Disclaimer: I own neither Hannibal nor Harry Potter.

Warning: Mild Violence.

It was a morning like any other.

The light that peeked through the window sills woke up the young man and he sat up immediately, his breaths slow and calculated. It was as if he was making sure he did not waste the air in his room. Smoke tendrils crawled out slowly from his mouth as he breathed out one last time before his alarm clock began ringing.

He carefully planted his feet to the carpeted floor, silencing the alarm clock with one hand. He took five steps to get to the bathroom door in his room, and three more to arrive into the shower. He went through his usual morning routines in the confines of his room.

The smell of freshly cooked meat welcomed him when he walked into the kitchen.

'Good morning father,' he greeted before entering the kitchen.

Hannibal nodded his acknowledgement, 'Good morning, Harry.'

'I had an odd dream yesterday night,' Harry said as he went to gather the utensils to ready the meal.

'Describe it,' Hannibal said.

'There was a woman screaming,' he said, frowning, 'and a flash of green light.'

Hannibal did not stop show the disappointment he felt. He had thought that Harry would remember the day he acquired him from his relatives. Hannibal had not foreseen that he would find a little boy under the stairs and had not been prepared to dispose of him like he did the others. Harry's relatives were an… unsavory bunch.

After a short silence where Hannibal realized Harry was expecting a response, he stopped what he was doing to look at the young man standing not six feet in front of him. Harry had grown to be a strong young man over the ten years they've been together. His hair was trimmed short and neat and his posture was confident. Nothing like the crying, crawling, useless two year old he found so long ago. He was also holding two sets of knives and forks in his hands.

'And what do you think your dream signifies, Harry?'

Harry gave him a lopsided smile that did not reach his eyes, 'I was hoping you would know.'

'In some Hindu cultures, dreaming of light signifies riches and honour. In Christian theology, Michael is the angel of death who 'leads souls into the eternal light'.'

'So basically nothing, huh?' Harry interrupted at the slight pause, heading towards the dining table to arrange the cutlery.

Hannibal shrugged, 'Dream interpretation is an inexact-'

It was at this moment that their normal morning routine was interrupted.

An owl soared into the kitchen, heading straight for Harry.

Harry reacted instantly, dropping the forks and distributing the knives so that he could have one in each fist. He lunged at the bird with practiced dexterity, surprising it in mid flight, and stabbed the bird from each side of it's torso.

The owl struggled violently in his grasp for only a second before Hannibal reached over Harry to grab hold of its head. There was a loud snap where he severed the connection between the body and the head of the owl, ending it's misery.

'It appears to have a letter on his leg,' Harry noted drily, letting go of his knives and reaching for the letter.

Hannibal pulled the dead bird away, 'We should approach this with care, Harry.'

'Of course, father. I apologize.'

'You should wash your hands again. We will uncover the contents of the letter after breakfast.'

Harry swallowed his curiosity, 'Of course, father.' He began walking towards his room again. He will probably need to change into clean clothes.

'And Harry?' Hannibal added, walking towards the kitchen with the dead bird.

'Yes Father?' Harry asked, pausing his steps.

Hannibal dropped the bird into the cutting board and said, 'Good work.'

Harry smiled brightly, 'Thank you, father.'