Snow fell gently outside the Potter household, covering the garden in a thick, white blanket. Inside, however, the warmth of the holidays was absent. The house, usually brimming with excitement when Jimmy and Rose returned home from Hogwarts, now felt cold, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

Jimmy was the first to sense it, the moment he and Rose stepped through the front door. Their laughter, which had echoed through the entryway only moments before, quickly died. There was no welcoming hug from Lily, no teasing grin from James. The house was quiet, unnervingly so, and something dark and foreboding hung in the air.

"Dad?" Jimmy called hesitantly, exchanging a glance with Rose.

James stood by the fireplace, his posture stiff, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames. His hands rested on the mantel, white-knuckled, as if he were holding onto something far heavier than it appeared. He looked up when the children entered, his face a grim mask. "Come sit down," he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual warmth.

Lily appeared from the hallway, pale and withdrawn, her hands wringing nervously in front of her. She avoided their eyes as she took a seat next to James on the worn sofa. The tension in the air was suffocating, and the familiar warmth of home was replaced by a cold, eerie silence.

Jimmy and Rose sat on the couch across from their parents, their earlier cheer now long forgotten. Rose clutched her brother's sleeve, her eyes wide with confusion and concern. The silence dragged on, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire.

Finally, Lily spoke, her voice trembling. "There's something we need to tell you both," she began, her eyes flicking between Jimmy and Rose. "It's about Harry."

At the mention of his twin brother's name, Jimmy felt a sharp pang in his chest. He had thought he was prepared for anything concerning Harry, especially after seeing him fall to the Dementor's Kiss. But the look on his parents' faces told him that whatever came next was worse than he could have imagined.

"We thought we lost him," James said, his voice rough, as though each word pained him. "We thought that after the Kiss... that was it."

Jimmy clenched his fists. "But he's dead, right? His soul... it's gone," he said, his voice sharper than he intended. He had watched as Harry's soul was ripped from his body; he had mourned him, though the pain had never truly left.

Lily flinched at his words, tears welling in her eyes. "Not exactly," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Rose's brow furrowed, her confusion deepening. "What do you mean, Mum? If Harry's not dead, then where is he?"

James sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, as if the weight of his grief was too much to bear. "His body… it's still alive."

Jimmy's stomach churned. "What?" he breathed. "How?"

Lily nodded, her hands trembling. "A few weeks after the trial, after the Kiss, we found him. His body… it was moving."

Jimmy felt like the ground had fallen out from under him. "You're saying his body is walking around? Like some kind of—puppet?"

Lily's breath hitched. "Yes. It's worse than that. There's a bond—a dark ritual that Voldemort used. Harry's body is bound to me now. He obeys everything I say."

Jimmy's heart raced as a shadow shifted in the corner of the room. He turned, and there—standing in the corner like a hollow shell—was Harry. His eyes were empty, his face devoid of any expression, a pale and horrifying reflection of the brother Jimmy had once known. Harry stood stiffly, motionless, his head slightly tilted to the side as if he were waiting for a command.

"Sit down, Harry," Lily whispered, her voice trembling.

Without a sound, Harry's body obeyed, mechanically sitting in the corner of the room. He stared blankly ahead, unmoving. Jimmy's stomach twisted at the sight—it was like watching a doll, a lifeless imitation of the sweet, gentle brother he had loved.

"How can you keep him like this?" Jimmy asked, his voice trembling with both grief and fury. "This isn't right, Mum. This isn't Harry anymore."

Rose, her voice trembling, looked between her parents. "Can't we bring him back? Isn't there a way to fix this?"

Lily shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, Rose. His soul is gone. Breaking the bond would kill him."

Jimmy shot to his feet, unable to contain his anger any longer. "So what, we just keep him like this? Like some... puppet? That's not Harry! He deserves more than this!"

James placed a hand on Jimmy's shoulder, his voice quiet but firm. "Son, we didn't know what else to do. We didn't want to lose him entirely."

Rose sobbed quietly. "But… he's still our brother. We can't just let him go."

Jimmy's fists clenched at his sides, his heart aching with the weight of his grief. "That's not him! Not anymore!" His voice cracked with emotion. "This is Voldemort's doing. He took Harry from us, and now you're keeping him like this?"

Lily flinched, but she didn't back down. "I won't lose him again, Jimmy."

Jimmy shook his head in disbelief. "Mum, Harry's gone. This—this isn't him anymore. He's trapped. You're keeping him in this... nightmare, and it's not fair."

Lily's voice trembled, but there was a fierce determination in her eyes. "I can't let him go. Not after everything. Do you have any idea what it was like? Watching him, knowing I couldn't protect him, that I failed him—"

"Mum," Jimmy cut in, his voice rising. "This isn't about you! Harry wouldn't want this! He deserves peace, not to be some puppet."

Lily's breath hitched, her voice filled with anguish. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't hate what's happened to him? But I can't—" Her voice broke, raw with emotion. "I can't let him go. He's still my son. He's still here."

Jimmy's anger faltered as he saw the depth of his mother's pain. He could see it now—this wasn't just about Harry. It was about a mother's desperate need to hold onto her child, even when there was nothing left to hold onto.

Rose, her voice trembling, looked between her parents. "Can't we bring him back? Isn't there a way to fix this?"

Lily shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I don't know, Rose. His soul is gone. Dumbledore said if we break the bond, he w-will die."

Lily's words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment, no one spoke. The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the stillness of the room. Jimmy's heart twisted painfully at the sight of his mother, her face pale and tear-streaked, worn by sleepless nights and endless sorrow. He wanted to tell her that it was enough, that keeping Harry like this wasn't helping anyone, least of all her. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw the depth of her desperation—a mother's unwillingness to let go, to accept that her child was truly lost. And in that moment, he understood. She wasn't holding onto hope. She was holding onto Harry, or at least what was left of him.

Lily's voice broke as she looked at her son. "I need one last Christmas with him," she said softly. "Just one more Christmas. As a family."

Rose sniffled, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Mum, if it helps you... we'll have one more Christmas with him. But after that… we have to let him go."

James finally spoke, his voice heavy with the weight of their shared grief. "We'll do Christmas, but we need to face the truth after that, Lily. This isn't a life for Harry."

Lily didn't answer immediately. She stared at Harry, her eyes filled with pain. "I just need time," she whispered. "I need to say goodbye. Properly."

Jimmy's jaw clenched, his anger giving way to a deep, hollow sorrow. He knew that nothing he said would change his mother's mind—not yet. "Fine," he muttered, his voice thick. "One last Christmas."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Harry sat in the corner, motionless, his empty gaze fixed on nothing. Jimmy couldn't bear to look at him for long. His brother—the sweet, gentle twin who had once been his closest companion—was gone, and all that remained was a hollow shell.

"I'm going to kill him," Jimmy whispered, his voice filled with quiet fury. "Voldemort. For what he did to Harry, I'm going to end him."

Lily's shoulders shook with silent sobs, and James closed his eyes, his face etched with grief. Rose leaned against Jimmy, her tears soaking into his sleeve. And Harry sat there, a silent reminder of all they had lost.

The family would have one last Christmas together, but Jimmy knew that after that, there would be no turning back. This was the beginning of the end—for Voldemort, for Harry, and for the pieces of their family that would never be whole again.

The dinner table was set, much like it had been in the old days. Plates were placed neatly before each seat, the smells of roasted chicken and vegetables wafting through the air. But despite the familiar setup, there was a heaviness in the atmosphere that made everything feel wrong, like they were pretending, playing house when the house had long since crumbled.

Lily sat at the head of the table, her movements shaky as she spooned food onto Harry's plate. Her hands trembled as she placed the spoon down, and she avoided looking directly at him, though it was impossible not to feel his presence—his hollow, unblinking gaze fixed on the center of the table.

"Harry," she said softly, her voice catching in her throat. "Eat your food."

"Yes, Mistress," came the monotone reply. Harry's hand moved in stiff, mechanical motions, picking up the fork. He stabbed it into the food, bringing it to his mouth in a way that mimicked the actions of a person, but there was no life behind it.

Jimmy watched in silence, his stomach twisting painfully. His brother was sitting right there, but this wasn't Harry. It was some twisted version of him, bound by magic, repeating orders like a mindless puppet.

Rose, seated next to Jimmy, stared at her plate, her fingers toying with her napkin. She kept glancing at Harry, her face pale and stricken. She tried, just as the rest of them did, to act normal—to pretend that they were having dinner like a family again. But none of them could shake the reality that nothing was normal, and nothing would ever be normal again.

"I made your favorite, Harry," Lily said, her voice faltering as she tried to smile. "You always loved chicken with gravy."

"Yes, Mistress," Harry replied, the same emotionless tone filling the space. He took another mechanical bite, his face still devoid of expression.

Jimmy couldn't take it anymore. His fork clattered loudly against his plate as he set it down, and the noise seemed to echo in the suffocating silence. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but his voice caught in his throat. The sight of his twin brother, so close and yet so impossibly far away, had rendered him speechless.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, Rose," he said, his voice strained. "How was school this term? Any classes giving you trouble?"

Rose jumped slightly at the question, her hands stilling in her lap. She forced a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Um… no, everything's fine," she replied quickly. "Professor McGonagall said I did well on my last Transfiguration essay."

"That's great," James replied, nodding as though he hadn't noticed the discomfort in her voice. "You've always been good at Transfiguration."

Jimmy remained silent, his gaze fixed on Harry, who continued to eat in robotic motions. The sound of the clinking silverware was unbearable, grating on his nerves. The strained conversation was a farce, just like everything else in the room.

"Jimmy," Lily said suddenly, her voice softer now, as if trying to draw him back into the moment. "Didn't you have a Quidditch match last week? How did that go?"

Jimmy didn't look up from his plate, his voice flat as he answered. "We won."

"That's wonderful," Lily said, trying to inject some cheer into her tone. "You must've been incredible, just like always."

Jimmy couldn't take it anymore. His fists clenched at his sides, and he forced himself to look up at his mother. "Mum," he said quietly, his voice trembling. "This… this isn't right."

Lily's smile faltered, her eyes flicking between Jimmy and Harry. "We're just trying to have dinner together, Jimmy. Like we used to."

"No," Jimmy said, his voice rising. "We're not. This isn't dinner. This isn't… Harry."

At his words, the table fell into a tense silence. Rose bit her lip, her eyes darting nervously between her brother and her mother, while James sat back in his chair, his face drawn and weary.

Lily's hands trembled as she set her fork down, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "Jimmy, please," she whispered. "He's still here. I just want one meal together. Can't we have that?"

Jimmy shook his head, his frustration bubbling over. "No, Mum. We can't. Harry's gone, and sitting here, pretending like everything's normal—it's not going to bring him back."

Lily's tears finally spilled over. "I just wanted us to be a family again, Jimmy," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I just wanted one dinner. One chance to feel like we're together."

Jimmy's chest tightened painfully at the sight of his mother breaking down, but he couldn't stop. "This isn't a family dinner, Mum. It's... it's a nightmare." His gaze shifted to Harry, who sat motionless, still staring straight ahead. "He's not Harry. You know that."

Lily flinched, her eyes moving to Harry. "I know," she whispered. "But I can't let go. Not yet. Not like this."

Jimmy's voice cracked as he spoke. "He's gone, Mum. And keeping him like this—it's cruel. It's cruel to him, and it's cruel to us."

Rose finally spoke, her voice shaking. "But… if we let him go, he's really gone. We won't have him anymore."

Jimmy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "We don't have him now, Rose. Look at him." His voice trembled with emotion as he looked at his twin, sitting lifeless at the table. "That's not Harry. Not the Harry we knew."

"Harry," Lily said, her voice soft and pleading. "Tell Jimmy you're still here."

Harry blinked, and in the same emotionless tone, he replied, "Yes, Mistress."

The words sent a sharp pain through Jimmy's heart. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I can't do this," he muttered, his voice low and filled with anguish. "I can't sit here and pretend."

Lily reached for him, her hand trembling. "Jimmy, please—"

"No," he snapped, stepping back from the table. "I won't be part of this. You're keeping him chained to this house, to this life, and it's not fair."

James remained silent, his face pale and drawn as he watched the scene unfold. Rose's tears spilled over as she covered her mouth, her small frame trembling with sobs.

"I just wanted one dinner," Lily whispered, her voice so small it was barely audible. "One night where we could be together again."

Jimmy's voice broke as he looked at his mother. "We can't ever have that, Mum. Not anymore."

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Harry sat motionless, staring at nothing, the soft clinking of the silverware the only sound in the oppressive stillness. The family was together, but they were farther apart than ever.

Jimmy swallowed hard, fighting back the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, before turning and walking out of the room, leaving behind the shattered remnants of his family.

As the door closed behind him, the sound of Harry's monotone voice echoed faintly in the background.

"Yes, Mistress," Harry had said.

But to Jimmy, it was just another reminder that his brother was gone.