Harry had fought the monsters holding him back for as long as he could, but at a spell from one of the Aurors he found himself unable to move. He looked at the offending Auror furiously, and could see Ron's emotions written in his expression. "I'm sorry Harry, but this is for the best. I'll keep you immobilized or tie you up if I have to, but I'd prefer not to do so. Please. Come quietly. You're only making this harder on yourself."

Come quietly? As if! What the hell did Ron think he was doing, siding with them? He always was the traitor, wasn't he? Why did he believe all that nonsense those bloody idiots were spouting at the trial? He was being framed, someone else did this, he'd never hurt Colin, never -

Ron seemed to shake his head, then instructed the other Aurors to levitate Harry's motionless form. "We'll take him to the nearest Apparition Point, at least. I'm not sure what to do when we reach Homes for Hope, we can't keep him magically bound, there are muggles on the grounds."

Harry considered his options. He needed to find Colin. Colin would tell him this was all just a prank, some new idea of George's perhaps. He needed to find the real killer. Maybe Colin would know. Who would be suspects? Malfoy, certainly. All that nonsense about his supposed love. That had to be a red herring to throw him off the trail. Colin would have told him, he needed to ask Colin, there's no way that could be true. What other Death Eaters had escaped prison? Nott? Parkinson? What if it wasn't a Death Eater? Who could it be then? Colin would know, Colin would tell him. He just had to get loose, just had to find him.

Ron held his arm and then Harry was being squeezed as they travelled from outside the Ministry to a small group of trees just outside Homes for Hope. Ron looked at him. "Can I trust you not to cause a scene?"

"Auror Weasley, we can't trust him at all," a young man piped up, and Ron narrowed his eyes at the Junior Auror. "Jerry, make yourself useful and handcuff him. Blake, keep your wand on him. I'm going to release the spell."

Harry knew at once when the spell lifted, could feel his muscles twitch with anger and frustration, but he kept still. He needed them to trust him. He let Jerry handcuff him, let Ron drape a jacket over the handcuffs to hide them from view, let himself be led into the Homes for Hope Administration Building, and allowed Ron to complete the necessary paperwork. He was led back outside afterwards, and the Aurors guided him towards Magical Hope.

"Hi Harry," someone said as the group walked along the path to the building, and Harry recognized the muggle nurse who had often come into Bill's room to give Bill food or medication. He couldn't remember her name, and glanced at the name tag. Robin. "Hi Robin," he said.

"I see you've brought some other investigators this time," she commented. "Are you still looking for Jane, then?"

Harry nodded, and changed the subject quickly. "How's Bill Bellingtine doing lately?"

"You hadn't heard? His Father took him home a few weeks ago. Decided there wasn't much more we could do for him then he could in his own home."

Harry blinked in shock. "Is Luke around? I'd love to ask him how Bill's getting along."

"Luke took a leave of absence. He wanted to spend time with his son."

Ron cleared his throat quietly, and Harry internally rolled his eyes. "Thanks for letting me know, Robin." He smiled at her and allowed Ron to steer him away, his mind reeling. Bill was now home with Luke. Luke couldn't do that, Harry needed to know when Bill woke up, needed to talk to him, how did his story end? What answers did his brain hold? Maybe Bill could help him find Colin. Help him find the killer. Maybe Bill was the killer. Or Luke. Didn't Luke hurt that man in the park? Colin would tell him.

As they entered the building, Blake led the way, Jerry brought up the rear, and Ron stayed beside him. Harry wasn't sure where the other two Aurors who had come with them were. He closed his eyes and listened: He could hear the faint tapping of two other pairs of shoes, and knew they were there, somewhere under a disillusion charm. He itched at the skin under the handcuffs and listened to the shoes tapping. Wait a minute - what was this? Harry felt the cool metal of the handcuffs again and wanted to laugh, but knew that would give him away. Bloody hell. Jerry forgot to use the proper handcuffs again. Let's see if he will get fired over this, he thought.

Harry turned so fast no one reacted quickly enough, and Jerry's wand was in his hand before Ron's spell was halfway through his lips. He threw up a shield charm in the nick of time; several spells bounced off it before he apparated away, and he was thankful for Hermione's lectures from years ago about the interworking of the spells that guarded the buildings that made up Homes for Hope. Only the secure wards have anti-apparition spells, she'd said.

Using everything he'd been trained in both investigative and stealth work, Harry found his way to the room in the Administration Building where employee records were kept. Luke's file was relatively slim, but it had what he was looking for: Luke's home address.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Harry stood outside Luke's house. It was larger than he'd expected, a sprawling ranch style mansion just outside the city. The drab grey colour was accented by a golden tone not unlike the gold thread that had shot up in the air during the trial. Whose trial had that been? He wasn't sure. It had been fairly recent though.

The doorbell was in the shape of the letter 'T' when his finger pressed it, and Harry frowned at it in surprise. There was a long stretch of time in which Harry wondered if anyone was even home, but he hadn't yet touched the bell again before the door opened and Luke stood in front of him. He was clad in sweats and a t-shirt and his expression seemed more knowing than Harry would have liked.

"I knew you'd come eventually," Luke said. His tone was light, but Harry saw a dark look pass through Luke's eyes as he spoke. "Come in, Harry."

Harry obeyed without a word, his eyes taking in the room as he did so. The walls were some brand of off-white, a scant few paintings the only colour added in a sea of light cream. Luke guided him through an door just to the left of the entryway, which lead to an expansive living area with a large wrap around couch facing a giant flat-screen television. The TV was on low volume, some random program playing, but all Harry saw was Bill sitting motionless on the couch.

"Bill, Harry's come for a visit," Luke said, and Harry nearly gasped as Bill slowly turned his head. No other part of his body moved, and his expression didn't change. Harry stared.

"He's making even more progress lately," Luke told Harry before he could speak. "He moves fairly often now. He still doesn't speak, but I feel like that will come with time."

"How..." Harry said, speechless. He looked away from Bill to focus on Luke. Luke's gaze was hungry, almost predatory as he looked at Harry, and somewhere in Harry's brain an alarm rang. Luke seemed to be weighting his words carefully. "You'd be surprised what you're willing to try when you're desperate, Harry."

And Harry thought back through the weeks without Colin, the struggle to find the right words to bring him home, and understood the emotion all too clearly. It seemed Luke was succeeding just as Harry had. Harry turned to look at Bill again and found him still staring at Harry, his eyes dark and expressionless.

"Why did you come here, lad?" Luke's voice was knowing, almost smug, and as Luke moved to stand behind where Bill was sitting on the couch Harry remembered that day at the park. He struggled to find words before pulling himself together, deciding that this question was most pressing. "That man. That day at the park. I saw you. Why did you hurt him?"

A flash of surprise flitted through Luke's expression, and Harry was pleased at the knowledge that Luke hadn't known he'd seen. "Are you all right lad? Have you been having hallucinations? I'm sure I don't know what you're speaking of."

"Don't lie," Harry said, and he bit down hard on his fury as he attempted to control himself.

"You didn't see what you thought you saw," Luke said calmly.

Harry's thoughts spun. What did Luke mean? Did he not attack a man in front of him? Had someone else attacked that man, and Harry had seen Luke because he'd been thinking of him? Was Luke trying to trick him? Had he seen Luke?

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Harry bit out, faking confidence in his words.

"Oh?" Luke questioned. "And what of you, Harry?"

Harry raised his eyebrow. "This isn't about me."

"I think you need some help, lad." Luke's serious tone was contradicted by the amusement in his eyes, and Harry was confused. What was Luke playing at here?

"Answer the question," Harry snapped.

Luke laughed. "Only if you tell me something in return. Tit for Tat."

"What could you possibly want to know?" Harry asked. His brain was caught between the desire to win, to force a confession, and some unknown dread he couldn't quite name.

"Come now lad, it can't be that difficult to figure out what I want to know. Think."

"Let's assume I don't understand what you're talking about," Harry said, a touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Enlighten me, why don't you?"

"I know about Colin," Luke said.

Flashes of a courtroom whipped through Harry's mind, and he pushed the memories away. Something about them tasted foreboding, sinister, and he didn't want to go down that road. "I've talked about Colin before," he said, somehow reluctant to understand Luke's train of thought.

Luke shook his head, and his hands came to rest on the back of the couch. "I heard what you did to Colin."

"There's nothing to know?" Harry said, but it came out like a question. "And even if there was, how could you possibly know anything anyway?"

"Bill had other journals, remember?"

Luke's non sequitur brought Harry up short, and he folded his arms. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"My Bill is a brilliant planner," Luke said fondly. "He knew that to cure the world of its sickness, he needed help. After all, even heroes rely on others to help them gather information to fight the villains."

"What are you saying?" Harry said slowly, his mind working to comprehend just what Luke was driving at.

"What do you think I'm saying?" Luke countered.

Harry looked away from Luke's gaze to rest on Bill. The man's eyes pierced Harry's, and Harry thought back to what he'd read in the journal, and in a flash he understood. "You had people helping you," he said to Bill. "You couldn't possibly find all the demons in the world yourself, could you. You needed help."

Luke nodded approvingly, and Harry felt a flash of pride. "Well done lad. My Bill cultivated contacts all across the globe. The Internet is a wondrous thing."

Harry didn't know what to say as he looked at Luke. There was a wild light in the man's face, a restless energy, and Harry's instinct told him to be on guard. He dismissed the thought. Luke was a muggle. There wasn't anything he could possibly do that Harry wouldn't be able to counter.

"My Bill made a brilliant cop," Luke said. "He had this way about him - he knew how to talk to people, knew how to make them comfortable, knew how to make them confess their sins. Even as a child he had this calming ability, this way about him that put people at ease. Sometimes I wonder if that's why his Mother abused him as badly as she did. He has such a brilliant presence about him. A brilliant soul. I think she couldn't stand to be outshined."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. That sounded a lot like how he felt about Colin. He pushed the thought away.

"Bill writes in one of his journals how he was drawn to the police force. He came across a child's body one day. Elizabeth had covered the body with a sheet, but he always was an inquisitive child. Perhaps she wanted him to see it, who knows. He looked at the body and was able to piece together what the killer had done, what the killer had felt, what the killer had thought. He was just a child himself, but yet somehow was able to put himself into the killer's shoes and understand the events that had transpired."

Harry felt his heart beat wildly. An ability like that was something all Aurors longed for. Spell work could tell a wizard a lot, but magic had limitations same as anything else. "You were raised in the home of a killer," Harry said to Bill. "How did you cope with that knowledge?"

Bill did not speak, but Luke did. "Perhaps similar to how I'd imagine the people in your life are coping, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes internally. What the hell? "I don't understand what you mean by that."

Luke didn't answer him. "Elizabeth was the worst kind of demon, Harry. I discovered after her death just how far she'd sunk. She killed and abused children in the worst possible way. My own Bill - some of the things he writes about in his journals are so horrific it makes me want to scream. And what makes it worse. Bill didn't seem to understand that he shouldn't be treated that way. The way he wrote...he thought he deserved that kind of treatment. My own son. What a way to grow up."

"No one deserves that," Harry said.

Luke barked out a shout of laughter, but his eyes were sad. "You don't see, do you," he said quietly.

"What game are you playing, here?" Harry asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice and not quite succeeding. "You seem to think you know something that you think I should already know."

"Patience, Harry. We'll get to that later." Luke gestured to the couch. "Would you like to sit down? Could I offer you a drink of some sort?"

Harry blinked, thrown, but he decided to play along. "I'm fine, thank you," he said as he moved to sit down. Luke eyed him with approval before sitting himself on the other end, across from Harry. There was a charged silence, and Harry's Auror training allowed him to view the situation as though he were on the outside looking in. Luke was the suspect, here. Harry didn't know what the story behind Luke's behaviour was, but he needed to know. The man he'd come to know during his visits at Homes for Hope had not seemed dangerous. What then, was the explanation for what he'd seen in the park? Did Bill know this too? If only he would speak, he could tell Harry what Luke was talking about, what Luke was thinking. So many stories Bill could tell. So many answers locked inside his head.

"You read Bill's journal. What did you think of his mission?" Luke's voice broke into Harry's thoughts, and Harry forced himself to concentrate on the situation before him.

"I - don't know," he said finally. "I think he's right, in the sense that there are evil people in this world. He calls them demons, monsters. There are people that are so corrupt, so evil - the world would be a better place without them, certainly."

"You don't seem to agree with his methods?" Luke asked shrewdly.

Harry shifted his feet. Bill was looking at him again. Harry wasn't sure how to say his next words in front of the man whose words he'd read. "Does Bill truly believe that the only way to rid the world of...to use his word, demons...is by committing murder? Doesn't - doesn't that make him - isn't that stooping down to the level of the those who are evil in the first place?"

Luke's knowing smile dropped, and Harry's stomach plummeted, but Luke took a deep breath before he said, "Back when I was a cop, Harry, we had a unit. They were the people we called when the criminals were dangerous in a way that bordered on insane. They were considered the best of the best, the people who did what had to be done to keep innocent lives safe. Sometimes the end justifies the means."

"But that's different," Harry objected.

"It's only different because you prefer to hurt the weak, the innocent," Luke threw at him. "You don't have the guts to go after the real evil of the world."

Luke's tone had been full of contempt, and Harry clenched his hands, his stomach knotted with tension. What did Luke mean by that? "I'm in law enforcement myself," he countered, trying but failing to keep his voice even. "I've seen plenty of evil in my years, and have taken many criminals off the streets."

"You haven't done much, then," Luke said with disdain. "My Bill has done more than you ever have. He's been going after the demons of the world. The demons that hurt and abuse people and get away with it. And with the help of his many informants, he's done a damn sight more good than you - "

"Are you so blinded by your love for your son that you're defending murder?" Harry asked, incredulous.

Luke snorted. "Don't be so shocked, Harry. You have never known the love a father has for his child, you wouldn't understand. There is nothing on Earth, Heaven, or Hell, that would make me turn away from my son - "

"Yet you abandoned him as a child," Harry broke in, furious. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. How had he not seen the sickness inside this man before?

Luke stood up, breathing heavily, and Harry followed, prepared for anything, but Luke just looked at him, fuming. "My son knows I love him," he said fiercely. "I have made sure of it. I have protected him ever since I read his words. I have followed the instructions in his journals to the letter, I have made this world and my Bill safe, and I will continue to do so as long as I am alive. My Bill will never again know the kind of abuse that his Mother put him through."

"Are you saying..." Harry shook his head to clear it, scarcely able to believe the confession he was hearing. "Did you kill that man in the park?"

Luke shrugged. "He was yelling at his wife in the park a few days before. Abusers don't deserve to live. I made the world safer and saved his wife the trouble of a divorce."

"You don't know that!" Harry cried out. "You're assuming things, Luke!"

"I'm not a fucking amateur," Luke shouted at him. He took a deep breath before he said in a calmer tone, "I have a contact in the London Police Department. They told me that the piece of shit excuse for a human being was a known abuser and suspected of multiple sexual assaults. I did the world a favour, lad."

Harry backed away slowly. This man was crazy. He needed to get out of here. Luke laughed at him. "Oh no you don't," he said. Harry tried to bolt, but Luke was too quick: He grabbed him and pressed him up against the wall. "How does it feel," he taunted. "How does it feel to be utterly helpless?"

I'm not helpless, Harry thought. He tried to move his hand to reach for Jerry's wand in his pocket, but Luke's hand caught him and held him fast. "Think back," Luke said quietly, his voice made of steel. "Did you ever treat Colin this way? Did you ever make him feel helpless?"

Harry froze in his attempts to break free, and his eyes snapped to Luke's. A wall seemed to fall in the depths of Harry's mind and he cried out in pain as a memory resurfaced. "That's it, Harry," Luke said soothingly. "Think back. Remember."

"You couldn't possibly know - " Harry tried to speak, but Luke silenced him with a look so cold Harry could swear his blood froze.

"Bill had informants, Harry. And I have used this to my advantage. My contact in the London Police Department has told me some very interesting things. Apparently you were arrested recently for the murder of your boyfriend."

Harry tried to process this, his mind split between the pain from Luke's rough hands holding him in place and attempting to solve the puzzle put forth, and it took him several moments before he remembered a case, several years ago, that he'd worked to solve with the help of a squib who worked as a muggle policeman. Squibs often bridged the distance between their worlds, working in the muggle world but acting as hidden emissaries to the magical one. He filed the information away and focused on the issue at hand. "I didn't do it," he told Luke petulantly.

"You can't lie to me," Luke said. "My contact was in touch today. Said you'd been sentenced to some psyche ward, that you were so sick you didn't seem to know that you'd done anything wrong."

"I didn't do anything! I love Colin, I'd never hurt him! Some demon did it, not me!"

"You hurt him," Luke said with conviction, a wild look in his eye. "You hurt him, and you killed him. And you're going to die for it, Harry. You're never going to hurt anyone ever again. You're the demon here. Demons deserve to die."

"I'm not a demon," Harry forced out, resuming his struggle to get free.

"Yes you are," Luke said. "You're going to die tonight, Harry. You're going to die, and Bill is going to watch, and as you bleed out my Bill will grow stronger, my Bill will take another step at coming back to himself, back to me -"

"You're insane," Harry threw at him.

"Insane, am I?" Luke sounded amused. "I've showed Bill the videos of my demon kills. I make sure they confess before they die, make sure they know exactly why they are going to die. The last one Bill saw in person. My son is never more alive than when he watches a demon drain in front of him."

Harry struggled harder, trying to reach the wand, but Luke held him tighter. "An intruder broke into my house," he said in a sing-song voice. "I killed the intruder in self-defence. It's not a lie. Demons are intruders."

Harry tried to think his way out, wishing he'd done better in the wandless magic training in Auror Academy. "I think you just like killing," he said, trying to distract Luke. "I think you have this itch, and Bill is just an excuse. You're no better than your ex-wife."

Luke's arm pushed against Harry's windpipe, choking him. "It takes one to know one, Harry."

Harry struggled to breathe, fighting desperately against Luke. His eyes cast about, searching for something he might be able to reach for, but saw nothing except Bill who was looking straight at him, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips, and Harry knew at once that Bill was enjoying this -

"Father."

One word. It was just one word. But it was enough. Luke's attention immediately turned on his son, and Harry capitalized on his distraction by plunging his hand into his pocket for Jerry's wand. Luke stopped him, trapping his hand in his pocket, and Harry was so livid he saw red and started to shake. A light bulb popped, and Luke looked around at the sound before he was abruptly blasted off his feet. His head hit the edge of a large wooden table the TV sat on several feet away, and Harry stared. He hadn't had an accidental magic incident quite like that before - oh shit. Harry looked at Bill.

"I must say, I had my doubts at first," Bill said, the lilt of an English accent barely perceptible, and shivers spiked through Harry at hearing the silent man speak at last.

"Doubts?" he questioned, unable to think of anything else.

"You are a demon," Bill said matter-of-factly. "Only demons have powers such as you have displayed."

"I'm not..." Harry stopped at the look the other man gave him.

"You'll have to forgive my dear Father," Bill said. "I fear he has gotten rather carried away, trying to impress me. He seemed to fancy himself my saviour. How boring."

Harry disregarded this. "I have so many questions," he breathed.

"I know," Bill said dismissively. "Father told me that he'd seen your boy at the park one day. He had 'accidently' left my journal for him to find, in the hopes that you would read it."

Harry slid down the wall. "How did he know who Colin was?"

Bill waved a hand flippantly. "You and your boy frequented that park. So did my Father. You do the math."

"What happened at the end of that journal?" Harry blurted out, unable to stop the question any longer. "The sentence just left off in the middle, there was nothing else, what happened?"

"Curious demon, aren't you," Bill mused, regarding him with interest. "I suppose I do owe you, after all." Harry frowned, and Bill saw his confusion and elaborated his point. "You talked to me as though I were able to answer back. You read to me. You didn't know they were my words, but you read them to me. And I remembered as you read. I remembered my reason for living."

"Killing demons?" Harry said.

"You're a smart one," Bill said approvingly. "I like a challenge."

"Tell me what happened," Harry said, breathless with impatience.

Bill rose and slowly walked over to where Harry was, his steps hesitant, as though he was unused to walking. When he at last stood in front of Harry, he held out his hand. Harry took in Bill's expression, confident and serene, and feeling reckless and overwhelmed with curiosity, he reached up to grasp Bill's hand. Bill pulled him up. Without speaking, he lead him away.

They walked through a hallway, passing multiple rooms, before Bill stopped at a closed door with a large wooden cross on it. He opened it, and Harry walked through. This had to be Bill's room. The walls were littered with the same drawings that had once hung on the walls of the room Bill occupied in Homes for Hope. Bill let go of Harry and pointed at one of the drawings on the wall. This one was new. It depicted two men with their backs turned away from each other. One man was facing a dark shadowed outline of a person. The other man was facing a woman sitting in a chair, her face twisted, from pain or anger Harry couldn't tell. Some sort of cloudy mist appeared to be rising from the woman's body, floating above her. What caught Harry's eye the most was the way the two men each reached behind them, their hands reaching for each other but not quite touching.

"What's this?" he asked.

"That is what happened that night," Bill responded.

Harry looked at him. "Explain," he said.

Bill walked over to the double-paned glass window, his gaze trained outside but his expression turned inward, and Harry settled himself on the edge of the bed as Bill began to speak.

"I was writing in my journal when I heard it. My Mum was speaking to someone. She sounded upset, afraid. I heard a voice call out my name. I knew the voice. I should have known my monster would do something unexpected. I went downstairs. There he was, smug as hell. And behind him stood the other monster. The monster who made him."

"Canice Lawson and Sean Kassidy," Harry guessed.

"Very good," Bill said, his approval apparent. "You remembered."

"Continue," Harry said.

"I'm ashamed to admit I was easy to subdue," Bill said quietly. "Canice walked up to me, this look in his eyes like he wanted to ravish me. I was so caught up in that look he was able to shove the chloroform in my face. Everything went dark."

Harry held his breath, waiting. Bill shook his head, his hand reaching to touch the window as though to steady himself.

"When I came to, I'd been tied to the bed frame and gagged. My Mum was tied up too, sitting on the end of the bed. They hadn't bothered tying her to anything. They knew she couldn't walk. Canice was in the room. He came up to me. Whispered in my ear. You want this, he told me. He left the room. When he came back Sean was with him. What happened next...well, you can imagine. It wasn't pretty. They made me watch while they cut into her skin. I don't think I'll ever forget her screams."

Harry found himself leaning forward, his breath shallow. Bill was silent for a long time. Harry wondered if he was doing this on purpose, if he was drawing out the explanation to torment him.

"When they were finished. Sean left the room. I could hear him showering in the next room. Canice stood there. Watching me. And my Mum. Mum was too far gone. We both knew it. They'd tied her to the end of the bedpost because they didn't want her to slide to the floor. She kept whispering to me. Over and over. I'll never leave you. I'll always be with you."

Bill took a deep breath. Harry watched him control his emotions. He didn't know what to feel, didn't know what he should feel. But he needed to know.

"Sean came back. Your turn, he said to me. Canice stopped him. This wasn't the plan, he said. My Abberline lives. Sean didn't pay him any mind. He pushed him away. I heard Canice's head bounce off the wall. Then the knife that had cut Mum was slowly dragged across my skin. I know I cried out. I kept my eyes on Canice the whole time. God I wanted to die, wanted the pain to be over. Time lost meaning. There was only pain. Pain, and my monster's eyes. The world got fuzzy, the more blood I lost. As a police officer yourself, you should understand that feeling of going to work and knowing that today could be the day you die. I'd long ago made peace with that. But this. I wasn't prepared. Wasn't ready to die. I wished for death as I felt the pain, oh yes. But I wasn't ready."

Harry thought he could guess what happened next. The pieces were coming together in his mind, arranging themselves like a jigsaw puzzle, and he could picture them in his mind's eye.

"As I neared to the point of blacking out, I saw Canice. Sean wasn't paying him one bit of attention. That was his mistake. Canice pulled a gun out of his boot. Shot Sean in the head. No hesitation. I heard him call an ambulance while he cleaned up the mess. The smell of bleach hurt my nostrils. We'll meet again my dear Inspector, he told me. I felt his hand on my cheek. I was too weak to respond. He left. I waited for the ambulance. Mum was long gone. I could still hear her. Telling me she'd always be with me."

Harry was silent as the story came to a close. Bill turned away from the window and took a step closer to him. Harry could see he was sweating heavily. "My Father told you that the police think Sean is the Dollmaker. That they still don't know who shot Sean."

"Are they correct? Is Sean the Dollmaker?" Harry asked.

"Think Harry," Bill whispered. "What did my monster tell me?"

Harry thought back. "We'll meet again my dear Inspector," he said out loud, slowly. "So then - you were right? Canice is the Dollmaker?"

Bill turned back to the window. "Does it really matter?" he said softly. "He freed me from my demon. He made a damn good try at freeing himself from his own demon. He's proven himself worthy. I owe him now. I must finish what he started."

"Finish what he started?" Harry questioned, unsure what Bill meant.

"Sean must die completely. While he still lives, even if only by machines, my monster cannot truly be mine. He must be as free as I am. We must work together to hunt down and destroy the demons of the world."

"You're mad," Harry whispered. "Utterly mad."

"Oh my little demon, on the contrary," Bill said, his face lighting up in amusement. He stepped closer. "It is the rest of the world that is mad. They have forgotten what it means to be afraid. They are blind to the evil that walks among them. But I know. I can see it. I will cleanse the world. Destroy those who slaughter the innocent."

Harry shook his head. Bill stepped closer, until he was standing right in front of where Harry sat. "But how could I expect you to see this? You're one of them, after all."

"One of them?"

"A demon," Bill said with surprise. "You hurt your boy. You killed an innocent."

"I didn't - "

"Don't lie," Bill said. He took hold of Harry's hair and jerked him up. Harry cried out in shock and pain, and he felt a wall inside fall. He struggled to push away the memories but they pushed back, his brain battling as Bill held on to him, and he cried out as he watched himself pull Colin closer to him, heard the echo of Colin's pleas to let go, the desperate gasps of air, and he screamed. "I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry Colin!"

"Good demon," Bill praised. "You see now?"

Harry saw. He didn't want to. But the memory replayed over and over, and he started to cry. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, over and over.

"You'll never get the chance to tell him," Bill said. "You'll burn for what you've done. Or freeze. None of us know what horror lies in Hell, after all."

Harry's mind cleared as he looked up into Bill's sweat slicked face. "You don't know who you're dealing with," he said. "I'm not going to die today. I'll tell everyone who you are, I'll tell everyone what you're going to do."

Bill laughed at him. "No one would believe you. You're nothing but a delusional freak. You have no one, you have nothing, you are nothing but a filthy demon."

Harry's hand plunged into his pocket. Without waiting to draw Jerry's wand, he shouted Stupefy! and watched as the spell hit Bill in the leg. Bill looked at him, shocked, before falling over, and Harry stood above him, breathing heavily, tears still dripping down his face.

He didn't know how long he stood there before he blinked and his brain started to work again. He looked down at the wand. Shit. Auror wands could be tracked. Came in handy during a raid, but right now it was just a matter of time before he was found.

He dropped the wand and ran. Where could he go? Where would they not look for him? His mind raced with the possibilities. I just want to go home. Home! He apparated immediately, and Grimmauld Place was visible only a moment later. He stepped in. The door shutting behind him seemed to be a signal of some sort: A dusty figure materialized in front of him, and Harry recognized it to be some sort of imitation of Colin. "Harry Potter!" the figure cried out, and Harry screamed. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry Colin!"

The figure didn't speak again, but hovered there, staring at him. Harry cowered on the doormat, pleading with the dust. "I didn't know what I was doing, I was hurting Colin, I was hurting - I'm so sorry!"

"I thought you might come back here," another voice said, and Harry looked up to see Ron standing at the top of the stairs, his wand raised. The dust swirled away and disappeared as Ron flicked his wand, and Harry watched it go, his hand reaching to touch the wisps as they faded.

"Why did you attack those muggles, Harry?"

Harry looked at Ron. "They're murderers, both of them," he said. "They deserved it."

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical of you, Harry?" Ron said, irony heavy in his tone. "There is no evidence either one of them are killers, given anything in that house."

"They are!" Harry loudly insisted. "You have to go back - Bill - Luke - they're crazy, they're killers!"

Ron didn't respond to his statements. "Why did you do it, mate? Colin didn't deserve that."

The memory pressed down on Harry, the walls closing in, and he burst into tears again, covering his face in his hands. "I didn't mean to, Ron," he gulped out. "I'm not a demon, I'm not a bad person, I didn't mean to."

Ron sighed. "I'm sorry," he said.

Harry looked up at him, wiping his eyes. "Why?" he choked out.

Ron didn't answer, instead sending a spell at him, and Harry found himself tightly bound with rope. "I'm so sorry I didn't see how much you were hurting. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, mate."

Harry closed his eyes. The look Ron was sending him was too painful to see. "Don't take me there, Ron, please don't take me there, I'll be good I promise."

"It's too late for that, Harry." Ron walked down the stairs and took a hold of his arm. "I'm sorry."

Harry tried to struggle, his mouth sending a stream of words at Ron that he didn't even fully understand, pleading with him, but Ron waved his wand again, silencing him. Harry shot him a murderous glare as Ron apparated them away.

Only minutes later, Harry found himself closed into a room in the secure prisoner's wing in Homes for Hope. The walls were white and padded, and Harry screamed in anger and frustration as he pounded at the padded door.

Harry didn't know it, but Ron sat just outside, listening to Harry's screams, his hand pressed to his mouth as tears streamed unchecked.

How had his best mate changed so much without him knowing?

Harry didn't know how long it had been.

Time had no meaning.

The door had opened once. Some random witch had brought food. He'd rushed at her. Tried to get out of the room. It hadn't worked. He'd sat staring at the door for what might have been hours. Or minutes. Or years.

Time had no meaning.

The idea had occurred to him. Stuck wandering around his brain. Perhaps he could get out of this room. If he could only get out. Get out of this room. Colin would be waiting. Colin would look at him with those brown eyes and tell him everything was going to be alright. We'll find out who killed me together, he'd say. Everything will work out, you'll see.

He had stood up. Started feeling his way around the room. It had calmed him. Given him something to focus on. He was almost done now. His patience had not been rewarded. The white padded walls were impenetrable. He had no wand. No tools. He was alone in this room.

Alone. Alone.

Where was that sound coming from? The echo of a voice.

Alone. Alone. No. No. No.

Oh. Was that his voice? He watched as if from far away as his hands slid along the walls, the disembodied voice that sounded like him low, even, broken, repetitive.

Mustn't. Can't. Won't.

He was seven. "Pay attention boy," Uncle Vernon told him. "See how the bacon looks? Take it out now. You mustn't burn the bacon."

He walked away. Harry had tried to do as asked. Dudley had walked in then, pushed Harry to the ground. "Out of my way," he'd said.

Harry tried not to cry. He picked himself up and almost did cry. The bacon was burned. He'd been locked in the cupboard for a week.

He was a teenager. There were no bars on his bedroom now, hadn't been in years, but it made no difference. There was nowhere to go. Never had been. For one shining moment he'd thought there would be. Two years ago he'd thought he'd have a chance at a real family. But Sirius was lost to him forever, not even a shred of him left to visit, no grave to see. He couldn't ever have what he wanted. He could never have the family he desperately wanted. He could escape this house. But doing so wouldn't allow him to escape the realities of his life, the pain and misery and darkness that was hidden beneath his well-adjusted exterior. He couldn't live the way he had longed for his whole life. He couldn't. He wasn't dealt the hand he wanted.

He was eighteen. "It's helped me, Harry. Maybe - you should consider it too?"

It was a year after the war. So much pain and anger. No one ever talked about what happens after a war. No one ever told him the struggle to survive would last longer than Voldemort's life. Hermione had struggled too. Talked about it with both of them. And then a Mind Healer. She was moving on. Finding peace. Why couldn't that work for him?

"I'm fine, Hermione. I'm doing well at the Academy. Gin and I are happy. Life is good."

The nightmare is over. The war is gone. If he doesn't think about it, all will be well. He won't think about his pain. He won't think about the rage. He won't think about the guilt. He won't. If he doesn't think about it, he'll be just fine.

Harry was breathing heavily as he finished his inspection of the padded walls. There was nothing. No way out. No way to escape. Frustration built. He pounded on the walls. Let me out, he screamed. He wasn't sure if he had said it out loud or if it was all in his head. But wasn't it all the same?

Let me out let me out let me out!

Luke was the monster. Bill was the monster. Not him. Not him. Colin would tell him. Colin would believe him. Colin loved him. Harry wasn't a demon. He was a little broken, perhaps, but weren't they all? Hadn't the war left them all lost, broken?

He was fine. He was perfectly fine. I'm fine, he tried to shout. Did the words leave his lips? He couldn't tell. He slid to the floor. Even the ground beneath him was padded, soft, almost comfortable. He couldn't sit still. He rocked gently back and forth. His arms cradled his legs.

Mustn't. Can't. Won't.