Fredbear's Family Diner had long since stopped being just an abandoned building. With every passing day, it was becoming theirs—a sanctuary, a workshop, and now, a home.
Harry and Plushtrap had both agreed it was better to stay.
There were too many unknowns outside—the mysterious robed figures near Privet Drive, and the Dursleys, who would never accept what Harry had become. His reflection alone was enough proof of that. The white hair, the violet eyes, the subtle glow under his skin… it wasn't something that could be hidden anymore.
So they stayed. They cleared one of the old storage rooms, sealing the cracks, repairing what they could. The smell of oil and dust lingered in the air, but Harry didn't mind. He didn't need warmth, or much food, or even sleep the way he once did. The Remnant had changed his body's needs—he could go days without hunger, hours without blinking. His heartbeat was slow and steady, like a machine set to perfect rhythm.
Plushtrap helped him set up a living space—metal sheets for walls, a clean cot, shelves of scavenged tools and notes. The hum of machinery became the lullaby of their new life.
It was during one of these quiet days that they discovered something new.
Harry had been adjusting one of the broken cameras in the dining hall when it happened—his vision flickered. For a moment, he wasn't seeing through his own eyes. He was seeing from Plushtrap's perspective.
The tiny animatronic froze, blinking rapidly. "Uh… Harry? Are you—" "—seeing what you see," Harry finished, voice calm but fascinated. His tone carried no surprise, only analysis. "Interesting."
They tested it over the next few hours, running controlled trials through the diner. Plushtrap scurried between rooms while Harry remained seated, eyes half-closed. Every motion Plushtrap made, Harry saw through him—clear as day.
He could hear through Plushtrap too, the world doubled in sound and light, overlapping yet distinct.
Then Harry took it further. He opened his eyes, focusing on both perspectives at once—one human, one mechanical. For a moment, the world split and merged, half vision and half synthetic feed. It was dizzying, overwhelming… but exhilarating.
When he finally blinked, his breathing came slow and even.
"No range limit, as far as we can tell," Plushtrap summarized, tapping at the terminal. "Signal's clean. You can piggyback on my sensors no matter where I go."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "A shared network between us," he murmured. "A direct Remnant link. Not just mind to machine… but soul to soul."
Plushtrap tilted his head. "Creepy. Useful, though."
Harry smiled faintly. "Efficiency matters more than comfort right now."
But as the days passed, not every discovery was so welcome. Sometimes, when the lights dimmed and silence filled the diner, Harry would feel… restless. A strange, burning energy under his skin. It wasn't pain—just a pressure, an urge. Thoughts whispered at the edge of his mind—images of chaos, of testing how fragile the world really was.
Sometimes, he imagined flipping the breaker just to hear the panic in the dark.
Sometimes, he wanted to see what would happen if he pushed someone too far.
He never acted on it.
But the want was there. Cold. Curious. Playful.
Plushtrap noticed it too—the way Harry's eyes would flash faintly when he went still, the way his fingers twitched when silence lingered too long.
Harry always caught himself, grounding those thoughts, forcing logic to override impulse. But he couldn't deny that something inside him had changed. Not just his body. Not just his mind. His emotions were… unstable. Simplified.
Less human.
One night, while the diner buzzed softly with electrical hum, Harry stood beside the control console, watching the faint flicker of the lights reflected in the floor.
"We'll need to continue the fusion," he said finally. "The Remnant isn't fully stable. If I stop here, I'll plateau."
Plushtrap hopped up onto the counter, crossing his tiny metal arms. "You sure about that? You're already halfway to glowing in the dark."
Harry's smile returned—small, sharp, unreadable. "That's why we'll be careful this time. Incremental doses. Observation and control."
"Guess that makes this… phase two?"
"Phase two," Harry confirmed, turning toward the softly humming machines. His violet eyes glowed faintly as he looked at the injector bay. "Let's see just how far I can go."
The lights flickered once—then steadied.
Outside, the world moved on in ignorance.
Inside, Harry and Plushtrap prepared for what came next.
And in the quiet heart of the diner, the boy who had been human planned his next evolution.