Harry's dead eye focused on the darkness of Mr Crouch's office.
"After you, Harry," Dumbledore said.
Harry pushed the door open, not bothering to knock if it was an empty room. He stopped on the threshold.
A wizard with grey hair was bent over the desk and a dæmon, a huge bird of prey, grappled the back of the leather chair with its talons. The osprey fixed her large beady eyes on Harry.
Harry stared back, a sudden startled pain in his chest at the sight. There was no golden light of a dæmon, not even a whisper and the link which connected wizard to dæmon was missing.
It was wrong.
Harry took a deliberate, rattling breath, drawing more than air from his surroundings. Mr Crouch didn't flinch, his dæmon not even bristling a feather. She wasn't like Tom, who was a void in the shadow.
This dæmon didn't exist.
Mr Crouch stood, and gestured to one of the two seats.
"Mr Potter, please sit down."
Harry didn't move, thrown by the impossibility. Mr Crouch however, was already turning to Dumbledore with a polite nod of his head.
"I trust it didn't go so well with Rufus, then?" Mr Crouch said.
Dumbledore took a chair, accepting a coffee from a pot that had just floated over. It balanced in the air precariously as it tipped some into a mug.
"It is not entirely unexpected. It was only a matter of time, not a week goes by where I don't receive half a dozen letters from concerned parents. The school governors have been facing pressure from Cornelius for weeks."
Mr Crouch nodded simply, before noticing Harry had not moved.
"Mr Potter," he gestured once again for him to join them.
Harry forced his feet to move, trying to look anywhere at the osprey, but there was no mistake.
This man was an imposter. A Death Eater who could separate from their real dæmon, whereas the real Barty Crouch was missing.
As soon as Harry sat, the pot of coffee floated over, but he brushed it away.
Mr Crouch linked his fingers together.
"I don't suppose you recall, Mr Potter, but we met once about four months ago," he said.
Harry shifted slightly. This Death Eater had been inside the Ministry for a long time.
"I remember," Harry said stiffly.
Mr Crouch nodded.
"I told you then that there were others interested in your fate outwith the Wizengamot," Mr Crouch said. "Well I'm pleased to inform you that you have been offered a place at a number of other magical institutions."
Harry blinked, feeling Lyra shift restlessly in his pocket.
"Sorry, what-"
Mr Crouch smiled.
"Albus asked me to enquire into the possibility of continuing your schooling abroad should the Wizengamot initially decide that your attendance at Hogwarts was not suitable. Now, with the Minister still refusing to return your wand, the best way forward for your education would be to ah- start afresh, as they say."
The shadow inside Harry pulsed, replicating his thumping absent heart. If Harry left the country, it would be harder to find Tom. But not being able to learn magic would make it impossible. He turned to Dumbledore startled.
"You want me to leave Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore bowed his head.
"You will always have a home at Hogwarts, Harry," he said. "Although you have been able to attend classes it is not ideal to continue doing so without the use of a wand."
"Most institutes and their associated governments have no qualms with you learning magic," Mr Crouch said. "Simply, you have a choice, Mr Potter."
Mr Crouch's fake dæmon peered down at him, tilting her head in an alien way.
Looking anywhere but at her and feeling completely out of his depth, Harry desperately wished Tom was with him.
"I don't know about any other wizarding schools," Harry said blankly.
"Well, I can help you there," Mr Crouch said. "There are many fine institutions, however the two which have the closest links to Hogwarts are Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute and they have both offered you a place..."
"Beauxbatons is a prestigious school located in southern France, they pride themselves with excellent wand work and have produced some of most excellent witches and wizards over the last two decades," Mr Crouch explained. "I have visited the school a number of times, and the château is breathtaking."
Harry looked between the two of them, and Lyra twisted in his pocket once more.
"Do I have to decide now?" Harry asked, voice slightly raised. This seemed like a pretty significant decision, and it felt odd to just decide on a whim.
"Ideally," Dumbledore said. "If you are to enrol, then it would be a good opportunity to do so before the new term starts."
"Right," Harry said slowly. "What about Durmstrang?"
"Is another excellent school, although its precise whereabouts are unknown. They are very selective in their students, particularly with their dæmons who they pride above magic itself," Mr Crouch said. "Their initial offer was based on Tom Riddle's presence, however, as you currently have no dæmon present it may complicate matters."
"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Durmstrang have been known to make exceptions."
"One exception," Mr Crouch corrected and then his face twisted into something very unpleasant. "However, I'm sure Headmaster Igor Karkaroff would still be more than willing to accommodate Mr Potter in his current condition."
Harry frowned, but Mr Crouch's fake dæmon remained completely unemotional. It was so startlingly obvious, that Harry glanced towards Dumbledore to see if he had noticed. The headmaster seemed to expect Crouch's anger but was completely oblivious to the dæmon not mimicking the correct reactions.
"If Durmstrang are particular about their dæmons, surely they wouldn't want me?" Harry asked.
"You are forgetting, Harry," Dumbledore began with an annoying twinkle in his eye. "Despite being half demented, you are still famous and technically have two dæmons. You also have the ability to see a dæmons true form."
"Why does that matter-" But Harry broke off distracted, twisting in his seat as an approaching light caught in his dead eye.
Looking beyond, a bulldog dæmon was heading down the corridor straight towards them.
"Harry-" Dumbledore's voice was sharp, and Harry stiffened, having to force himself not to reach for Lyra.
"I thought I heard something," Harry mumbled but the damage had already been done. Dumbledore knew Harry couldn't see dæmons with his dead eye, not without Lyra.
The door slammed open.
Harry expected it, but he still jumped as the Minister for Magic appeared in the doorway.
Fudge looked far more warn out than Harry had last seen him. His face was pale and several large bags had formed under his eyes. Even Gracia had not been spared the stress of Lord Voldemort's return. She had several patches on thinning hair, and a bald spot behind her right ear from where she'd been scratching at it.
"Good morning, Cornelius," Mr Crouch said. He started gathering together the numerous pieces of parchment from his desk. Fudge however, took several brisk steps across the room and snatched up a prospectus for a place called Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
His eyes bulged as he scanned the page.
"What is going on?" Fudge demanded. Gracia barked angrily, snapping her teeth towards the only visible dæmon in the room. In response, Mr Crouch's fake dæmon stretched her wings lazily, unperturbed by the yapping bulldog.
"I was just discussing alternative schools with Mr Potter here," Mr Crouch said pleasantly, holding up a section of letters with different crests on the headers. "He's just been contemplating his options."
Fudge pulled a very disgruntled face and yanked his bowler hat from his head.
"Now, see here Dumbledore," he snapped. "You've gotten away with pushing the boundaries before, but this is too much. Potter can't be allowed to use magic, it's unethical."
Dumbledore pulled back his chair and turned to face Fudge.
"Unless you have a reason to stop Mr Potter from leaving the country?" Dumbledore said. "Then he is more than in his right to learn magic in another country which has a law less authoritarian."
Fudge spluttered at this, twisting his bowler hat between his fingers.
"It won't change anything," Fudge said, jerking his head towards Harry. "As soon as Potter steps back into our borders he will have to forfeit his wand."
"I would have thought if Harry returned to Britain fully trained you would want him to be armed?" Dumbledore said. "Or do I need to once again remind you about what lies in the depths of the Department of Mysteries?"
Fudge's face went a very deep shade of purple, one that looked reminiscent of Uncle Vernon whenever Harry had spoken to Tom in a public space.
"Do not think I haven't considered all factors carefully," Fudge fumbled with his collar. "I cannot be seen to be making exceptions, the goblins will be after wands next-"
"Then perhaps you should reconsider Mr Potter's position, recognising the paper that is progressing to the Wizengamot is just as applicable to other creatures who have the right to access magic. I believe that goblins have reacted very positively to the prospect of change-"
"It will not happen!" Fudge snapped. "Goblins will not have wands-"
"I don't know," Dumbledore smiled gently. "Goblins have plenty of gold, I know a number of those in the Wizengamot wouldn't say no to a few more galleons."
"I will not have illegal practices undermining our laws." Fudge pointed his finger at Dumbledore. "If you are threatening our very way of life-"
"I am doing no such thing," Dumbledore said. "As a member of the Wizengamot I am in my right to submit changes to the law. I was merely pointing out, in the timescales the paper will take to progress through the Wizengamot, a few years is not a very long time to address any corruption which may influence it."
Fudge seemed to be biting his tongue, his eyes flicking to Mr Crouch who merely nodded his head.
"Albus has a point, Minister," he said. "Of course, if a goblin has the right to a wand they'll automatically assume other rights, including being allowed to sit on the Wizengamot itself. I would be interested to see what laws they would propose-"
Fudge seemed to have completely lost the capability to speak, his mouth hanging open as the implication hit home a little too hard.
"Goblins- I'd be thrown out of office-"
"Not necessarily," Dumbledore said but he fell silent at the look of contempt that Fudge shot him.
"And will you withdraw the paper?" Fudge demanded. "If Potter gets his wand back?"
"Certainly," Dumbledore said smiling.
Fudge looked like he'd swallowed something very unpleasant. He was still spinning his bowler hat very fast in his hands.
Without daring to believe, the shadow in place of Harry's absent heart twisted.
He didn't dare hope, but then with a great reluctance, Fudge finally jerked his head into a nod.
"Excellent," Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Harry will return to Hogwarts once the holidays have ended to resume his studies. Of course, you will be returning his cloak of invisibility and his wand to him in a timely manner?"
Fudge actually stammered at this, but Dumbledore was already turning back to Mr Crouch.
"Thank you for your hard work again, Barty. It looks like we will not need to progress any further with any of the applications. If you could please pass on the necessary responses it would be very much appreciated."
Crouch nodded, but Harry could detect no emotion from his fake dæmon to determine if the Death Eater was pleased with the outcome.
"Now, just wait one moment-" Fudge started.
Dumbledore however, was already pulling from his robe pocket an official looking piece of paper. It was folded into multiple sections, much like the maurader's map, and had a ministry's symbol on the top and red trimmings down the side.
"I have already taken to drawing up the legal documentation," Dumbledore said. He located the necessary paragraph and passed it across to Fudge.
It was clear from the Minister's sour face that he was trying to think of a way out. The quill remained suspended on the parchment for one second too long, and then with a muttered angry breath, Fudge scratched his name with ink.
Harry grinned, he would actually get his wand back. Maybe Dumbledore could keep Sirius Black safe until his trial after all-
There was a sudden fluttering noise from the doorway.
Harry spun, surprised to see a single piece of parchment flapping through a thin gap in the door, it was bright red and folded like a paper aeroplane with the words URGENT – FOR THE ATTENTION OF THE MINISTER across the wings.
Fudge snatched it impatiently from the air, ripped it open and his scowl turned into a horrible smile.
There was a silence, and Harry could feel a building dread replacing his momentary relief.
"Black is being given the Dementors Kiss," Fudge said triumphantly. "Scrimgeour's just given the go ahead. It'll be done before the hours out."
A hollowness drummed inside Harry. His next breath was dizzying, and an internal cold pierced his thoughts.
Dumbledore stood but Harry could hardly move. His legs were rooted to his chair, absent heart swirling as his rattling breath stole all warmth.
There was a second of disbelief where complete helplessness descended.
Lyra burst from his pocket. Scrabbling and clawing her way out from the coat, down Harry's leg and onto the floor.
Fudge was frozen in his triumph, memo still clutched in his palm. Gracia recovered quicker, barking madly and jumping backwards. Mr Crouch's fake dæmon even managed to beat her wings, taking flight to land on the Death Eaters shoulder.
Lyra's presence captured the room, weaving amongst the chair legs, towards the door which had been left ajar. Then she was gone.
Fudge straightened, his face turning red, mouth half open as if about to speak. Dumbledore had taken a step forwards, but nothing he could say would change anything.
Harry moved without thinking or breathing. He dodged around the Minister, over a startled Gracia, hurtled past the old wizard and his hamster, broke back into the corridor, tore along the red carpet-
"Lyra-"
His plea failed. She had already passed the absent lift and her golden light was spilling downwards, leading down in long spiral movements.
Shoving his shoulder against the nearest doorway, Harry entered a wide twisting stairway. He threw himself over the banisters, swinging down a level, before he took chase three steps at a time.
A sharp pain ricocheted up his side. The need to remain close so could not be separated was growing in every anguished breath. He passed people and dæmons, racing down each flight of step.
The bottom of the stairway led to an open entrance way, Lyra's link to him spilling out through the archway.
The Atrium was packed. Scores of witches, wizards and dæmons filled the hall, some already turned towards a commotion which buried Lyra in a mix of golden dust. Reacting on instinct, Harry ran forwards, following the dozens of eyes that could only be looking at one thing. dæmons, who had only been momentarily confused by a solitary pine marten, now scattered in rabid panic.
Harry ignored them, tearing his way through the parting see of confusion, catching a glimpse of a pine marten.
Lyra darted through the thin grate of the nearest descending lift.
"No-"
Harry skidded to a halt, throwing himself at Tom's mercy. The surrounding dæmons vanished, Lyra's light disappearing as blindness took his dead eye. His connection to Lyra slipping away as she plunged to the lower levels.
Without waiting, Harry threw himself into the nearest lift. Three dæmons scattered, fleeing into the atrium and leaving their humans to yelp and scramble out in blind panic after them. Harry slammed his fist into the panel, doors rattling shut painfully slowly before he too was going deeper underground.
A burst of light erupted far below. Light rippled outwards, rolling in waves of energy and capturing Harry's attention utterly. It contorted and crashed around, transforming into multiple different forms before settling in the shape of a lioness.
Throwing himself at the bars, Harry wrapped decayed fingers around them, mouth twisting into a haunted hungry smile as he watched the dæmon move deep beneath. Nothing mattered but to pursue, hunt and devour.
Before the lift had even finished moving, another burst of light flashed. The wrong light.
Harry slumped to the floor, his strength seeping from him and limbs wilting.
"Calm yourself."
Fawke's voice echoed, projecting from his ethereal form. Oppressive and radiating in waves of energy that Harry had no power against.
The dæmon would not escape him. It was his prey to take.
Fawkes let out a soft murmuring note, magic rippled out in every direction, overwhelming and capturing every sensation.
Harry took a strangled empty breath, mind flicking between the need to hunt and the internal desperation that something was very wrong.
A deep coldness was consuming everything, pained memories resurfacing as the flesh dropped from his hands, the darkness crawling and rippling over his dead eye, gouging inwards.
He couldn't see or think. Everything was a blur of panic and fear.
"Lyra-"
The dementors had found her.
Harry's mind was broken. He was suffocating. The only option left was to sink into the darkness and drown, become demented and feed on all fear.
"Please-"
Terrible memories flicked thick and fast; Tom locked in the guillotine, Riddle slicing open his arm and the blood pooling in the cauldron, the blackness of the sky as shadow consumed.
"Find Lyra-"
Fawkes let out a long chilling note. It reverberated, cutting like shards of glass shifting through Harry's mind. In a burst of light the phoenix disappeared.
Harry stumbled out of the lift, clinging to what remained of his sanity. The instinct to hunt was deep, the need to seek out the dæmon his greatest compulsion.
Nothing would stop his desire and the need to consume.
Desperately, Harry reached out, begging Tom's influence to sink around him, to rescue his grasp on reality-
Tom was there.
Ready and waiting to embrace Harry at the smallest of requests. The warmth of his presence overwhelming and the distance between them non-existent. Tom was teasing his arms around him, fingers weaving soothingly against damaged skin and through sweaty hair, hot breath against his ear.
A strangled sob escaped Harry's decayed lips and he staggered into the wall, scrapping rotten skin against the stone. It was everything he craved and was deprived of.
The temptation to remain captured in this state was intense. Tom felt so close, skin pressed against Harry's, skimming over every inch of him. In return, Harry finger's grasp thin air, tears welling as he was left with nothing to hold onto.
His mind was clearing, replicating what only the forbidden potion had otherwise achieved. The singular event, the eruption of light when Lyra had transformed was no longer the thing he desired. Instead it was Tom, and his absence ached all the more strongly. Made all the worse that Harry had to leave it behind, slip out of the comfort and keep moving. He had to find Lyra.
Harry stumbled blindly, his vision from his dead eye blocked. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen. He tore through the corridor, throwing himself around the corner to where Black's cell was located. The door to the cell was ajar. There was no rush of cold from dementors, no aurors standing guard, was he already too late-
The room was just as he'd left it.
Sirius Black was standing up against the shield, eyes wide and alert, but very much alive and unhurt. Mintaka was back in her corner and her eyes darted frantically between Harry and Lyra who was pressed low to the ground, crouched low and ready to pounce.
They were no longer alone.
Scrimgeour stood in the centre of the room, wand gripped in his palm.
Harry collapsed onto his knees, clutching at the darkness that replaced his absent heart, his head spinning from the enormous exertion just to exist.
The auror's mouth was parted slightly, and there was a moment of disturbed silence before Scrimgeour's footsteps echoed across the floor. He moved to stand over Harry, looking down and observing his wrecked form.
"I had instructed the dementors to leave," the auror muttered. "You should have had free passage down here, given your reaction earlier-"
"Lyra," Harry whispered, shivering violently. "When she transforms, nothing will stop them-"
"Nothing?" Scrimgeour said, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise. "You did."
Harry didn't respond as blackness engulfed every sensation. If Fawkes had not been present...anger swelled at the very thought, it did not excuse Dumbledore for what he had already done.
Scrimgeour grunted, the only indication that he was vaguely impressed.
"You've improved, Potter."
Harry sunk under Lyra's influence and dæmons burst back into the vision of his dead eye. With great effort he forced himself to stand. He braced himself, a chill spreading rapidly into the room, extending from his own torment.
"I will devour your dæmon if you touch them," Harry said, voice sounding pitifully weak and tired. Nala still flinched however, and darted to hide behind Scrimgeour's legs. Behind the shield, Mintaka whined and pressed herself as far away from Harry as possible. Agitated, Lyra scrapped her claws against the floor and growled.
"No one is getting devoured today," Scrimgeour said, and he flicked his wand.
The door slammed shut and Harry heard the distinctive click of a lock. With the next flick, everything reversed.
Harry stumbled backwards, Nala's cold light just as oppressive as Fawkes had been. He fell into himself, chest tightening so that he could barely breath, was at Scrimgeour's mercy-
"Now," the auror stepped away from Harry and positioned himself in one of the wooden chairs. He crossed his legs and raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to control yourself?"
Harry gritted his teeth and glared at the auror, but made no further breath as he jerked his head into a nod.
"Good," Scrimgeour said, and with a twist of his wand Nala returned to her normal golden form. The tightness around Harry's chest diminished and he staggered, head spinning.
"Now...I knew you were hiding something the pair of you, but I never expected it to be something as simple as your dæmon, Potter. At least the secrecy on your part makes sense."
Harry was trembling from head to toe.
"The note to Fudge-"
Scrimgeour's mouth curled into a tight smile.
"Was only to get your attention, Potter. You clearly have formed some sort of connection with Black...which I do not understand at all. As far as you know he's the Death Eater who betrayed your parents."
"I-" Harry faltered, his rationale crumbling.
Scrimgeour had tricked him.
Harry didn't know whether to respect the auror or fear him.
Black pressed his burnt hands against his shimmering prison, eyeing Scrimgeour warily.
"Don't you dare take Lyra from Harry-"
Scrimgeour raised his wand, silencing Black in one twisted movement. He fixed his steady gaze on Harry.
"Believe it or not Potter, separating you from your dæmon is far down my list of priorities. I am fighting a war, and right now I'm fighting blind. Two of my colleagues are dead, and I have no answers for their families about why and how it happened."
"What about Fudge?" Harry whispered, he could barely think or draw breath. "He'll take Lyra away-"
Scrimgeour regarded Harry sternly, before he nodded his head in acknowledgement.
"Yes, he will."
Harry sunk to the floor, arms pulling around himself. He could already feel the walls of St Mungo's closing in. Alone. No Lyra, no Tom. No dæmons. Completely alone.
It didn't matter if Tom could keep him in control, Fudge had deemed Harry a dangerous creature and would sooner see him locked up, back in that sterile room where no golden light penetrated.
The coldness was creeping in and Lyra tore herself from the edge of the shield, finding Harry and burying herself into him. Harry clung to her, head buried into her shoulder and fingers digging weakly into her fur.
Fudge had seen her, there was no hiding now. But Lyra was his-
A stillness was growing in his head holding Harry suspended in despair, but he did not plunge further. Not if this would be the last time he would be with Lyra, he could not fail her now. Her golden light was perfect, tantalising and raw.
Harry's dead eye flicked up to pierce through Nala, equally bright in her golden dust. If he was quick enough-
Scrimgeour's raised his wand slightly, unprepared to take any chance.
"I'm not your enemy, Potter."
Harry inhaled, drawing more than air from his surroundings. Nala hissed, arched her back and bared her teeth. Scrimgeour held his wand steady, but he did not summon a patronus.
Instead, the auror braced the cold, his brow knotting into a frown, his eyes going slightly unfocused as his worst memories descended. Harry could taste them, each breath dark and rattling, pulling Nala towards him strand by strand.
In the shield next to him, Black staggered backwards. He pressed himself up against the back wall, embracing Mintaka tightly in his arms. The dog was shivering violently, the erratic strands danced around, but their was little of her left that pulled in Harry's direction.
Lyra was unmoving, staying perfectly still in his arms, but she was not afraid. And that gave Harry courage to hold his resolve.
Scrimgeour was right, he'd said it himself. The auror was fighting Death Eaters, not Harry. There were not direct enemies, and it was not him who wanted to tear Harry and Lyra apart. The Ministry was not a totality, that was evident from the number of aurors Dumbledore had in his grasp, and Fudge was just one man.
Harry stood, his grip loosening from Lyra.
He'd promised her. Promised that he'd never let them take her, and he would see it through, no matter what the cost.
Harry faced Scrimgeour, and took another deliberate rattling breath.
"What do you want to know?" Maybe he could still flee the country, he thought dully in the back of his mind.
Harry really wasn't sure how he had come to be sitting in Scrimgeour's office, a cup of scalding hot coffee in his hands. He sipped at it, dead eye alert for any sign of approaching dæmons.
The room opposite was occupied by two aurors Harry didn't recognise, their dæmons a bird and a frog. He'd already tried the locked door before ultimately deciding it was probably best to stay put and wait.
The last hour had been strange.
Harry's throat was scratchy, and tremors still passed through his limbs in occasionally violent bursts. His head was pounding, thoughts a blur as he tried to piece his memories together. Lyra burrowed into him, head rested on his knee and purring in a deep rumble, flicking her tail back and forth. Harry weaved his hands into her fur, watching, listening and waiting.
Scrimgeour had left ten minutes ago and had yet to return.
Harry had explained the events of the past few months best he could. Everything that was, except for the forbidden potion, Dumbledore's infiltration of the Ministry and the fact that Barty Couch was clearly a Death Eater in disguise. Scrimgeour had been very interested when Harry had spoken of the diary page, and even more to hear that Tom had destroyed it. He'd pushed relentlessly regarding any details Harry could give him on Sirius Black's rescue of Lyra and had listened intently when Harry explained how Tom had initially blocked his dead eye to prevent his temptation of dæmons.
When Scrimgeour had finally finished asking questions, he'd sat with his finger pressed to his lips for a full minute, and just when Harry couldn't take the silence any longer, the auror had taken out a quill, scribbled down another memo and sent it soaring away. He'd then led Harry up to his office via an entirely secret route which involved several steep staircases and two hidden doors.
Harry followed, only after gaining assurance that Sirius Black wouldn't be harmed, and would remain safe until his trial.
Absently, Harry took another sip of his coffee, watching as the tabby cat appeared back in his vision. Twenty seconds later there was a knock on the frosted glass plane.
Harry's breath rattled as the office door opened, surprised when the auror was alone. He had to squint to see the other dæmon that was about the size of a galleon.
"He's all yours, Rita," Scrimgeour said.
Rita Skeeter clutched her crocodile skinned bag, a loose strand of blonde hair dislodging as she peered over the top of her jewelled spectacles, mouth parting in wonder.
Harry stared back, watching the small beetle dæmon climb across a small broach on Rita Skeeter's magenta coloured robes.
She struggled to gain her own composure, hand already reaching into her bag to retrieve an acid green quill. She froze, before spinning back to Scrimgeour.
"What's your price?"
"There's to be no bad press in future regarding the auror department and once I've spoken to the bereaved families I'll give a press conference regarding the incident at Hogsmeade. If Potter wants he can fill you in on some of the details."
"Including about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew?" Harry tested, with a sideways glance towards Rita Skeeter. She nearly dropped her bag and her dæmon buzzed wildly in her hair.
Scrimgeour surprisingly nodded.
"Yes, Potter."
Rita Skeeter looked half terrified at the prospect of being left alone with Harry and Lyra, and half excited at what the auror was offering her.
"Photographs?" She asked hopefully, pulling a camera from her crocodile skinned bag. "Of course, we couldn't deny the chance for my readers to meet Harry's dæmon?"
"Lyra," Harry said. "She's called Lyra. Tom named her."
Rita Skeeter looked like Christmas had come early.
"You have free reign for the next half hour," Scrimgeour said, before turning leave. "Of course, I'm assuming Potter has no complaints?"
Harry chewed his tongue and shook his head, fingers curling into Lyra's fur. Scrimgeour was using him in exchange for showing the pubic that he had complete control, and Harry's reward for cooperating was Lyra. It would certainly make it harder for Fudge to act, and Harry would pay the cost a hundred times over.
"I'll be back shortly. Don't go wandering," Scrimgeour said with a warning look at Harry.
Harry was alone again. The dregs of his coffee had long gone cold and Lyra was pacing restlessly back and forth across the small office. It was hard to sit still, thoughts replaying his conversation with Rita Skeeter. She's been a much better listener than Scrimgeour, gasping in all the right places, asking questions Harry didn't even pretend to know the answers too, but ultimately she had her story.
Harry kicked the chair leg, disturbing Lyra who let out a low growl. What if he'd not come across right, or not given enough details about Sirius and how he'd found Lyra, or how Pettigrew had hidden for years. Tom had always been better at this sort of stuff.
Any details on Riddle he'd omitted, sticking instead to a loose description of Death Eaters hunting Lyra, and how Sirius was the reason they'd been reunited.
A light flickered, catching Harry's peripheral vision, drawing his attention to two approaching dæmons. Loud angry voices followed.
"I won't have it," Fudge roared. "The boy must be detained."
"Under what crime, Minister?" Scrimgeour asked. His voice had a sharp tone to it, one that Harry hadn't heard directed to Fudge before. "Potter has been fully cooperative with the auror department, at this point I'd struggle to have an obstruction charge stick."
For a panicked second Harry thought they were going to come into the office but Nala stopped just outside the door, turning to face Gracia.
"Under the Offences Against Magical Beings Act," Fudge demanded as his dæmon growled. "He's a risk to himself and to others-"
"I do not have sufficient evidence for that. Potter walked into the Ministry with his dæmon, he has every right to walk out again."
There was silence which was only broken by Gracia growling at Nala.
"What about the boy's wand, you were convinced he was using it-"
"Again," Scrimgeour said, as if they'd already had this argument. "Mr Potter has answered all of my questions sufficiently. I am satisfied I won't be able to arrest him...today at least."
There was an odd noise which sounded like Fudge coughing and spluttering.
"Just think at what you're saying! A dementor with a dæmon, it's not right, inhuman."
"Potter is a child," Scrimgeour said, his voice still had that sharp tone too it. "Who has been through unbearable trauma, ripping him away from his dæmon now would be counter-productive."
"Counter-productive?" Fudge stuttered. "Do you think that matters-"
There was a pause, and Harry could see Nala scanning the room for any eavesdroppers.
"Of course it matters," Scrimgeour said quietly. "If there is any hope in winning this war, then you know the role the boy must play-"
"Now see here, Rufus," Fudge said. "You can't seriously believe that? We have only the word of Dumbledore that the thing even exists."
"I've been to see it myself," Scrimgeour said coolly. "It's certainly there."
Fudge seemed to falter slightly.
"T-then you've heard it? It's true?" he said with a hint of a plea in his voice.
Nala bristled, circling Gracia who moved closer to Fudge, her link glistening.
"I can neither confirm or deny the contents."
Fudge let out a short laugh, almost hysterical.
"Then it changes nothing! I don't believe it, without knowing the precise words-"
"The answer is still no, Minister," Scrimgeour said coolly. "I have no legal authority to detain Potter."
"By all accounts," Fudge blustered. "No one needs to know, it'll be for the boys own good. She'd be devoured before the month is out if we do nothing. I've spoken to the healers and it's their professional advice to section him on medical grounds."
There was a pause and Harry couldn't help but shiver, weaving his hand into Lyra's fur and clinging to it tightly.
"I believe Potter was seen running through the atrium with his dæmon," Scrimgeour said. "I doubt he went unnoticed. The prophet probably have an article half written already-"
That certainly got Fudge's attention. He cursed, and Gracia was already halfway down the office before she stopped abruptly.
"Arrange for Potter to undertake an Animalistic test," Fudge instructed. "I'll be back shortly to oversee the results. If you could contact St Mungo's in the interim-"
"An Animalistic test?" Scrimegour interrupted. "Potter's more dangerous than his dæmon. It will prove nothing."
Fudge was loosing patience, he'd already started back towards the lift. Gracia raised her hackles, baring her teeth towards Nala.
"Just keep Potter secure while I deal with the press," Fudge demanded. "I'll be back within the hour."
Scrimgeour must have nodded for there was no further discussion. Gracia was leaving, moving further away, golden light restless from all the excitement.
Nala slunk back towards the office door, her link to Scrimgeour right behind.
Harry gripped Lyra even tighter. She braced herself, ready to tear herself across the room, snapping and biting.
The door unlocked.
Scrimgeour stepped into his office, his yellowish eyes piercing right into Harry. There was a silence, barely less than an absent heartbeat.
"You're free to go, Potter."
Harry thought he misheard. Was it actually possible-
Darkness spun, consuming his body. His legs felt suddenly very heavy; the room was spinning slightly. He moved automatically, Lyra practically tugging and guiding him along, through the door and across the office before Scrimgeour could change his mind.
Dumbledore was waiting by the lift.
He was talking to Kingsley in a low hurried voice. Amabel stirred, alerting the pair that they were no longer alone.
"The Minister went up to level one," Kingsley explained to Harry. "You've probably got a five minute window before anyone heads out to the prophet, but to be on the safe side-"
Harry didn't no further encouragement. He stepped into the lift, adrenaline surging, half delirious with Lyra alongside.
Dumbledore followed, looking completely calm despite the events that had just unfolded.
"What's an Animalistic test?" Harry asked, trying to gather his thoughts. He half expected Dumbledore not to answer, to berate him for bringing Lyra into such danger. Instead, an odd expression crossed Dumbledore's face.
"It is a cruel practice," he explained as the doors rattled closed jerking and once again they were moving back up towards the Atrium. "Occasionally when a child's dæmon takes the form of a dangerous animal the Ministry are required to determine if they have the potential to cause harm to others. In some circumstances, if the dæmon cannot be controlled, they will be artificially changed for the safety of others."
Lyra growled as Harry's stomach churned. Hermione had touched upon artificial dæmons when they'd first thought that the Ministry wanted to change Tom and not just remove him.
Harry glanced at Lyra's sharp teeth and claws.
"What counts as a dangerous dæmon?" he asked.
"Normal animals are very rarely a problem," Dumbledore said, nodding towards Lyra. "It is dæmons that have innate magical abilities that usually have to be tested."
"Like Fawkes?" Harry asked. His dead eye revealed no indication that the phoenix was nearby.
Dumbledore nodded.
"When Fawkes first appeared, he had the habit of setting things on fire whenever he was angry. I had to prove that he would not harm others, any more than a normal dæmon could."
"Like Merlin with his dragon dæmon?" Harry said.
Dumbledore inclined his head as the lift pulled to stop and the lift door opened.
"So a magical dæmon is an indication of how powerful the witch or wizard is?" Harry asked. "I mean Salazar Slytherin had a basilisk."
"It's a common misconception," Dumbedore said. "For example, Lord Voldemort is one of the most powerful wizards alive and yet his dæmon is a serpent, and vice versa there are those who had magical dæmons who may only scrape by in their OWLs."
"Has anyone ever failed?" Harry stepped out of the lift and followed Dumbledore through the crowds of people and dæmons. "Has anyone had their dæmon artificially changed?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Rubeus Hagrid's dæmon was originally an Acromantula by the name of Aragog."
Harry nearly miss-stepped, his stomach twisting. Fred and George had said something about the marauder's map and Hagrid's dæmon not having matching footprints. And there had been all those times when Illaria had acted strangely, or had outright been hostile to Hagrid. He could certainly believe it.
"I would ask you not to repeat that information," Dumbedore said, noticing the shock on Harry's face. "Hagrid's dæmon is perfectly safe as a hound and will not cause any harm to those around her, but there are always those parents who may have issue with the matter."
"Why tell me then?" Harry frowned, across the hall he noticed Mr Weasley and Temmie waiting beside the large fountain.
"Because when Hagrid returns to Hogwarts I believe you will be able to see Aragog with your demented eye."
Harry didn't say anything, but he weaved his hand into Lyra's fur as she walked beside him. When Hagrid was back from conversing with the giants for the Ministry, he'd have to see for himself.
They approached the fountain, dæmons scurrying in every direction to avoid them.
"Harry-" Mr Weasley looked deadly pale as Temmie hurried back and forth across his shoulders. "Is everything okay? Molly sent an owl when she couldn't find Lyra...I didn't think you'd bought her with you-"
Harry grinned tiredly at him. He was looking forward to getting back to The Burrow and collapsing into his bed. Maybe there was a slim chance things would work out after all.