Two for One

Chapter 12: Better

It's not their fault, Harry is adamant on that. The two are children, they don't even understand the world yet, much less a complicated thing like morals.

Especially in Tom's case. Growing up during war time would have been horrible – most adults didn't make it through the other side intact. Plus the mother's side of the family isn't the best either, what with inbreeding and mental illness running in the family as a genetic disorder.

So that's nature and nurture both pushing Tom to be a little messed up. Harry's not saying Tom is the best child but he's hardly the worst.

Harry says this earnestly to the Unspeakable as they sit in the warded and enlargened backyard around a small table, sipping morning tea and nibbling on biscuits while the children run around.

"Then what's your excuse for Gellert?" the Unspeakable deadpans, nodding behind Harry.

Harry turns to find Gellert standing behind his chair, hands behind the boy's back. Harry smiles and shifts around in his chair to better face the child. "Oh? Do you have something for me?"

Gellert smiles brightly, eyes wide and shinning as he presents the surprise to Harry. "I made it myself."

Harry stares down at the bloody pigeon in Gellert's hands.

The Unspeakable skulls the rest of his tea, stands and pats Harry on the shoulder. "I used to think you were an optimist, Harry. Now I just think you're a dumbass."

Harry sighs as the Unspeakable apparates away. "Where did you find that? Gellert, put it down, that's so unhygienic."

Gellert shuffles forward and makes a motion like he's about to drop it in Harry's lap.

"No!" Harry shrieks, pulling his knees up and pushing his hands out protectively. "On the ground, Gellert! The ground."

The little blond boy blinks his big eyes and drops the pigeon with a wet splat onto the ground at Harry's feet. His smile curves up into something horrific.

"Go wash your hands," Harry complains. "Oh, honestly. With the backyard tap – don't track that blood into the house."

Tom trots up as Harry sternly watches to make sure Gellert gets rid of all the blood. Harry turns to warn Tom about the dead pigeon Harry's going to have to bury, only to notice Tom is also hiding something behind his back.

Harry frowns. "That better not be dead, Tom."

"It's not," Tom huffs and holds out his trusty knife with what looks to be newborn kitten skewered on the end, weakly struggling, not even old enough to scream.

Harry goes still. He doesn't understand what's happening for a moment.

"Do you like it?"

Harry breathes shakily, reaching out but then shying away. He needs to...to help but he can't. He can't heal that.

"Death!" Harry screams. "Death, come here!"

A figure bleeds out of Harry's shadow, wavering and indistinct, rising up and opening a gaping maw to swallow the kitten whole before sinking back into Harry's shadow like a slick oil spill.

"It wasn't dead," Tom insists, sheathing his knife easily, the blade licked clean.

Harry jabs a finger at the boy. "It was more dead than it was alive! Both of you, inside, and clean your hands with as much soap as we have."

Gellert turns off the backyard tap and slides a sideways glance at Tom, smug. "Mine was bigger."

Tom puffs up. "Harry likes kittens."