Harry wasn't alone.

Not really.

At first, he thought it was just paranoia. The weight of too many eyes on him, the lingering effects of the whispers curling in his mind. But then he started seeing it.

A shadow.

Not attached to anything. Not cast by the torches in the halls, not flickering against the walls like the others. This one moved differently—deliberately.

Watching. Waiting.

And the worst part?

It felt… comforting.

Like it belonged there.

Like it had always been there.

"You're distracted," Theo muttered, voice low as they walked through the castle.

Harry blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Just thinking."

Theo's jaw tightened. "About?"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't told anyone about the shadow. It was one thing to acknowledge the whispers in his dreams, to joke about his bloodline with Theo, but this?

This was different.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "It's probably nothing."

Theo gave him a sharp look. "Nothing?"

Harry exhaled, debating, then muttered, "I keep seeing something."

Theo stopped walking.

"What kind of something?"

Harry shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "A shadow. But it moves differently. Like it's… alive."

Theo's expression darkened. "Where?"

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. "That's the thing—it's always there."

Theo didn't respond right away.

Then, very slowly, he said, "Harry, shadows don't just follow people."

Harry smirked. "Maybe I'm just special."

Theo didn't smile.

Instead, his grip on his wand tightened.

Because Harry was special.

And if something was following him? If something was watching from the darkness?

Then Theo was going to find out what it was.

And he was going to destroy it before it could take his Harry away.

But deep in the shadows, where Theo couldn't see, Death watched.

Silent. Patient.

Protective.

Theo didn't sleep that night.

He should have. He should have treated this like any other mystery, like something that could be solved with logic and research. But this was Harry, and Theo didn't take risks where Harry was concerned.

Because if something was following Harry, something that even he couldn't see, then it was a problem.

A problem that needed to be eliminated.

Harry noticed the change immediately.

Theo was always protective—hovering too close, stepping between him and potential threats—but now it was worse.

Now, Theo's hand never strayed far from his wand.

Now, Theo's gaze flickered to the shadows every few minutes, his body tense like he was expecting something to emerge.

Now, Theo was waiting for a fight.

Harry smirked, nudging him as they walked through the dim corridors of the dungeons. "You're brooding again."

Theo didn't even blink. "I don't brood."

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. "Right. And I'm the Minister for Magic."

Theo ignored him, gaze flicking to the far end of the corridor, where the torches didn't quite reach.

Where something moved.

Theo saw it.

Just for a second. A flicker of something dark, curling at the edges of the light before retreating into nothingness.

His grip on Harry's arm tightened.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Careful, Theo. People might think you like me."

Theo turned his head slowly, meeting Harry's gaze. His fingers lingered for a moment longer before he let go.

"Harry," he said, voice too quiet.

Harry's smirk faltered.

Because Theo only ever said his name like that when things were serious.

"You are mine," Theo murmured, dark eyes unreadable. "No one else's. Nothing else's."

Harry blinked. "Theo—"

But Theo wasn't looking at him anymore.

He was looking at the shadows behind him.

At something Harry couldn't see.

The shadow didn't move.

It could have. It could have let itself be seen, let itself remind them both of what it was, of why it was there.

But Death was patient.

Death waited.

Because Harry Potter belonged to it first.

And not even Theo Nott could change that.

Theo didn't like things he couldn't control.

And this?

This was something beyond control.

He could feel it now—watching, waiting, curling just at the edge of his senses. A presence that should not be there, lurking in the spaces between light and dark.

And the worst part?

Harry didn't notice.

Harry, who always noticed everything, was utterly unaware of the shadow clinging to his steps like a loyal hound.

Like it belonged there.

Like it had a right to be there.

Theo clenched his jaw.

No.

Harry was his.

And whatever this thing was? It needed to understand that.

That night, Theo stayed awake again.

Not that Harry knew.

Harry had fallen asleep easily, breathing slow and steady in the quiet of the dormitory. The flickering green fire from the common room cast dim light through the doorway, painting everything in shifting shadows.

And Theo waited.

He didn't know what he was waiting for.

He only knew that something was wrong.

And then, just before dawn—

The torches flickered.

The temperature in the room dropped, the air suddenly thicker, heavier. The kind of silence that came before something inevitable.

And there—at the foot of Harry's bed—

The shadow moved.

Theo was on his feet in an instant, wand raised, magic coiled tightly at his fingertips. His breath was sharp, but his voice was calm.

"If you're here for him," Theo murmured, quiet and lethal, "you're going to be disappointed."

The darkness shifted.

Not recoiling. Not retreating.

Considering.

Theo's grip on his wand tightened. He wasn't afraid—he didn't fear things he didn't understand. He destroyed them.

But then—

The whisper came.

Low. Amused. Ancient.

"You misunderstand, little heir."

Theo's blood ran cold.

Because it wasn't a voice.

It wasn't something spoken aloud.

It was something inside his mind.

Something that had always been there.

And before he could react—before he could demand to know what it meant—

The shadow disappeared.

Gone.

Like it had never been there at all.

But Theo knew the truth.

It had always been there.

And it wasn't going to leave.

Because Harry wasn't just followed by Death.

He was claimed by it.

And for the first time in his life, Theo didn't know how to fight it.