrap, since I see him as a smaller, more tooth-filled and gremlin-y version of Springtrap.