"Even you make mistakes, Harry. It happens, and yeah people can die. How many years are you going to torture yourself for this with me sitting right here?" He asked, arcing a brow at him, meaning it.

"You don't got to thank me, Harry. I mean it. I'm not telling you that for you either. Not just for you. I'm sayin' it for me too."

He hadn't blamed Harry. Not like his mum had. Yet he had spent his entire life blaming a man he didn't know for being there that day, to the point of "using" him the day he'd gotten picked up. He couldn't know it would turn out like this.