chapter 2

In the three days after Mr. Matthew, Henry keeps his chalk hidden in his locker. He doesn't dare take it off to look during the day, not while the danger of his uncles is a constant fear in the back of his mind.

When everyone is asleep and night has fallen, however, Henry can grab the pink chalk in his hand and remind himself that he's real. Mr. Matthew is real and will be back with a new friend for Henry, just as he promised.

On the morning of the third day, Henry had the best stroke of luck. Uncle Cooper and Aunt Karen have decided to take Dennis to the local summer carnival for the day, and they will leave Henry in the care of Mr. Gordon.

That's what Mr. is Matthew doing? Henry hopes so, because if this is a result of his own luck, it probably won't last long.

While Aunt Karen is busy taking care of her dear Dennis, Henry sneaks into her closet. After making sure no one is paying attention to him, he quickly wraps the chalk in one of Dennis's old socks and hides it in the wide folds of his shirt. Henry tucks the shirt securely into the waistband of his baggy shorts and hopes it stays hidden there.

Henry tries not to look anxious about being left behind. What if Uncle Cooper decides it's best to leave him in the closet? But after a brief conversation with Aunt Karen, Uncle Cooper decides it's best to leave him with another adult. All three will be out all day and won't return until late at night.

According to them, even a freaky thing like him will need to be fed and watered eventually, and it's better if that's someone else's job.

As Aunt Karen drives him to Mr Gordon's house, Henry can feel the weight of her chalk pressing against him. His stomach is churning as he thinks about what's to come.

After being dropped off and given a stern warning to behave, Henry is left sitting in Mr. Gordon, trying not to sneeze all over the cat hair.

He needs to save his sneezes for later, he reasons. So he can call Mr. Matthew. Henry hopes that Mr. Matthew doesn't mind if it's not exactly the same place as last time.

Although Henry often asks to leave, Mr. Gordon refuses him until late afternoon. One of the kneazle cats, Tibbles, escapes into the backyard, and now it's Henry's job to coax him out of hiding.

A glance over his shoulder confirms that the old man has no intention of following him. Henry breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward the backyard. Now it's time for him to draw.

Henry retrieves his chalk, unwraps it, and starts dragging pink lines across the floor. First the circle and then the star. It takes less time than expected. Henry feels a surge of pride in that. He got faster at drawing.

Deser complete, Henry casts his glance around at the cat. Maybe he should have started with Tibbles first, he thinks sadly. Because now the only thing stopping him from receiving his betrothed friend from Mr. Matthew is a stupid missing cat.

"Tibbles?" Henry screams. He drops to his knees so he can look under the many unkempt bushes Mr. Gordon keeps it in his backyard.

No cats in sight.

Henry crawls around, looking around, careful to avoid grass stains on his shorts. The more he looks, the more worried he gets. How long until Mr. Gordon come out to see what he's up to? How long until your opportunity to call Mr. Matthew disappear?

Henry's chest constricts with anxiety. He wants to cry, but he won't. He won't cry. Dennis said crying is for babies, so Henry learned to shut up and hold back tears.

A soft meow startles Henry so much that he nearly falls headfirst into a bush. Henry turns and sees a cat on the sidewalk, its fluffy body sitting in the middle of Henry's moon and star design.

It's not Tibbles, but Henry doesn't care which cat to use. He rushes forward and takes the cat in his arms, buries his nose in its soft fur.

Seconds later, his heart racing, Henry sneezes. High. So loud, in fact, that the cat - Snowy - howls and leaps to the ground, disappearing into the bushes.

The moon and star begin to glow bright red, just like the first time, and Henry holds his breath as Mr. Matthew appears in the center of the circle.

Blurry at first, anyway. A tall, dark shadow. But then the shadow takes on color, like a drawing being colored, revealing not Mr. Matthew that Henry expected, but a man.

Lord Underneath towers over little Henry Potter, who looks at him with intense suspicion.

"You're not Mr. Matthew," the human child accuses, pointing a finger. That the finger trembles is a small detail, for the voice is firm and full of anger. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

Underneath kneels down, reaches out to stroke the child's arm. "It's me, Henry. I took this form so as not to scare anyone who looks at us."

For a moment, Underneath dissolves the illusion, displaying sharp fangs and transparent darkness. Henry blinks, and then the image disappears, once again replaced by the pretty face.

Underneath watches with interest as relief rolls off the human's shoulders, the scent of it stronger than the anger that had been present just seconds before.

"He's you," says Henry, tones of pleasure returning to that youthful voice. "Is it hard to make them look different? Can you do that for me? Can you teach me?"

"Ah, ah," said Underneath. "One gift at a time, little one. We shouldn't be greedy."

Henry's mouth dropped into a small 'o' shape.

"Did you bring me a friend?" Henry blurts out, then looks ashamed of his lapse in restraint, looking down at the floor.

"I promised, didn't I? And I keep all my promises," says Underneath, smiling.

Henry nods and bites his lip. "I believe you! I believe you, I promise you I do."

Underneath touches the child's arm a second time. "I decided," said Underneath, "that the friends I could find for you were unsuitable for the task."

"Oh." Henry's mouth tightens into a line and suddenly the scent of desperation fills the air. "It's okay, Mr. Matthew. I know you must have tried very hard to find someone for me." The child sniffs boldly, pulling up the sleeve of a very long shirt to rub her blotchy cheeks.

Confusion invades Underneath upon witnessing the human's desolation. In the half second it takes for the meaning to register, Henry has already composed his face into an expression of stubborn determination.

"Foolish child," says Underneath. "I have something better to offer you."

Henry dared to look hopeful, then, offering a shy glance in Underneath's direction. "Anything else?"

"Oh yes. Much better than any friend you'd find here on this earth."

"Same?" Henry sniffles some more, snobbishly, then resumes his attempt at stoicism. "You really don't have to," he adds quickly. "I said it's okay."

Underneath suppresses an awkward urge to smile, instead choosing to stretch his lips over the facade of human teeth in a different way, showing the boy his confused frown.

"I see, Henry," he says, showing great sadness. "Don't you want to know what gift I brought you?"

Henry steps forward to reassure, small hands gripping the sleeve of Underneath's jacket. "No! I want to know. I want you to tell me."

Underneath pats the child on the head, noticing how Henry still gets the touch. "I've decided," says Underneath, "that I'll be your new friend. Would you like me to be, little one?"

Those brown eyes widen almost comically. "Do you want to be my friend?"

This time, Underneath lets his momentum reign free - he smiles at the child clinging to his arm. Such a lovely, pure, innocent soul. It would be useless to spoil such a treasure now, not when years were yet to come, years and years for this child to grow and mature into a harvest worth reaping.

"I guarantee it," Underneath promises, stroking the puppy's dark curls with a gentle touch. "And no other friend would be as wonderful to you as I am, wouldn't you agree?"

Henry scrambles under Mr. Matthew. He's never had anyone stroke his head before. Neither the Dursleys, nor their teachers at school, nor Mr. Gordon. Nobody.

Mr. Matthew is special, though. Mr. Matthew is good and wants to be your friend. This is the luckiest day Henry ever had.

"Okay," Henry whispers. "If…if you want to be my friend, then I want to be your friend."

Maybe Dennis is right. Maybe he's a freak, and that's why none of the other kids at school want to be his friend, and that's why he's here now, piece of chalk in hand, next to a strange man who only appears when called.

But now, Henry thinks, twisting at the thought, now he does have a friend, a really cool one. And Dennis won't be able to make fun of him anymore for being too bizarre to have friends, because it won't be true.

"Wonderful," says Mr. Matthew.

The eyes of Mr. Matthew have little wrinkles around them when he smiles. Henry wonders if Mr. Matthew does the same thing and resolves to find out as soon as he can.

"Now that we're friends," continues Mr. Matthew, "I have a new gift for you."

Henry can't help but gasp in surprise. Another gift?

"You really don't have to," said Henry, now starting to panic. "I promise I'm very happy that we're friends. You don't have to give me anything else."

Mr. Matthew pouts. "But I would love to. I made it special, just for you."

"Only for me?" Henry repeats. He feels very small and unimportant under the heat of Mr. Matthew. The idea of ​​a new gift is quickly becoming overwhelming.

Mr. Matthew is much bigger and taller than Henry. Mr. Matthew probably has a lot of friends besides Henry too. All this is true, only Mr. Matthew still wants to give Henry another gift.

It doesn't make sense, Henry thinks. I'm not special. I'm just Henry.

"I want to visit you more often," says Mr. Matthew kindly. "Do you want me to visit?"

"Yes," Henry says immediately. "I want that

you visit all the time."

"Then you're going to need your special gift." Mr. Matthew taps a finger on Henry's cheek. The nail looks pointy, like the claw that Henry knows Mr. Matthew has. "Unless you don't want to anymore?"

"No, I want to," Henry said, giving in. "You can give it to me. I swear I don't mind."

Mr. Matthew pats him again, running his fingers through the tuft of hair on top of Henry's head. "Very good. Now close your eyes."

Henry squirms at the compliment and complies as instructed, debating whether to reach out or not.

Fortunately, Henry is saved from that decision when Mr. Matthew places his hand on her shoulder, squeezing once. Henry stays as still as he can, even though he's practically vibrating with the need to know what it is. Mr. Matthew must be able to feel her arousal, though, because Henry hears the man's dark laughter close to his ear.

Something tickles your head. Henry winces at the touch, then resumes his imitation of a stone statue as a weight settles on his neck.

"Open your eyes, little one."

Henry opens his eyes. There's a necklace on it. Or something like a necklace.

A thick black chain wound around her neck, an awkward ring tied at the end. The ring weighs against his chest. Glossy black rock and ancient metal. It's not the prettiest ring Henry has ever seen, but it's his, and that makes it perfect.

Henry goes to touch him, but is stopped by Mr. Matthew slipping on her wrist. The touch is light and doesn't hurt, but Henry pulls back anyway.

"Sorry," Henry said worriedly. "I didn't want to play yet. I'm sorry."

"Shush." Mr. Matthew runs the fingers of his free hand through Henry's bangs. Henry immediately relaxes, happy that Mr. Matthew don't be mad at him.

Mr. Matthew lets go of Henry's wrist and takes the ring, holding it up for Henry to look at. "This ring will call me wherever you are, and I will if I can."

Henry marvels at the ring for a second before another thought occurs to him. He can feel his face flush. It should be obvious too, because Mr. Matthew raises an eyebrow at him in question.

"You will place the ring on your finger - any finger will do - and focus on your desire to have me with you."

Mr. Matthew places the ring on Henry's hand. Henry closes his smaller fingers around it, trapping the cold metal shape in his palm.

"You understand?" Mr. Matthew asks.

"Yes," said Henry. "Yes but-"

"But?"

Henry's chest is full of shame. He doesn't mean it, but Mr. Matthew has been very kind to him. It would be terrible if Henry lost the product of Mr. Matthew, because the Dursleys won't believe the ring is actually a gift.

"I really like this gift," says Henry. "I like a lot."

Mr. Matthew patiently waits for him to continue.

"But I think you should go back," Henry muttered.

Shock quickly crosses the man's face. "But why?" asks Mr. Matthew, looking confused and upset.

Henry has to turn around. He looks at his shoes, at his worn sneakers with duct tape stickers on the front. How will he explain what will happen if he takes this gift to his uncles?

"My aunt and uncle," Henry begins. Then he stops, uncomfortable. He rubs his face again, willing his tears to remain in his head. "They won't believe me if I say it was a gift. They'll think I stole it somewhere."

Silence.

Henry decides he's brave enough to look up and see that Mr. Matthew twitched into a frown, his brows twitching unhappily.

"I don't steal things," adds Henry nervously. "I don't steal! You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do. We are friends, after all. And friends never lie to each other."

Henry winces a little inadvertently. Listen to Mr. Matthew calling him a friend makes him feel guilty all over again. "Fine. So you know why I can't have your present."

Mr. Matthew frowns some more. Henry doesn't like to see the frown, knowing it's his fault.

"I'm sorry," Henry said miserably.

"You have nothing to apologize for. It's not your fault," says Mr. Matthew, and it's the first time Henry has heard the man sound so stern.

"Fine," says Henry. Even if he doesn't believe it, he doesn't want to argue with Mr. Matthew. Mr. Matthew is already upset that Henry has to reject his gift.

Neither of them speak for a moment, but Mr. Matthew puts his hand back on Henry's shoulder, holding him in place, preventing him from moving away.

"I have an idea that will solve your problem," says Mr. Matthew at last.

And then he takes Henry's glasses.

Henry backs away without thinking, soothed only by the silent noise Mr. Matthew does as he slowly removes the glasses from Henry's face.

"I'm going to put a spell on your glasses," says Mr. serious Matthew. "And then no one will be able to see my gift except you."

"Oh," says Henry. Then he adds, "Really? Will this work?"

Mr. Matthew hums in response, pulling the necklace from Henry's body. Henry is saddened when the weight is taken off, but the necklace is quickly returned to him after Mr. Matthew finishes with his magic.

Henry rubs his hand over the empty space in his shirt. He can feel the ring is there, but he can't see it.

So Mr. Matthew holds out his glasses. Henry picks them up, realizing the tape in the middle is gone, and puts them on. The lenses are clearer too, and when Henry looks at his chest, he can see the chain and ring.

"Wow," Henry said, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. The word 'wow' doesn't seem like enough, but Henry can't think of a better word at the moment. In fact, Henry is having trouble thinking about anything. Your chest is tight and awkward. Henry rubs to try to ease the discomfort.

"Are you happy?" asks Mr. Matthew, rubbing his hands up and down Henry's forearms.

Henry can't help it. The question and the touch of his arms stir whatever is making her insides feel strange. Everything he was holding spills out, his eyes burning and fogging up for reasons unrelated to his glasses as he starts to cry.

Henry is crying.

Something about seeing this young man cry is unsettling. Underneath examines the child and tries to decipher the meaning of the behavior.

Did he do something wrong? Is the human child not happy with him?

The crying goes on and on and on. Henry trembles in Underneath's hands, curling up like a baby fern.

Underneath frowns. Fortunately, Henry is too busy trying to hold back tears to realize this. Henry may have misread the annoyed expression again, and so it's highly likely that the tears got worse.

Unacceptable.

Moving her hands to grasp Henry's waist, Underneath picks up the boy and wraps the small body around her shoulder, as you do with babies and other small creatures. Not that Underneath had ever had such a small being in his possession before; little Henry Donovan is the first.

Henry squeals as his feet leave the floor, then sobs loudly. "What-?"

Both are interrupted by a loud, masculine wail. The sound irritates Underneath's ears, so he spins around to face the fountain.

An elderly man is pointing at him and yelling. At first, Underneath thinks this is neither surprising nor unexpected.

Then he remembers that, as of this moment, he still retains the illusion of his human form. The form he'd taken on in hopes of attracting the pup who was gripping his shoulder with arrogant hands.

So really, the hysteria is quite unnecessary.

Underneath waves a lazy hand in a sweeping gesture, freezing the man in place.

"What? Was that Mr. Gordon?" Henry asks.

"Put me down!" A tiny hand beats

on Underneath's shoulder repeatedly.

"Shhh," says Underneath warningly. "I am thinking."

Henry is quiet, but continues to sob and sniff with every breath.

Underneath absently places his free hand on the boy's back, then decides that Henry will probably be more comfortable indoors with his uncle.

A blast of magic opens the back door, and then they head into the living room.

The living room is awful. Dozens of pictures of knee pads cover the coffee table's surface. The available space not covered by the photos of the cats, however, is covered by their deletion.

Underneath banishes all cat hairs to the depths of hell, where they will be put to good use torturing insolent allergy sufferers.

"You froze him!" Henry yelled, finally spotting the hapless woman at the door. "You froze him! Put him back!"

"No," says Underneath.

He sits the two of them on the couch, placing Henry on his lap. Despite having screamed a few seconds ago, Henry doesn't try to run away. Her eyes are reddish-pink, her cheeks and nose glisten with moisture.

"Put it back on," says Henry, in Matthew stern of offense, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I will do no such thing until our conversation is over."

Fortunately, Henry seems to register the purpose of the statement, because he settles down, his bottom lip wagging once more.

If Henry starts crying again, Underneath will be terribly tempted to disappear back into the underworld, where the emotions of others are composed of 'immense pain' and 'ungodly terror', and humans only exist as subjects of torture.

"Why are you so upset?" Underneath demands.

The full lip jiggles again, and Henry sniffles loudly, only to be interrupted by another violent sob.

"I n-no," Henry defends, sounding perhaps a second longer than another wave of tears.

Underneath rubs her face. There's a headache growing at the base of his horns; horns that are not even visible at the moment.

"You started crying before I froze the human man. Are you upset with me?" he asks, one last attempt at patience.

Henry squirms in Underneath's lap, his expression uncertain. His cheeks get even redder as he looks down at her.

pile of cat pictures on coffee table. "I'm not upset with you," Henry said in a low voice.

It's not a lie. Underneath relaxes, and the atmosphere in the room feels much lighter.

"Then why are you upset?" asks Underneath, now assured that the problem, whatever it is, can be solved.

"II don't know," Henry muttered, his eyes once again starting to water.

Wrong question, Underneath thinks, troubled, and searches his mind for a distraction.

What does Henry like? What do human children like?

Multiple trains of thought run through his mind as he absently strokes Henry's head. Even his gifts required persuasion. Henry tried to decline each time they were offered more than once, in some cases. Convincing Henry to accept a third gift is not advisable given the child's frailty.

This current situation calls for direct action.

A sniffling sound draws Underneath's attention down. Henry stayed very still, careful not to slam his arms or shoulders against Underneath's chest.

Touch. That's another mystery altogether.

Children love to be petted. At least this one does. However, Henry leans in for some touches but backs off on others. Therefore, as the wildest of creatures, Henry must be approached with care and drawn to feelings of safety and security.

Gently, Underneath curls the boy's head inward until the side of Henry's face is tucked against his chest, sweaty hair flattened against the illusory feel of black silk.

The sniff turns into a squeak, then fades into silence. Underneath takes the young man's cheek, patting him. There, there, he thinks absently, hoping the touch will be enough.

Henry does not verbally respond to his mental stimulation, but the scent of distress has begun to wane. Underneath runs a hand through the child's unruly hair, undoing the damage caused by Henry's temporary misery.

Gradually, Henry's breathing slows. Although Underneath can feel the boy's continued attempts to keep himself upright, to avoid putting too much weight on Underneath's arm and chest, it's a losing battle. Henry settles closer, closing his eyes, his small hand tentatively clinging to the loose silk that curls along the folds.

And so on, with Henry being taken into the heat of the demon cradling him. It is the slowest passage of time that Underneath has experienced in recent memory, or the most convincing.

Henry makes a soft snorting noise. i

Underneath ceases all supplementary lines of thought, narrowing your focus. If you're not mistaken, the puppy has fallen asleep deeply and is now snoring.

With the task of calming Henry done, Underneath casts a critical eye on the rest of the room. It is not convenient for the boy's other relatives to return and see such a scene.

After a long pause, Underneath takes the boy out of his shirt and places him on the couch. Henry curls up on the pillow, a small frown marring his round face.

"I'll be back," Underneath says to the silent room.

The ring around Henry's neck will guarantee that.

Henry wakes up to something scratching his cheek. It takes several embarrassing moments for him to realize he's lying on his side with his face buried in a pillow, and even longer to realize he's fallen asleep.

Then Henry feels something inside him twist. He had fallen asleep. He wasted precious moments of seeing Mr. Matthew because he was crying for no reason. He cried so hard he broke down, and then he fell asleep on Mr. Matthew. No wonder he was placed on the couch. Mr. Matthew probably got tired of carrying it.

Looking around, Henry opened his mouth to apologize, rubbing his sore eyes and looking around the room.

"Are you awake now, Henry?"

"Mr. Gordon?" asks Henry, confused. He turns his head quickly, looking for his friend. Mr. Matthew. For the sleek black suit or the tall, dark horns that sometimes protrude from Mr. Matthew.

Henry sees that all four cats are back inside and resting on top of various pieces of furniture.

The twist inside him gets worse. Henry pulls his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and as he does so, he feels something poke his thigh.

Henry feels all of his arms and legs loosen as he slams his hand awkwardly to his chest, closing his fingers around the jagged metal. Your gift is still here. Mr. Matthew hasn't taken it out, which means he still wants Henry to visit him.

Tibbles meows, climbing onto the couch next to Henry. Without thinking, Henry drops the ring back and picks up the cat, placing Tibbles on his lap.

"Hello," whispers Henry. "You're a good boy, Tibbles, aren't you? You're a very good boy." He strokes the cat's fluffy fur. "And you have a lot of really good friends."

The cat purrs at his touch, rubbing Henry's palm and fingers. Henry smiles.

"Would you like a hug?" Henry asks aloud. Then he watches for a response, waiting to see what the cat thinks.

Tibbles meows a second time. Henry decides it's a yes, and wraps an arm around the furry body in a gentle squeeze. Tibbles allows this, and sits patiently while Henry pats his head a few more times, staying still even when Henry sneezes.

"Henry," says Mr. Gordon. "I think your aunt is outside."

Somehow, Henry doesn't feel as sad as he usually does when he thinks about going back to the Dursleys'.

"See you soon," Henry tells Tibbles, placing the cat back on the rug. He looks at the rest of the cats. "See you guys very soon, okay?"

Tibbles headbutts Henry in the ankle. Henry gives the cat one last good-bye pat and nods to Mr. Gordon, who leads him to the door.

See you again soon, Henry thinks, taking a deep breath.

As Henry walks back with Aunt Karen to 34 Weston Ave, he focuses on the promising feel of the heavy weight in his chest.

When Henry returns to his locker after cleaning all the dishes, he pretends the ceiling is the endless night sky, mostly dark except for a few special places.

When Henry goes to sleep, the little fingers wrapped around Mr. Matthew, he imagines he is a small star next to a large, bright moon.