Chapter 6
Disclaimer: I Don't own Harry Potter or Five Nights at Freddy's series
The 15th of April, 1988, dawned quietly over a world that knew little of the strange events unspooling behind the scenes. In Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex near London's outskirts, life had settled into a pleasant, if surreal, routine. For Harry, a week had passed since he first met his grandfather William face-to-face, and in that time, his confidence had blossomed. Each morning, he donned his beloved Vanny costume—now reclaimed as a symbol of comfort and play rather than fear—and greeted guests at the Pizzaplex's entrance with shy waves and muffled giggles. The customers adored him, charmed by his tiny figure half-hidden in oversized bunny sleeves. Parents cooed and children laughed, and Harry, still shy but no longer trembling with self-doubt, began to enjoy his role.
Vanessa watched over him like a proud guardian, and the animatronics—Roxanne, Montgomery, Chica, and Freddy—treated him like a cherished family member. They teased him gently, praised his bravery, encouraged him to interact with visitors, and watched, delighted, as he took baby steps toward self-assurance. The horrors of that first night had faded into distant memory. Harry was thriving, safe, and loved.
Meanwhile, William Afton, the digital phantom turned doting grandfather, had lingered for days longer than he originally intended. He hovered in the Pizzaplex's system, appearing to Harry at quiet moments, sitting invisibly in the rafters to watch Harry wave at delighted children, even helping Vanessa behind the scenes by smoothing out digital hiccups and ensuring staff schedules ran flawlessly. He savored every laugh that escaped Harry's lips, drank in every shy smile that graced the boy's face. He recorded these moments carefully, storing them in his digital mind as perfect holographic memories. Harry's happiness was a balm to William's weary soul.
Yet William knew he couldn't stay forever. His family in America awaited him—Clara, Elizabeth, Evan, and Michael—and he had promised to return. He had work to do: bridging memory gaps, strategizing against potential threats from the wizarding world, and finding a way to unite them all in the future. He intended to bring them proof of Harry's sweetness, to show them the boy who carried Lily's legacy forward. He wanted them to feel the same pride and joy he now felt.
On the morning of April 15th, William made his farewell rounds. He watched Harry greet the first wave of early visitors, wiggling the bunny ears of the costume and earning gentle laughter. The sunlight streaming through the atrium windows caught dust motes that drifted like confetti around the boy. William smiled to himself, invisible and intangible to everyone but those he chose to reveal himself to. He longed to stay, to bask in this carefree scene a while longer, but duty called.
At a quiet moment, he manifested briefly near Vanessa and Harry—just a flicker of his human form in a staff-only corridor. He had discarded his old Glitchtrap form entirely now. Instead, he appeared as he once was before the horrors: a handsome man in his late thirties, dark hair neatly parted, eyes warm but touched with sorrow and determination. The digital reconstruction of his old self had taken time to perfect, but he was satisfied with the result. He wanted to greet his family not as the monstrous glitch-bunny, but as the man they had once known—at least in appearance.
"Harry," he said softly, calling the boy's name once the hall was empty of bystanders.
Harry turned and lit up at the sight of him. "Grandpa!" he said, still clutching the bunny's oversized paw. He toddled closer.
Vanessa, who had stepped aside to check a supply closet, smiled at William. "Leaving?" she asked quietly, sadness in her voice.
William nodded. "Yes. I must go back to America," he explained. "I need to speak with my wife—your grandmother—and with your uncles and aunt. I have so much to tell them." He knelt, looking Harry in the eye. "I'll be back, Harry. I promise. Keep being as wonderful as you are."
Harry, a bit more confident now, grinned shyly and nodded. "I'll show them how happy I am if they come," he said softly. "Tell them I can't wait to meet them someday."
William's heart twisted. "I will." He reached out, hand hovering near Harry's cheek, not quite touching because his form was still intangible. The boy understood, leaning forward as if to receive a phantom kiss. "Be safe, my grandson."
Vanessa cleared her throat. "We'll be waiting," she said. "Travel safely, William." She was still wary, still aware of who he was and what he'd done in the past, but his efforts to protect Harry, to anchor him in legal and digital safety, had earned her cautious respect.
William stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you for everything, Vanessa. I'll return soon enough."
With that, he flickered and vanished from their sight.
Crossing the ocean as a digital spirit required no plane, no ship. William traveled through cables, signals, and archived data streams embedded deep within Fazbear systems. He moved swiftly, eager to share his experiences. He carried with him perfect holographic recordings of Harry's antics: the shy waves, the nervous giggles that turned into genuine laughter, the way customers lit up at seeing such a small child dressed as a plush bunny character.
During his last visit to America, William had managed to connect with his family members—Clara (now Ballora), Elizabeth (Circus Baby), Michael (moving between shells, restless), and Evan (tied to Golden Freddy). They were still scattered, haunted by partial memories and old pain. He had shown Elizabeth and Michael flickers of Lily's existence, reawakening their buried recollections. He had promised to return with more proof, to help them remember fully, and to introduce them to Harry's bright, hopeful future.
He emerged in a familiar, abandoned facility—a warren of old control rooms and dark corridors beneath what had once been a Fazbear rental service. This place had seen so much tragedy, but it remained a hidden hub where his family's spirits could gather. He sensed their presence: Circus Baby's quiet hum, Ballora's gentle music box tune echoing faintly, and the subtle energy that indicated Michael and Evan were near. They must have detected his arrival too. They were waiting.
He materialized in a large chamber that once held maintenance consoles. Pipes and wires crisscrossed overhead, and dust coated silent machinery. In the dim light, he took on his chosen human form, ensuring he looked his best—clean-shaven, hair neatly combed, clothing reminiscent of an era before everything went wrong.
A soft mechanical glide preceded Ballora's entrance. Clara—his wife—approached from the far end of the chamber, her elegant animatronic form spinning slowly, eyes closed as always, but aware of him through other senses. Behind her, Elizabeth's form as Circus Baby lurked near a wall, arms folded. Michael's presence flickered, half-formed, while Evan's energy lingered quietly in the shadows.
Elizabeth was first to speak, her mechanical voice laced with wary curiosity. "Back so soon, Father? Did you bring what you promised?"
William smiled broadly, unable to contain his excitement. "Oh, Elizabeth, I brought something better than I promised!" he declared. "You won't believe how wonderful Harry is—your nephew is perfect, adorable, beloved by everyone! I have recordings, holograms, memories—so much to show you!" He sounded like a proud parent, eager to show off baby pictures.
Evan's voice, soft and echoing, drifted from somewhere near the ceiling. "Harry... Lily's son," he murmured, as if testing the name. He sounded calmer than before, more present.
Michael's figure coalesced near a stack of crates. He had chosen a human-like appearance, though pale and hollow-eyed, wearing a security uniform from some bygone era. He crossed his arms. "All right, show us," he said. "I want to see the kid you keep talking about."
Before William could begin his grand presentation, Ballora—Clara—glided closer. She moved with measured grace, her posture regal. "William," she said in a deceptively sweet tone, her voice like honey laced with iron. "I can hear the smugness in your voice. Are you... bragging?"
William paused, a bead of phantom sweat forming at his temple. He knew that tone. "My darling Clara," he began carefully, "I'm just excited. Our grandson—"
Clara turned her head slightly, though her animatronic eyes remained closed. "Excited or bragging?" she asked, voice still sweet, but now with a sharp undertone. "Because it sounds like you're here to rub your exclusive bonding time in our faces."
Elizabeth snickered, impressed by how quickly her mother had cut to the heart of the matter. Evan giggled softly, and even Michael's stern posture relaxed with amusement.
"W-What?" William stammered. "No, I'm just... I wanted to share my joy with all of you. I thought you'd be happy to see Harry!"
Clara's mechanical form swayed to some internal rhythm. "Of course we want to see him," she said. "But I know that tone, William Afton. That's the tone you used to have after winning an argument, or after catching Michael sneaking out. That's your 'I know something you don't know and I'm better for it' tone."
William's jaw dropped. "I—I would never—! I mean, I'm just... He's so cute! He wears a bunny costume and waves at guests, and everyone loves him!" He realized too late he sounded even more boastful. "I thought you'd be proud!"
Elizabeth, arms still folded, leaned against the wall and grinned. "Oh, he's digging a hole now," she commented dryly.
Michael chuckled, a low sound. "Father, you might want to tread carefully."
Evan's soft laughter drifted from the corner. "Mom's got his number."
Clara let him flail a moment longer, tilting her head gracefully as if listening to a distant lullaby. She raised a hand and tapped a metallic fingertip against a panel thoughtfully. "So... you spent an entire week with our grandson. Without us. And now you come here bragging, showing off? Did it occur to you that we might be a bit envious? That we might feel left out?"
William's heart twisted. He hadn't considered it that way. He'd been so eager to share, to show how happy Harry was, that he'd completely overlooked the fact that his family, trapped far away, might feel jealous or hurt. "Clara, my love, I'm sorry," he said, voice earnest. "I didn't mean to show off. I just... I missed you all and wanted you to share my joy. I should have been more sensitive."
Clara remained silent for a moment, letting the tension build. The children watched with unabashed amusement. They knew their mother well: she was graceful, elegant, and terrifyingly good at making William squirm. And no matter how powerful William thought he was, no matter how many horrors he had unleashed in the past, when faced with Clara's displeasure, he was just another husband who'd stepped out of line.
Finally, Clara's voice turned saccharine-sweet. "Oh, William," she cooed, "So you're apologizing now, are you? How can I be sure you're sincere and not just trying to get out of trouble?" She took a step closer, and though she had no visible eyes, William could feel her gaze piercing him.
He swallowed. "I'm sincere," he insisted. "I want you all to meet Harry—well, at least to see him through my memories. I perfected a way to create holographic projections. You can watch him as if you were there. Please, Clara, let me show you. I promise I'm not trying to fuel jealousy. I want us all to love him together."
Clara pressed a hand to her chest with theatrical flair. "Well, since you're so eager, why not show us these memories now?" She paused, then added in a dangerously calm tone, "After we address the issue at hand."
William's phantom heart sank. "I—issue?"
Clara reached out, surprisingly swift, and seized him by the ear—his intangible, holographic ear, but apparently she had enough control to make it feel real to him. He yelped softly, caught off guard. The children gaped, then erupted into laughter.
"Honey," Clara said in a low, even voice, "You know one rule we had in our marriage? We share joys and sorrows equally. Now you come back after a week with Harry, and the first thing I sense is pride, like you won a prize we never got to see. That hurts, William."
He squirmed, embarrassment flooding him. "I'm sorry," he babbled. "I was just excited, I swear! I didn't mean to exclude you. Please, Clara—Ow!"
She twisted his ear gently. "An hour," she proclaimed. "I think we need a little talk. One hour of you listening while I explain how this made me feel."
An hour. The children's laughter intensified. Michael covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. Elizabeth's mechanical eyes (metaphorical, since the animatronic face had painted ones) seemed to twinkle with mirth. Evan's soft giggles echoed.
William, who had faced death, murder, and monstrous transformations, who had haunted code and animatronics for decades, now trembled before his wife's wrath. He nodded rapidly. "Yes, dear," he managed weakly.
"Good." Clara released his ear, but stood close, towering in her elegant animatronic form. "Come along," she said sweetly. "We'll go somewhere private so we don't bore the children with our marital discussion. Children, wait here. Your father and I need a word."
Elizabeth saluted mockingly, grinning. "Have fun, Dad."
Michael smirked. "Good luck, Father."
Evan giggled from the shadows, "Don't make Mom angrier."
William shot them a pleading look, but they offered no mercy. He followed Clara's form out of the chamber into a side corridor. His pride melted away, replaced by genuine remorse and a healthy dose of fear.
For the next hour, the children could hear Clara's voice—smooth, calm, but insistent—lecturing William. They couldn't make out all the words, but the tone told them everything. He'd stepped on a nerve, and now he had to pay the price. Occasionally, they heard William's meek attempts to apologize, followed by Clara's measured responses. The contrast between the fearsome William Afton and the henpecked husband was hilarious.
While they waited, the siblings exchanged glances and small talk. Evan ventured closer, taking on a semi-physical form reminiscent of his old self—a boyish outline with golden hints. Michael leaned against a wall, arms crossed, smirking. Elizabeth paced a bit, humming softly.
"Did you see Father's face when Mom grabbed his ear?" Elizabeth asked, trying to stifle laughter.
Michael nodded. "Priceless. He was so sure he'd impress us with those holograms. Guess he forgot who really runs the family."
Evan smiled shyly. "Mom always had a way of cutting him down to size," he said softly. "I remember when we were little, if he ever got too full of himself, she'd just give him that look."
Elizabeth snickered. "I kind of admire her. She's not letting him get away with anything, not even in death."
Michael nodded. "Agreed. But I am curious about these holograms. Harry must be something special if Father was that excited."
Evan's expression grew thoughtful. "He's Lily's son. That alone makes him special. But Father seemed genuinely happy. That's... rare. Maybe this child really does bring hope."
Elizabeth's mechanical eyes dimmed slightly as she considered this. "I want to see him," she said softly. "I want to remember Lily properly. Maybe seeing Harry will help."
Michael agreed quietly. "Yes, I'd like to know the nephew who's making Father act like a giddy fool."
Evan added, "I hope he's kind. We all need kindness."
They lapsed into silence, thinking of Lily, of lost memories, of a future that might be different from their past. The idea of Harry, safe and happy, made their existence feel less bleak. They wanted to see what Father had recorded.
Eventually, the hour ended. William returned, shoulders slumped, face drawn. Clara followed, graceful as ever, humming a lullaby that somehow sounded both sweet and triumphant. William cleared his throat. "I've... had some time to reflect," he said meekly, trying to regain his dignity.
Clara nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, why don't you show us these holograms you mentioned?"
William straightened, eager to move past his humiliation. "Yes, of course. Allow me."
He raised a hand, and a soft hum of energy filled the room. The siblings drew closer, intrigued. A shimmering holographic projection formed in midair, showing a scene from the Pizzaplex: Harry, wearing the oversized Vanny costume, peeking out from behind a pillar as a group of children approached. The resolution was perfect, every detail sharp. They could see Harry's big green eyes shining, the way he nervously fiddled with the costume's sleeve before waving shyly.
"He's so small," Elizabeth whispered, voice unusually gentle.
On the projection, Harry stepped forward, gave a tiny wave, and the customers gasped in delight. The laughter that followed was warm and genuine. Harry blushed, tried to hide behind a tall animatronic figure—Roxanne Wolf—who patted his head encouragingly.
Michael's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "He's shy but they love him."
Evan drifted closer, fascinated. "He looks... happy. Safe."
Clara watched quietly, drinking in every detail. Her anger at William's bragging had cooled, replaced by a tender longing. She reached out as if to touch Harry's holographic face. "He looks like Lily," she said softly. "Something about his eyes."
William nodded, relieved to see her reaction. "He's wonderful," he said earnestly, careful now not to sound smug. "He's kind, gentle, polite. He loves Vanessa and the animatronics who care for him. He's flourishing in that environment."
They watched as the holograms shifted to another scene: Harry approaching a birthday girl and offering her a shy wave. She giggled, gave him a piece of cake, and he tried a tiny nibble before blushing and hiding his face in the bunny sleeve again. The crowd's adoration was palpable.
Elizabeth smiled softly. "I've never seen Father so happy about something that didn't involve... darker matters," she said. "This is good. This is healthy."
Michael nodded slowly. "He's like a proud grandfather showing off baby photos," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I didn't think I'd ever see him like this."
Evan added quietly, "Harry might heal us."
Clara turned to William, voice calmer now, filled with a new warmth. "I can see why you were excited," she said gently. "He's precious, William. I'm glad you helped him. I'm glad you ensured he's safe."
William exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. "Thank you," he said softly. "And I'm sorry I came across as bragging. I was just so happy to share this with you. I want us all to love him. We deserve some joy after everything we've been through."
Clara stepped closer, placing a metallic hand on his shoulder. The children watched silently, the family's unity building again. "I understand," Clara said. "Just remember we're partners in this, husband. We share our blessings and burdens. Don't flaunt your time with Harry as if we can't have it too."
William nodded. "Of course. I promised Harry that you'd all see him eventually, one way or another. I intend to keep that promise."
Elizabeth brightened. "Can we communicate with him somehow?"
William frowned thoughtfully. "Direct communication might be tricky. He doesn't know about you fully yet. I told him stories, showed him he has a family. But he's still a child. We don't want to scare him."
Michael raised a hand. "Maybe you can bring him more recordings from us. We could record messages. Something gentle, an introduction, so he knows we care."
Evan nodded eagerly. "I'd like that. Even if we can't see him in person yet, we can send our voices."
William considered the idea, smiling. "That's a good plan. I'll create a secure channel. You can record short greetings or stories, and I'll deliver them to Harry next time I visit."
Clara agreed. "Yes. That might help him feel closer to us." She paused, tilting her head. "William, what about the wizarding threat you mentioned? Have you learned anything more? Is Harry truly safe from them?"
William's expression darkened slightly. "For now, he's safe. I buried his records deep and made him legally Vanessa's ward. The wizard Dumbledore or others would have to navigate a maze of confusion to find him. Still, we can't be complacent. I'll keep searching for information. We may need to stand together if they come for him."
Elizabeth's posture stiffened. "Wizards," she muttered. "We never imagined dealing with magic. But if they threaten Harry—"
Evan's voice turned resolute. "We'll protect him."
Michael grunted in agreement. "He's family. We owe Lily that much. And it's not like we're normal targets. We're... something else. They might find us harder to manipulate."
Clara's lullaby tone hummed through the air. "We will do whatever it takes. For Harry, for Lily's memory, and for ourselves. We can't undo the past, but we can safeguard the future."
William nodded, relief and determination filling him. He had been worried his family would be hesitant, divided, or resentful. Instead, seeing Harry had galvanized them. The longing for family, for love and protection, had kindled something bright in their broken spirits.
They spent hours more reviewing holograms, watching Harry toddle about in that bunny costume, greeting guests, interacting shyly with Vanessa and the animatronics. Each clip brought laughter, tender sighs, and sometimes tears. Clara found herself humming a quiet waltz tune she once danced to, imagining Harry dancing with her someday. Elizabeth imagined teaching Harry silly games and sharing sweets. Michael wondered if Harry might appreciate some mechanical toys he could fix. Evan hoped Harry would never know the kind of fear he once felt.
At some point, William dared to joke lightly, "See, now I'm not just bragging. I've shown you the proof. Our grandson is indeed adorable."
Clara laughed, a sound like chiming bells. "You're on thin ice, dear," she teased. "But I'll allow it this time."
Elizabeth snorted. "Careful, Father. No more hour-long lectures, right?"
Michael smirked. "Or maybe he enjoyed it. Who knows?"
William gave them a dry look. "I think once was enough, thank you." But his tone was relaxed, full of fondness. He had missed this banter, this family dynamic. Even twisted by death and metal, they were still a family.
Evan's voice drifted softly, "Father, thank you for bringing us this. For showing us Harry."
William turned to his youngest son's voice, heart aching with tenderness. "Evan, I promise I'll bring you more. I'll keep you updated on Harry's life. And maybe one day, we'll find a way for him to see you, to know you as more than stories and holograms."
Evan nodded, flickering in the dim light. "I'd like that," he said simply.
They continued talking, sharing ideas. William told them about Vanessa, how kind she was, how she read bedtime stories to Harry and guarded him fiercely. He described the animatronics at the Pizzaplex, who had initially been wary but now adored Harry, treating him like a precious sibling. He recounted how Harry promised not to become a rebellious teenager and steal his car, which earned chuckles all around.
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you told him about me stealing the car?" he asked, sounding both amused and offended.
William grinned, mischievous. "Of course I did. Harry thought it was hilarious."
Elizabeth laughed. "Poor Michael, your teenage crimes are now bedtime stories."
Evan giggled. "At least Harry knows not to follow your example."
Michael rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I was young, okay?" But he smirked. "If it made him laugh, I'll allow it."
They talked until a sense of peace settled over them. For the first time in decades, they were united by something hopeful. Lily's memory and Harry's existence were forging new bonds. Their monstrous pasts, their horrors, and the pain still lingered, but they had found a spark of redemption in the next generation.
When William finally said he had to leave to continue his searches and plans, none of them objected. They trusted he would return with more updates. Before he left, Clara drew close again, her mechanical arms raised as if wanting to hug him, though their forms were strange and mismatched. He felt the intent and stepped closer, letting her place a hand on his shoulder.
"Next time, show us more," she said softly. "And remember, no more bragging. Just share with us, without rubbing it in."
William nodded solemnly. "Understood, my love. I'll be humble. For Harry's sake, I want us all to be better."
Clara smiled, satisfied. The children nodded their farewells. William vanished again, slipping into the digital ether, carrying the warmth of this reunion with him. He had faced his wife's wrath and emerged with a better understanding of how to share happiness instead of hoarding it. He had assured his family's involvement in Harry's life. They would stand together, protect Harry, cherish him.
As William traveled back through data lines, he considered his next steps. He would refine the communication channels so his children and wife could record messages for Harry. He would investigate wizarding leads, ensure no threat approached the Pizzaplex unnoticed. He would help Harry grow, not just as a happy child, but eventually as someone who could connect with his extended family, no matter how bizarre their circumstances.
He replayed a mental image of Harry blowing shy kisses to a group of squealing children. That image would sustain him. He understood now: love, trust, and family were not conditions of normalcy alone. Even after death, even in twisted animatronic shells, these ties could persist and heal. Harry was proof of that—a bridge across time and tragedy, giving them all a reason to hope.
In the dim underground corridor, after William's departure, Clara turned to her children. "Well," she said gently. "What did you think?"
Elizabeth smiled softly. "I think we have a good grandson."
Evan nodded. "A reason to remember Lily with happiness."
Michael crossed his arms, but he was smiling too. "Father's different now. Harry's changing him."
Clara swayed to her music box tune. "Then let's prepare something to send back with William next time. A lullaby, perhaps? Or kind words to let Harry know he's loved?"
Elizabeth grinned. "A sweet message sounds perfect."
Evan agreed. "We can each say something. Just a short greeting. He should know we can't wait to meet him."
Michael shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "Sure, I'll say something. Nothing too sappy, though," he teased.
Clara laughed, a melodic sound. "You can be sappy if you want, Michael. It's family."
They settled in, brainstorming what they would say, feeling more alive than they had in years. In the shared glow of Harry's distant laughter, they found a new purpose. They were Aftons still, a family bound by strange fates, but now they had a child to cherish, a future to protect, and maybe—just maybe—a second chance at love and redemption.
In that quiet underground space, as old machinery slumbered and dust drifted through dim lights, the Aftons planned their messages of love to a boy across the ocean. Harry might not hear them today or tomorrow, but soon he would know he was never alone. And that knowledge, they hoped, would shape a brighter destiny for them all.
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