Family Matters

Jason sighed as he trekked through the woods, occasionally glancing down at the full-head helmet in his hand. It was well-crafted, with faint traces of magic laced into it, likely some godly blessing attached. Bruce had been mulling over passing the mantle to Tim now that he was nearly eighteen, older than Dick had been when he gave up being Robin.

Jason slowed to a stop, standing near the edge of the Black Lake. From here, everyone looked like ants, too far away to notice him. He sighed and raised the red helmet, sliding it over his head and adjusting it until it sat comfortably.

The water’s surface was smooth, reflecting like a mirror, though without the red tint he'd imagined. His vision remained clear, and the moment the helmet was on, he felt safer, calmer—like the prickling anxiety beneath his skin had been soothed.

For the first time in a while, Jason felt at peace.

Bruce was right. It was time to move on from Robin

-----

Hari smiled as he tucked himself in for the night. Dinner had been wonderful, with most of the family present. Dick hadn’t stopped hugging him and showering him with praise, even as the others filled him in on details he’d missed. Jason had been unusually quiet, but since he wanted to speak with Bruce and Tim after dinner, Hari figured it had something to do with Tim's growing obsession with the Black Family Library.

As Hari settled into his bed, the familiar warmth of the blankets soothing him, he felt a shift in the room. Something had entered—its presence was heavy, but oddly comforting.

“Hariiii… come on, Hariii,” a voice sang, its tone melodic and non-threatening.

Despite the soothing nature of the voice, Hari's instincts kicked in. He swiftly reached for his wand, hidden under his pillow, while blindly groping for his glasses. His eyes, still blurry, never left the vague figure hovering at the foot of his bed.

Laughter echoed from the figure, soft yet haunting. “Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Slipping his glasses on helped his eyes focus on the figure in front of him, it was a handsome gentleman with sparkling mauve skin and silver hair that was in an intricate braid. “Hello Ignotus, how are you?”

“I’m not Ignotus.” Hari stated firmly, his wand not wavering from the being in front of him.

“Of course you’re not! But you see, you're from his line and I remember so many names, you actually look the most like him since I want to say your great-grand Uncle Amnon. He comes to tea Sunday’s with Iggie! Ammie, Iggie and then you can join us too, Hari!” 

The joy in the figure's sun-colored eyes confused Hari, though only for a moment. “You’re Thanatos, aren’t you?”

Thanatos beamed. “Charlie told you about me! That makes this so much easier.” His playful demeanor faded, becoming more serious. “You only have a few weeks before you must do something you’ll hate. I can’t tell you what it is, but when it happens, you have to let it. Otherwise, more people will die, and it’ll be far more brutal.”

Hari's frown deepened as Thanatos leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching. “Keres will visit you in a week to begin your training. He will be the first god you’ve ever met.”

Hari blinked. “But aren’t we meeting right now? Didn’t you call me an old friend?”

Thanatos smirked. “Meeting you as a baby doesn’t count—for him. He will be the first god you’ve ever met.” His face was now inches from Hari's, pressing awkwardly against his glasses.

Hari looked a little cross-eyed, trying to focus. “Is this a ‘wink wink, nudge nudge’ moment?”

“This is a ‘wink wink, nudge nudge,’” Thanatos whispered firmly.

“Can I go to sleep if I say yes?”

“You CAN go to sleep if you say yes.”

Hari groaned slightly at the god pressed uncomfortably close to his face. “Are you like twelve in god years?”

“I’m more like... fifteen, if I did the math right.”

“Great...”

“So?” Thanatos backed off in a flash, excited. “Who’s the first god you’re going to meet?”

“Keres.”

“Wonderful!” Thanatos sang. “Goodnight, Hari.”

“Goodnight, god who was never here.”

---

Barty sat in the Shrieking Shack, his head cradled in his hands. The Polyjuice Potion had worn off a while ago, and he welcomed the rare moment to be in his own body. But the sounds in his head were relentless tonight, shifting from Evie’s enchanting laughter to the cries of a baby, then transforming into the tortured screams of those he had harmed.

Normally, these sounds were distant, a soft ringing at the back of his mind. But tonight, they were deafening, drowning out everything else.

That girl. His thoughts turned sharply to her. The one with the lilac hair. Her face... She had his aunt’s features, but her eyes... They were shaped just like Evie’s. Familiar, unmistakable. And that scowl—he had seen it before, etched in the countless portraits and photographs lining the grand halls of the Crouch estate..

“She couldn’t possibly be...?” Barty muttered to himself, a tremor in his voice. “I saw... I saw her...”

His thoughts spiraled, confusion thickening. “I saw... I saw... I saw,” he whispered, panic lacing every word. “Didn’t I?”

His hands, trembling, raked through his hair. Fingernails, chewed down to the quick, scraped against his scalp, digging into the delicate skin until blood trickled down his temples. The physical pain barely registered, “The baby was burned… burned baby,” Barty muttered, his voice breaking. “Burned baby, my sweet brunette baby…”

A sudden squeak cut through his frenzied thoughts, pulling his attention. A rat scurried across the floor, only to twist and warp into the hideous, hunched form of a man Barty detested.

“W-well, aren’t you all twisted up?” Wormtail sneered, his voice laced with false bravado as he took in Barty’s crumpled form.

Barty’s eyes, wild and unfocused, darted to the man, searching him up and down, looking for something that wasn’t there. “Rat tails… rat tails…” he mumbled, barely making sense of the man before him. “Why… why are you here?”

Wormtail smirked, pulling out his wand, eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. “Contrary to popular belief, I can feel a spell starting to wane,” he taunted, his tone sing-song. “You’ve done so well these past few years, haven’t you? We wouldn’t want that to change now, would we?”

Barty’s eyes snapped wide with sudden clarity, but before he could react, Wormtail’s wand was raised.

“Imperio.”

Barty’s body jerked, his muscles tensing as the spell washed over him, smothering his thoughts like a thick blanket. His defiance, his confusion—all of it dulled, leaving behind only numbness. His mind quieted, the voices that had screamed for hours silenced in an instant.