Harry was one of the last students to disembark from the Hogwarts Express. The platform at Hosgmeade had for the most part emptied and Hagrid had already led the first years down to where the boats were waiting.
Setting down Hedwig's cage, Harry knelt down to undo the latch. She nipped impatiently at his finger as the door opened, hopped out to ruffle her feathers and with one final hoot, stretched her wings and launched herself into the night sky.
Lyra circled on the ground, watching longingly as the owl soared higher and higher.
"You can join her later," Harry muttered. Lyra's large brown eyes fixed on him. It didn't matter that she couldn't speak, he knew what she wanted.
They followed the floating lanterns lighting the path which lead to the large gathering of students and dæmons waiting for a ride up to the castle.
A short distance away, Hermione emerged from the crowd. Crookshanks was squirming in her arms, while Ramiron balanced on her shoulder. As soon as she'd broken free, she stormed up to the clearing around Harry.
"Harry, what an earth were you doing-" Hermione said.
Harry didn't answer, and stepped up to the nearest threstral. Its large bone like wings extended oddly out of its shoulders, and the collar that was fitted around its neck linked up to a wooden shaft. The group of third year Ravenclaws who had been about to board scattered.
Lyra weaved herself around Harry's feet and leapt up onto the metal step. Hermione scowled, but still climbed inside after them both.
"You know Snape's going to hear about this too."
Harry sat down, closed his eyes and pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
"What's your point?"
Ramiron jumped off Hermione's shoulder onto the squashy seat as she continued to wrestle with Crookshanks. She sniffed and pulled a face.
"Well aside from you trying to get yourself arrested, it would also be nice if Gryffindor didn't come last in the house cup for once."
Harry shrugged and cracked his good eye open.
"Last I asked, the sorting hat would have put me in Slytherin," Harry said. "Tell that to Snape."
Hermione glared at him.
"You know that's not what I meant-"
The carriage door swung open and Ron clambered in with Sephronia. He spared a glance between Hermione's furious expression and Harry slumped against the chair and sighed.
"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said. "Malfoy had it coming."
Hermione's glare was redirected towards Ron instead.
"That doesn't make it right," she burst out. "Specially under the circumstances. There's no reason for Harry to take such risks-"
"Harry disarmed him," Ron said. "We all have wands, that's nothing to do with him being demented."
Harry opened both eyes and grinned at him.
"That doesn't matter!" Hermione said. "You know what Fudge is like. He just needs one excuse."
The carriage door clicked open again, and they all turned surprised.
"Hey guys, mind if I join you?"
Neville was standing on the step with his head peering in. Cyrilla, his rabbit dæmon was held precariously in his arms. She squirmed and kicked her back feet out in a desperate bid to escape but Neville only held her tighter. Without waiting for an answer, he climbed in and shut the door behind him.
The threstral began to move, following the line of skeletal horses in the procession up to the castle. Hermione chewed her lip but she didn't say anything else.
Ron leapt at the opportunity.
"How was your summer, Neville?" he asked.
Neville's smile slipped and he shrugged.
"Alright, I guess."
The dust like light around Cyrilla flickered. It wouldn't normally have mattered but it was the last thing Harry needed right now. He looked away and shut his eyes again.
He could hear Ron talking, felt Lyra jump into his lap as Harry absently weaved his fingers through her light brown fur, saving her comfort. The carriage continued to wind itself down the path, but that did little to alleviate the distraught rabbit. It was suffocating.
After a few minutes when Cyrilla's dust like light pulsed again, Harry lost all patience. Both eyes snapped open, making the three other dæmons flinch.
"Neville, what's your problem?"
There was another distortion. A ripple of light, which had the power to disrupt and throw everything into chaos. Sephronia and Ramiron exchanged tentative glances, but given Lyra merely yawned and stretched out in Harry's lap they looked somewhat calmed.
Neville jumped in his seat, a guilty look crossing his face.
"Sorry," he said as he did little to calm his agitated dæmon. "Actually...I wanted to ask you something, Harry."
Harry glared at him, his own fist clenching as he resisted the urge to grab his wand. Ron elbowed him hard in the side and shook his head frantically. With a reluctance, Harry took a second and forced himself to relax.
"What?"
Neville looked down, bit his lip and pulled Cyrilla tighter in his arms. She didn't seem to like this much for she thumped her back feet against him again.
"I was just wondering-" Then immediately he seemed to think better of it, his face colouring. "Never mind, it doesn't matter."
"Just say it," Harry said. Lyra growled, her own impatience mirroring his own.
"Right," Neville said, he glanced out the window, his voice coming out a mumble. "Just...did Tom really murder Scrimgeour?"
Hermione flinched, and Crookshanks scampered free from her grip to leap onto the back of the carriage seat. He hissed down at Sephronia who wasn't paying the cat any attention.
Hermione looked frantically to Harry, but given that he hadn't responded to any of her letters he didn't feel the need to elaborate now.
"Tom didn't, did he?" she started. "He couldn't have-"
"Course he could," Ron said, sitting back and crossing his arms. "After everything the Ministry has done, you can't say you were surprised when you heard?"
Harry ignored them both. That hadn't been the question Neville had wanted to ask.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt saw everything," Harry said, still watching Neville and Cyrilla. "After he escaped St Mungo's, he came and told me personally what had happened."
"Right." Neville looked down at his hands, seemingly not sure what to do with himself.
Hermione was still shaking her head.
"I thought the prophet must have been mistaken...Tom wouldn't kill Scrimgeour just because You Know Who told him too-"
Harry looked out of the window, his absent heart twisting as the dim lights of Hogwarts flickered in the distance.
"I know, Hermione," he said. "You don't need to tell me."
A coldness was descending in the carriage. And it could no longer be blamed on the dementors which used to guard the castle, they had been removed long ago.
"Should I leave?" Neville said, his hand moved to the door. Cyrilla's light flickered and pulsed again on the precipice of change.
Harry sighed and ran his hand over his face. It was all because of Tom. Even now there was a disconnect, a fluctuation rippling across their bond which even Lyra could not stop. His emotions had never been this temperamental, ever since-
He slammed that memory back into the deepest recesses of his mind.
"No, it's fine," Harry muttered, but then only because it was Neville and wasn't fair for Cyrilla added. "Things have been difficult recently, I'm not as in control as usual."
Neville flinched slightly, the realisation of what he had done apparent as a look of terror crossed his face. Cyrilla had gone very still, her own response just as drastic. At least her dust was settling, mirroring that of Sephronia, Ramiron and Lyra.
"I'll say," Ron said. "I thought you were just trying to intimidate Malfoy earlier, but well-"
He shivered, and shook his head, eyes glossing over. "It's been awhile since it felt like you were like an actual dementor."
Harry didn't say anything, his hands digging into Lyra's fur.
"Harry, did it start after the attack on Azkaban by any chance?" Hermione asked tentatively.
Harry shot her a haunted look, but he nodded.
"But Lyra's with you?" Ron said. "That's got to count for something, right?"
The carriage trundled along, bouncing as it hit a hard stone. Harry didn't answer as his dead eye swirled.
The Great Hall was heaving with people and dæmons, all eager to start the feast after such a long journey. High above their heads, the floating candles drifted over the four long house tables, and even higher still the ceiling reflected a thin cloud cover over hundreds of twinkling stars.
Harry glanced up at the teachers table as he took his seat. As usual his dead eye was immediately drawn to Aragog. The giant acromantula dominated the space, the huge spider moved in jerky, angry motions. It was hard to ignore the creature, even more so when his good eye showed only the tame semi-translucent dog by Hagrid's side.
"Stop it," Ron hissed.
"Stop what?" Harry said innocently.
"Looking at Ilaria. She's a dog, not a spider."
"Whatever makes you sleep at night," Harry said, before he shrugged. "Anyway, I thought Fred and George had given you the map, check it if you don't believe me."
Ron muttered something foul and stabbed his fork into the table in the absence of any food to attack.
Harry looked back up to the top of the hall, but his own smile faltered. A few seats down from Hagrid there was a dæmon without a bond linking them to their human, which could only mean a Death Eater or-
"Itzel," Harry cursed. "What in merlin's name is Moody doing here?"
He didn't get to comment further as there was a small headbutt against his leg. Lyra made to do it again, but he twisted down to stop her.
"Stay with me a little longer, please?"
He had no right to ask.
To her credit, Lyra didn't protest as she prowled around his feet. It was unfair, she knew the risks that her absence would create and Harry had done little to make her presence by his side any easier. Her light swirled under his influence as she jumped up onto the bench beside him. Harry scratched his fingers behind her ears and she flicked her tail barely appeased.
A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall led the group of nervous first years up the middle of the hall to where the scruffy old sorting hat was waiting. The dæmons among them fidgeted restlessly, and it only got worse as Professor McGonagall started to call them forwards one by one.
"Come on," Ron muttered as Daisy McCaskill was sorted into Ravenclaw. "I swear this takes longer every year."
Harry hadn't noticed. He'd been watching each of the new dæmons with interest. A number of them had jumped in surprise as soon as the hat placed on their person's head, which had given Harry a very exhilarating idea.
"When you got sorted could you hear Sephronia inside the sorting hat?" he asked.
"Course," Ron said. "How come?"
The hat was currently on Matilda Montague's head. Her dæmon, a small guinea pig was sitting in her lap, and it looked like he was looking around nervously.
"I couldn't hear Lyra," Harry said.
"Well she wasn't visible then, was she?"
"I guess."
The hat had heard her though, but more importantly Harry had been able to hear Tom. The rush of adrenaline almost made him have the urge to stand up and go and put the hat on in front of everyone.
The sorting hat opened its brim on top of Matilda Montague's head and shouted.
HUFFLEPUFF!
The was a smattering of applause as Professor McGonagall proceeded onto the next student. By the time Michael Wadley and his mouse dæmon were sorted into Gryffindor, Harry had imagined half a dozen ways to steal the hat from Dumbledore's office.
"Finally!" Ron announced as dishes of foot materialised on the four house tables.
He dived for the potatoes, and Sephronia barked happily as he threw her some chicken.
Harry didn't have an appetite. He picked at his food, occasionally glancing back up to teachers table. Dumbledore was in deep discussion with Moody which sent a prickle of fear down the back of his neck. Moody would certainly complicate things.
Lyra started pacing around at his feet, replicating his agitation. It didn't help that every few minutes she'd inch her way towards the doorway, each time only coming back when she was called.
Just when he'd decided he would probably skip pudding and head up to his tower, all the plates cleared, and Dumbledore got to his feet. The noise level that had been steadily growing ceased immediately.
"Well now, just before you start your deserts, I require your attention for a few important announcements..."
"As some as you may be aware, due to unforeseen circumstances Professor Grus Hopkirk will not be returning to his post this year. Therefore, I am pleased to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alastor Moody."
There was no round of applause. Every students seemed to be staring opened mouthed at the auror's hundreds of scars that covered his face. Whereas their dæmons had a much more significant problem. Seamus' fox buried her nose into his side.
"Where's his dæmon?" Ondine whispered. "I can't see his dæmon."
Dean Thomas' dæmon, a cat called Patroka slunk onto his shoulder to get a better look.
"I don't see one," Patroka said. "Maybe he doesn't have one?"
Harry fixed his dead eye directly on the red kite. Itzel's was perched on the top of the top of Moody's chair. She rustled her feathers and flapped her one remaining wing, using her forked tail for balance as in turn, the dæmon fixed her beady eyes on Harry.
"She's sitting on the top of his chair," Harry said.
Ondine and Patroka flinched, but Ramiron jumped off Hermione's lap to get a little closer.
"He does have one then?" he asked asked.
Harry nodded, and he wasn't surprised to see Moody electric blue eye wasn't spinning in its socket, it probably hadn't been since Harry had entered the room.
Dumbledore cleared his throat again. He paused when he saw that everyone was latched onto his every word and then smiled.
"I also have a very exciting announcement to make. It is my greatest pleasure to let you know that the Decadæmon tournament will be taking place at Durmstrang Institute this year."
The silence which had been deafening from Moody's introduction broke. Nearly half the students burst into a round of excited chatter, while the other half looked just as bewildered and confused as Harry.
"He's joking, right?" Ron said.
"Doesn't sound like it," Seamus said. "I mean I'd heard something big was being organised, but I didn't think it would be this."
Dean lent across the table.
"What's the Decadæmon tournament?"
Before Ron or Seamus could answer, Dumbledore raised his hand again causing people to fall silent with hushed anticipation.
"For those of you who are unaware, the tournament was established seven hundred years ago as a competition between five of the largest wizarding schools at the time – Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Ilvermorny and Mahoutokoro. Two champions, along with their dæmons, were selected to represent each school. They were each tasked with competing in a series of magical challenges which were designed to test the bonds between dæmons and push the limits of magic."
"The tournament was hosted once every ten years, rotating between each school until there was an incident which resulted in certain schools refusing to take part."
"I read about that-" Hermione whispered, learning forwards. "It's in Hogwarts, A History."
"Shh-"
But Hermione wasn't the only one who had spoken. Several other groups around the room had their heads pressed together and were speaking in hushed voices.
"Due to a number of improvements and safeguards which has been implemented, this is the first time in sixty years where all the schools will be participating in the event..."
"Hogwarts will therefore, be sending a delegation of students who will go to Durmstrang in October, and the selection of the ten champions from five different schools will take place at Hallowe'en. An impartial judge will decide which students and their dæmons are most worthy to compete for the Decadæmon Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
The darkness where Harry's heart used to be swirled. He wasn't the only one latched onto every word. Around the hall, people were craning over other people's heads to get a better look, and several bird dæmons had taken flight to soar in tight circles above their owners heads.
"Those students wishing to compete should inform their head of house this week," Dumbledore continued. "We shall then make a selection and twelve students will be chosen to represent Hogwarts. Of course, this is a very dangerous and prestigious tournament, so only those students in their sixth and seventh years will be considered."
There was a collection of gasps and groans from some of the younger students. Followed by a collection of angry mutterings.
Dumbledore turned his gaze, casting his eye over each of the house tables. To his side, Fawkes stretched his wings and let out a soft cry which reverberated around the hall.
"I will however warn each and every one of you still interested, that this tournament should not be entered into lightly. It is designed to test you and your dæmon through a series of intense challenges. Only those who have unyielding bonds will be chosen as champions and even then, you won't return the same."
There was an uneasy silence which rippled across the hall. Dæmons fidgeted restlessly, their light all the more enticing as they wanted nothing more than to speak to each other in private. Harry pulled his attention away to refrain from drawing too deep a breath.
"Now," Dumbledore clapped his hands together and smiled. "I'll leave you all to enjoy dessert, I would recommend the chocolate cauldron cakes which are particularly good this evening."
No one seemed the slightest bit interested as puddings, cakes and sweets suddenly appeared, causing each of the tables to heave from the weight. Insyead the loud buzz in the hall had returned.
"Twelve students," Hermione said. "That's very competitive. And if they have to represent Hogwarts they'll want to take only the very best."
"Well I'm going for it," Ron said. "Harry?"
"Anywhere that's not Hogwarts works for me," Harry said. He would be away from the watchful eyes of the Ministry for almost an entire year. There would be no way Fudge would be able to monitor him properly at Durmstrang. Plus Harry had exhausted all options of getting out of the castle. Dumbledore had made sure to that. The headmaster and the Order wouldn't have the same freedom in another country.
Ron beamed at him, and turned back to Hermione.
"Hermione?"
"A chance to see another wizarding school is very tempting, I can't say much about the tournament itself yet though, from what I've read it was horrific what happened before-" She bit her lip and glanced sideways at Harry.
"It'll be fine now though," Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. "I mean how bad could it have been?"
From the colour that had drained out of Hermione's face, and the fact that Ramiron had buried himself into her jumper, it was clearly bad enough.
"What happened?" Neville asked.
"Well..." Hermione chewed her lip and glanced back towards Harry. "It was awful...and had never happened before, no one could have done anything at the time-"
"Some of the champions got separated from their dæmons didn't they?" Harry said.
Everyone who had been leaning in to listen, flinched. Ondine buried her head into Seamus' side. Galian stomped several times, causing Ginny to jump up to try and calm him, and Patroka slunk under the bench so that only her wide eyes could be seen peering up. The other dæmons went very still and quiet.
Hermione stroked Ramiron in an attempt to calm him and nodded.
"It happened at Hogwarts during the final task. The champions had to navigate through a giant floating maze while being physically separated from their dæmons...three of them were fighting to get to the centre...two of their dæmons ended up falling through several layers...along with the person who's dæmon was left up top...one of the champions died instantly from shock, the other attacked the stranded dæmon and became completely demented...and the last would have be tempted to do the same if she'd not been stopped..."
Nobody wanted the specific details. Several of the listening students looked frightfully towards Harry and his ashen face and dead eye.
"That's all in Hogwarts, A History?" Ron whispered. His fingers clenched into Sephronia's fur.
Hermione nodded again. "There's been plenty of deaths before in the tournament, but that never deterred anyone before, but losing a dæmon...it's against everything the tournament stands for. Hogwarts and Ilvermorny stopped competing...and the other schools held a reduced tournament that had nothing of the same spectacle or vision that the fundamental principles of the decadæmon tournament was based...it became more like a competition for witches and wizards without the focus on dæmons. It was renamed the triwizard tournament for the last few iterations...I guess now they want to try and establish the original intent of the event..."
"Dumbledore said they'd made it safety now," Ron said. "I mean just think, a thousand Galleons..."
"What happened to the witch who lost her dæmon?" Harry asked. "The one who didn't trigger a transformation."
"She was one of the Hogwart's champions," Hermione said. "So she's probably still in St Mungo's-"
Harry couldn't help it. The rattling breath caught in his throat, the draw of the nearby dæmons filling his lungs, drowning him in the one thing he craved above all else-
Cyrilla twitched and thumped her back legs against the bench. Her golden light was agitated, pulsing in rapid movements. Lyra leapt onto the bench beside her and let out a small squeak.
Neville's fists were clenched, the terror in his eyes visible.
Harry slammed his eyes closed, throwing up every ounce of control. An emptiness filled his mind, but the horror of sixty years trapped in St Mungo's could not be dispelled. The walls of the clinical prison were closing in around him, the memory all to vivid, as if he had never left and he was left with only that desperate hunger. Completely alone. Without a dæmon.
"Harry-"
It was the only warning they got. Cyrilla thumped her back foot on the bench and in one fluid movement she transformed.
The burst of light exploded in Harry's dead eye, rippling outwards. The distortion was an energy that had to be taken and devoured. And it wouldn't stop.
Cyrilla was first a cat, then a mouse, and then a crow-
Each transformation rapid and powerful. There was no time for magic, or reason, only time to devour. A delirious grin split across Harry's face as the darkness smouldered around him, so cold and encompassing.
The twinkling stars high above disappeared. The shadow swirled, consuming all surroundings as the torches on the walls flickered and died. The silence was deafening, the panic of the nearby dæmons muffled.
Harry had one leg over the bench, his movements calculated as he snatched out a decayed hand towards the dæmon. Lyra leapt forwards onto the table, snarling and biting, knocking over the pitcher of pumpkin juice. Her light although beautiful and intoxicating could not compete unless she too transformed.
There was a flash, and a severing pain ran through his outstretched fingers. Harry whirled, his own hand diving into his pocket-
Ron's wand was pointed right at him.
"Expecto Patronum."
There was a burst of cold light overpowering all other senses. Harry recoiled, the darkness imploding inwards, held against Sephronia's intrusive form. White light radiated from her in pulses, and she leapt forwards, placing herself as an impenetrable barrier between Lyra and Cyrilla.
A red light flashed in his periphery, the curse striking him on his left temple.
The world spun, and Harry fell backwards. The thirst and hunger to devour was his only instinct with each and every dæmon his prey-
Crack.
His head slammed against the floor.
