The night air was heavy with fog as Harry and Plushtrap slipped through the quiet streets of Little Whinging. The small animatronic trotted beside him, feet making no sound on the pavement despite his metal frame. Harry had cleaned his knife, packed away the tools, and left the alley behind without a trace. The body was gone now—lost to the dark and the hum of the city's endless noise.
Harry walked quickly, his head lowered. Streetlights cast long, broken shadows across the road. Plushtrap darted ahead, his green body blending almost perfectly with the dimness between lamps. For something made of metal and wire, he moved with an unnerving grace.
"Are you sure no one saw us?" Harry whispered as they turned onto Privet Drive.
Plushtrap giggled softly, his voice a quiet, buzzing echo. "No one even knew we were there. I can hide when I want to—real well."
Harry glanced down at him. "Hide?"
The animatronic's yellow eyes gleamed faintly in the dark. "It's like… I turn off everything. No sound, no heat, no light. Not even cameras can see me. It's part of what I am."
Harry considered that in silence. Stealth. The ability to vanish at will. A powerful advantage.
They slipped through the Dursleys' back garden, Plushtrap easily slipping through the small pet door while Harry unlocked the kitchen window he'd learned to use long ago. The house was still—no television, no snoring, just the quiet hum of the refrigerator.
"Home," Harry muttered. The word had little meaning, but it was the only one he had.
Plushtrap hopped onto the counter and crouched low, his glowing eyes dimming until only faint outlines remained. "They won't notice you, right?" Harry asked.
"Not if I don't want them too," Plushtrap said, Harry pulled off his shoes and moved to the cabinet, where a half-empty loaf of bread sat waiting. He took two slices and handed one to Plushtrap out of habit before realizing what he'd done.
Plushtrap tilted his head. "I don't eat that."
Harry blinked, then smiled faintly, a small curve of lips that faded almost instantly. "Right."
Still, Plushtrap reached out and held the bread between his small hands, turning it over curiously. "Humans are weird," he decided, setting it down.
They retreated to Harry's small room. The broken toys and scrap electronics from days before were still scattered across the floor. Plushtrap leapt up onto the desk, eyes flicking with mechanical curiosity. "You did good, y'know," he said after a while. "You didn't even shake."
Harry sat on the edge of his bed, unzipping his backpack. "I had to. There wasn't another choice."
"Still," Plushtrap said, turning toward him with a grin that somehow looked both proud and mischievous. "You did what needed doing. That's what makes you strong."
Harry didn't answer. His mind was elsewhere—on the strange material he'd created, the way it pulsed faintly when soaked into the animatronic's frame. Remnant. A soul made liquid. A bridge between life and machine.
He looked at Plushtrap, who was now tapping the desk, small claws making rhythmic, near-silent clicks. "Plushtrap," he said slowly, "how much do you know about what you are?"
Plushtrap froze for a moment, then looked back at him with an almost too-human expression. "Enough. Enough to know that I'm not supposed to be here… but I am."
Harry leaned forward. "And you said you can't be seen?" Plushtrap nodded. "I can hide in shadows, cameras, even minds if I need to. I'm quiet. Unseen. Perfect for finding things."
"Finding things," Harry repeated, a spark of thought forming. "Like people. Or places."
"Or secrets," Plushtrap said, eyes gleaming brighter. "I could sneak into anywhere. See anything. You just tell me what you want to know."
Harry exhaled slowly. "That could be useful."
The animatronic giggled again, hopping from the desk onto the bed beside him. "That's why we're partners now, right? You and me. You think. I sneak. We both get what we want."
Harry glanced down at him. "And what do you want?" Plushtrap paused. His usual playfulness dimmed slightly. "To stay. To be real. To never go back to nothing."
Harry nodded once. "Then we'll make sure you don't." They sat in silence for a while, the small hum of the house filling the air. Outside, the streetlight flickered, dimmed, and went out completely, plunging Privet Drive into deeper shadow.
Eventually, Harry rose and began tidying the scattered bits of wire and plastic. His movements were precise, efficient. "We'll need more," he murmured. "More parts. More tools. We can make better shells—stronger ones."
Plushtrap tilted his head. "Shells? Like me?"
"Yes," Harry said. "If I can make you… I can make others. But we'll need power. Remnant. And to get that, we'll need to be careful."
Plushtrap grinned wide, his teeth glinting faintly. "Careful's my middle name."
Harry didn't return the smile. He was thinking ahead already—how to hide evidence, how to move unseen, how to make his next creation better, faster, more lifelike. The dull ache of loneliness that had always haunted him was quiet now, replaced by the soft hum of purpose.
Plushtrap leaned against his arm. "Hey, Harry?"
"Hm?"
"I've been thinking," Plushtrap said, tone almost conspiratorial. "There's something that we need to do before making more animatronics. Something that could help us both. But I need to check first."
Harry looked down at him sharply. "Check what?" Plushtrap only smiled, his eyes flickering between colors—green to yellow, yellow to deep orange. "You'll see. Tomorrow, maybe. I'll show you what a real friend can do."
Before Harry could press further, Plushtrap's form shimmered. The glow in his eyes dimmed, his body seeming to blur at the edges until he was gone—completely invisible, not even a whisper of sound remaining.
Harry's heart quickened, but not from fear. He looked at the empty spot where Plushtrap had been and whispered, "A friend's benefits, huh?"
The room was quiet, yet he could almost feel the faint pulse of life in the air, like an echo answering him from the dark.
He sat back on the bed, eyes fixed on the shadows where his creation had vanished. The plan was growing, slowly, carefully. Tomorrow would bring new steps. And this time, Harry thought, he wouldn't be alone.