Harold's Worth

This particular chamber within the catacombs was small, so Oswald was limited in his mobility due to his larger size taking up more of the space than not.

Oswald shook the dust from his body. "Don't get cocky because you're a little older! You're a relic compared to us Harry!" He mocked.

Harold wouldn't stand for it. Any longer. He wasn't a murderer. He wasn't racist and he certainly didn't hurt folk, kids or otherwise. They were lies perpetuated by the fearful Humans looking for any reason, any justification, to end his life. He was no longer Human but that didn't mean he didn't consider himself one.

Though he was missing his arm. Though his body was covered in scars from their hatred: he wouldn't change. He deserved every bit of hate he received. After all, he fell to temptation. He was ill fated to suffer the consequences.

"Unlike you children who have not felt pain and think you've outsmarted it: don't be fooled. It is not forgiving."