"Welcome homeses Mistress, Master and little Masters." He hears, looking away from James to look at the house elf. He can't help but smile at the sight, the elf looks so happy, it's pillow case clean and ironed, the Potter crest above her heart. He notes she looks young, probably not fully grown yet before taking in the entrance hall.
This must be Potter Mansion, he thinks, looking at the sweeping staircases on both sides of the room and the beautiful chandelier hanging above him.
"Thank you Lilpey," his mom says. "Truthfully, I was getting a bit sick of St Mungos, so I'm glad to be home," she ends smiling softly at the elf.
His center of gravity shifts momentarily as his mom bends down, handing him off to his older brother and fixing his hand placements. James pulls him closer, holds him a bit tighter, and it's warm. Comfortable.
He falls asleep with a hand holding onto the front of the boy's shirt, to James telling him how he's gonna be the best big brother
"James! Harry! Come here you two, we have guests."
The two boys glance at each other for a moment, before James drops the toy in his hand and Harry drops the book in his, being a bit more careful than James was when placing it on his bed. He watches fondly as James runs out of his bedroom, the thump thump of the boy bounding down the marble stairs. Harry follows him at a more sedate pace, making sure to close his bedroom door behind him.
He grabs the railing as he walks down the stairs, and he's grateful he did seconds later when he sees just who the visitors are. His breath catches in his throat and it feels like the world stopped moving.
Is that? Is he mine?
He waits with baited breath for Death to respond before hearing the tell-tale signs, a world burns, a building blows up, the sound of leave-less trees crashing into each other.Of course, Master, you happy is my utmost priority.
The world starts moving again and he has to force the fact that he's on the verge of a breakdown to the back of his brain. He can cry later, but not in front of his family and guests. Not about this.
He walks down the stairs a bit faster, anything to be within touching distance of Sirius. Of his Siri.
He comes to a stop next to his older brother, eyes not leaving the black haired boy standing a bit in front of a young Regulus.
Harry drinks him in, the color of his skin, of his eyes, the length of his hair. It's been so long. So fucking long since he'd last seen him - since hedied.
"Boys," he faintly hears his mother say, "this is Walburga and Orion Black and their sons Sirius and Regulus."
He doesn't even have to look at James to see how uncomfortable he is.
He looks away from Sirius, regretting it immediately, to look at the screeching women he only remembers from the painting. "Can they come up to our rooms Mrs. Black?"
He notes how her face scrunches up a bit, disgust rolling off her in waves as she tries to hold back from screaming. He smiles at her, more creepy than it is cute, at least on a six-year-old. He smiles a bit wider as a shudder wracks through her body, as Death curls his hands almost painfully so on her shoulders.
"Yes! Yes, that's fine." She shouts and then promptly mutters. "Just get the demon brat away from me."
He lets his eyes darken as he looks at her, eyes not leaving hers even as he tugs at his brother's hand to go back up the stairs. He waits for the sound of his brother closing his bedroom door before turning around but not without letting his smile turn a bit more bloodthirsty as he gazes at her.
After all, the overwhelming hatred calling for her blood that coursed through him whenever he thought of the women didn't just evaporate overnight just because he was reborn into a different body.
It probably didn't help that he'd dealt with the women's infernal screeching for over ten years along with the stories Sirius had told him when the two couldn't sleep, not with the darkness looming around them at all times. Like called to like after all, and it just so happened that their families growing up weren't exactlyloving.