The ride back from Freddy's passed in a blur of streetlights and murmured voices.
Uncle Vernon complained about parking, Aunt Petunia fussed over Dudley's shirt, and Dudley loudly recounted the games he'd played.
Harry sat quietly in the back seat, hands folded in his lap, watching the glow of passing lamps through the window. He didn't mind the silence — it was easier than trying to talk.
When they reached Privet Drive, everything fell back into its usual rhythm. Dinner was reheated leftovers. Vernon's voice droned from the television, Dudley laughed at his own jokes, and Harry did the dishes as usual.
Once the house quieted, he went upstairs to the small second bedroom and shut the door behind him. The stillness felt safe here. He changed, lay down, and soon drifted into sleep.
When his eyes opened again, he was still in his room — but it didn't feel right.
The shadows stretched too far.
The air was heavy.
And there were three doors now instead of 1.
Two on opposite walls, and a closed closet between them. Harry sat up slowly, frowning. He didn't remember that. He looked around, but the rest of the room was the same — bed, desk, window. Just . . . wrong somehow.
A sound broke the silence. Creeak.
It came from outside the door.
He hesitated, then stood. The floorboards didn't creak under his feet as he crossed to the door and pushed it open.
The hallway was darker than it should've been. The wallpaper looked faded, the air colder.
Another sound — faint, further down. Metal against wood. He stepped out, quiet and careful. The corridor stretched longer than it ever had before, ending in a split: one way looping back, the other leading somewhere new.
He followed the unfamiliar path.
At the end was a small space — empty except for a wooden chair. Sitting on it was something small.
An animatronic.
It was about the size of a child's toy, metal scratched and dull, colored a strange yellow-green. Its mouth was filled with sharp teeth.
Harry stopped beside a large white X marked on the floor. Suddenly the animatronic's head lifted. Its eyes flickered to life.
Harry tensed but didn't move, watching.
Then, without realizing when it happened, a flashlight had appeared in his hand. It felt solid, warm, and real.
A thought entered Harry's head and he clicked the light off.
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then — footsteps. Light, fast, moving to the side.
He turned the flashlight back on.
The chair was empty.
The animatronic was gone.