Harry walked through the dark corridor, candle light flickering and barely projecting to the recesses of the stone walls. His steps were instinctual and his thoughts remained consumed on the past hour.

He hated to admit it, but Moody's lesson had been actually pretty good. It was probably worth missing Defence Against the Dark Arts class just to get some hands on real duelling experience.

The curses felt natural and instinctive. Harry itched to try them out with his own wand, knew that the phoenix core also had an affinity for dark magic.

The only concern was Dumbledore and Moody's motivations. The three unforgivables were no doubt useful to learn, however if either thought Harry would try and strike down Voldemort then they would be sorely mistaken.

Not when it would bring Tom's life into question. And when either realised that, the repercussions would be deadly.

At least Tom was capable and had always instinctively been able to replicate the Dark Lord's powers. Harry however, could not afford to be a hindrance.

Not with Voldemort, the Ministry and the Order on their heels. No. Harry had to learn quickly, and when the time came he would be the one to protect Tom...not the other way around for once.

In the distance, Harry could hear the clock tower chime the single bell to mark half ten.

With half an hour spare, he made his way back to his tower.

The over the top lock that had been placed on the door for Umbridge's benefit had been removed. So had all the other restrictions that had been scattered around the room.

The far more notable thing was that Lyra was curled up on his bed.

"Where have you been?" Harry said, throwing down his bag. There was the sound of an ink bottle breaking.

Lyra looked up and yawned, looking completely disinterested.

Harry relaxed his vision, allowing the castle which had been so dark before, to light up in a sea of gold. Dæmons shone in every direction, causing Harry to instantly let out a rattling breath he didn't realise he had been holding.

Lyra watched and swiped her tail back and forth. Harry crossed to the bed and sank into it, reaching out to run his decayed hands through her fur.

"I needed you today."

Lyra uncurled herself, and brushed up against his fingers.

Harry sighed, all anger and fear leaving him. Nothing could go wrong when he had Lyra. She made everything that little bit easier to deal with.

"Tom's sorted our bond out by the way."

Lyra fixed him with a clear look which expected more of an explanation.

"It won't be like summer, I promise," Harry said quickly. "My emotions should settle now...it'll go back to like it was before...you don't have to leave as much."

She flicked her tail again but didn't indicate either way what she would do.

Reluctantly, Harry shifted off the bed and away from Lyra. He had other things to worry about tonight, and her pesence alone had boosted his confidence to proceed.

Harry spun his dead eye into the depths of the castle. Fawkes and Laraine weren't present and Itzel was still in Moody's office.

Moving quickly and with purpose, Harry rummaged in his trunk and pulled out his invisibility cloak. Lyra sat up suddenly, watching him with her wide eyes as he threw it over his shoulders.

"Are you coming?"

Lyra leapt up and darted under the bottom of it, clambering up to shuffle her way onto his shoulder.

Harry teased his fingers into her fur, further relief washing through him.

He needed both Lyra and Tom. Anything less was not comparable.

The castle remained quiet as Harry crept through the empty corridors. The nearest dæmon to him was Tana, Professor Flitwick's dormouse, who scurried around the library several rooms away. Of course, Filch could still be lingering nearby or anyone who could separate from their dæmon, but Harry to pressed on urgently.

"Cherry Fondue," he whispered when he reached the stone gargoyle. It leapt aside revealing the moving spiral staircase.

Tentatively, Harry tapped his wand on the wall beside the stone gargoyle. It lit up a dim blue, indicating that it should be safe to proceed. He did the same just outside the office door, checking for any hint of an incantation that would alert someone to an intruder. It glowed blue again.

Dumbledore's office was empty. The portraits were fast asleep, the gentle sound of snoring filling the room.

Harry tiptoed, trying not to disturb anything as Lyra jumped onto the floor with a heavy thump. He shot her a look and hissed under his breath but she scurried out from under his feet. Harry shrugged off his cloak, following as he stepped around Dumbledore's desk.

Despite everything, his hands were shaking as he pulled the sorting hat from the shelf. For a second he held it in his fingers, terrified of what would happen.

Lyra squeaked.

"Yeah, I know." Harry whispered, darkness pulsing where his heart should be. With a single, terrified rattling breath he placed it on his head. It slipped over his eyes, blocking out everything but Lyra's golden light.

The hat didn't say anything.

Harry took a dizzying breath.

"Tom?"

The silence stretched on and a hard knot formed in the pit of his stomach. It had been foolish to think that this would work...

"Harry?"

Harry couldn't breathe, the air in the office was suddenly thick and stifling.

"Yeah," he whispered. "It's me."

Harry's chest felt like it would stop, that it would fail to draw breath. He couldn't believe he was actually speaking to Tom.

"I-I don't understand," Tom said, voice catching. "How are you doing this?"

Harry's words rushed out, barely sounding coherent in his excitement.

"The sorting hat...remember how we could hear each other before?"

"I remember," Tom said quietly. "Is Lyra with you?"

"Yeah," Harry nearly laughed in giddiness. Lyra's golden dust swirled restlessly. "She's right here."

Another silence. Harry itched to hold Tom, to actually feel that he was real. That it hadn't all been some very long dream.

"Harry-" Tom's voice sounded so broken, full of so much pain, and for the first time in two years a ripple of Tom's emotions filtered across their bond. "I'm sorry."

The effect was instant. Toms presence vanished. His absence was just like the silver guillotine intended. Yet it was worse because this had been Tom's choice, that he had deliberately cut Harry out.

"T-Tom?"

Deep rattling breaths consumed Harry. They wouldn't stop. And neither would the hot angry tears. Two years. It felt like a lifetime.

It just wasn't fair.

"Harry?"

Harry spun, yanking the hat from his head. He hurriedly wiped his face on his sleeve, but it was too late.

Professor Dumbledore was standing at the entrance to his office, holding his illuminated wand out stretched in front of him.

"I thought you had an Order meeting," Harry bit out. He didn't care that he wasn't supposed to be here, not after the day he'd been forced to endure.

Dumbledore lowered his wand.

"I'm afraid it was postponed due to an emergent issue."

"What issue?" Harry demanded, still trying to wipe his face dry.

Dumbledore looked almost sad as he peered over his half moon glasses. There was no twinkle in his eye.

"Because I was alerted to the fact that someone entered my office."

Harry looked down, clutching Lyra tighter to himself. The hat lay on the floor, but it didn't move or complain at where it had been disregarded.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, and he walked up and picked up the old hat, dusting it off a vigorous shake. "You know you just needed to ask."

"You'd have just said no," Harry muttered.
Dumbledore didn't deny it.

"Did you manage to speak with Tom?"

Harry looked away.

"No."

Dumbledore sighed and sat down at his desk, offering Harry the seat across from it. He crossed his hands and suddenly he looked very old and tired.

"I thought this might happen."

Harry clenched his fist and didn't say anything.

"It is my believe that Tom is reluctant to speak with you because he knows your conversations are not private."

Harry glanced up, his brow knitting together.

"What do you mean?" he said, before adding a hurried. "Sir."

"The sorting hat is a marvellous creation, it links one and ones dæmon within a single consciousness, so that both opinions can be considered when deliberating a students house."

"What's your point?" Harry said.

"You shared your soul with another piece of Voldemort's," Dumbledore said.

Harry frowned and sat back in his seat.

"Riddle? What's he got to do with this?"

"Everything," Dumbledore said, leaning forwards and pressing his hands together. "Riddle is connected to you in a way neither you and Tom can ignore. I believe that Tom would have spoken to you freely if he had known that Riddle was not listening in."

Harry stared at the headmaster, his mouth parting slightly.

"You think that Riddle can hear us?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"I certainly think it's possible, and I'm sure Tom has come to the same conclusion I have."

Harry shook his head.

"If Riddle was listening, that wouldn't have stopped Tom. Tom would want to talk to me."

Dumbledore peered back over his glasses, and then gestured towards the sorting hat.

"There is only one way to find out."

Harry looked towards the old hat, a sudden apprehension taking hold. With a tentative glance towards Lyra, he took an unsteady breath and placed the hat back onto his head.

"Riddle, are you there?"

There was no response and Harry was left with only his own nervous rattling breaths, each getting slightly deeper by the second. He was just about to pull the hat from his head when Riddle spoke.

"I forgot how bright you were."

The voice sent a shiver down Harry's spine. It was just like Tom's, so achingly familiar but there was something off. A fresh wave of hurt passed through Harry, and he couldn't find the words to respond. It didn't help that Riddle seemed to understand.

"Don't mind Tom," Riddle said. "Our Lord keeps a rather tight leash, and he would not be pleased if he knew you'd spoken."

That didn't make it any better. Harry hated how his own voice came out hollow. The accusation apparent and the jealously burned deep within him.

"Is Tom with Voldemort now?"

Riddle laughed softly, as if he was leaning down to whisper in Harry's ear.

"Oh, of course he is. The Dark Lord likes to keep Tom close. Just like a dæmon you could say."

The horror of that fact chilled Harry to the core. If Tom was kept constantly by the Voldemort's side, bound so that he could never be separated from him, then stealing him back would be next to impossible.

Harry wetted his lips, the darkness of his absent heart swirling as his thoughts raced wildly. He'd known it would be a real possibility, that his only way forward would be to convince Voldemort he was loyal, that he could be trusted above all else...trusted with a piece of his soul...

And convincing Voldemort, meant convincing Riddle.

"I never got a chance before to say. Your diary piece-"

Harry broke off suddenly, the fake concern in his voice wavering. He owed Riddle nothing. Not after everything that had happened to him but he had to start somewhere.

"You didn't take particularly good care of it," Riddle said. His voice had gone suddenly very cold.

The darkness inside Harry pounded for lack of his heart. The words had been deliberate, as if Riddle knew exactly what he was trying to do.

"A few words of advice, Harry," Riddle said. "If you wish for the Dark Lord to believe you had any concern that Tom destroyed a piece of me, you're going to have to try harder than that."

Harry ground his teeth, and he pinched himself hard on the wrist to stop himself giving into his anger.

"If I still had a piece of your diary I wouldn't have felt so abandoned for the last two years," Harry said stiffly. "I thought you above anyone else would understand that. I don't like being alone."

It had been enough. Riddle failed to hide the slight catch in his throat, the possibility that Harry desired a connection despite everything that had happened.

"You're saying you would take either me or Tom, if it came down to it?"

Harry grasped his own hand to stop it from shaking.

"I'm saying I would prefer to have you, over the absence of Tom." Harry could barely think straight, couldn't believe the next words he was about to say. The dangers of provoking a fire that had nearly claimed him before, but it had to be done.

Riddle's emotions were seeping through the hat, a horrible oppressive anticipation as Harry could only imagine his response. Although his words were guarded.

"I understand that you will do anything to reunite with Tom again," Riddle said coldly. "Even if it means bending a knee and pledging your soul to the Dark Lord, regardless of your true allegiances or loyalties."

Harry had a response ready for this.

"Why does that matter?" he bit out. "Have you not realised that if I never get Tom back, then I would do the same for you." Harry paused deliberately, the poisonous words on the tip of his tongue. "Although you found Nagini...I guess you don't need me any more."

"I found her," Riddle confirmed, but there was something off with his voice. A bitterness that could not be hidden. "That doesn't mean I'm finished with you, Harry."

The room suddenly felt cold and a trickle of fear slipped down the back of Harry's neck.

Riddle was silent for a moment, and when he spoke it did little to alleviate any rising dread.

"Would you have gone with me?"

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly tight and the darkness rising where his absent heart should be. The question was vague, but it was apparent what Riddle was asking, despite it being over three years ago. The night Harry had turned demented. If the Death Eaters hadn't caught up to them, if Riddle hadn't resurrected Voldemort, and then destroyed Harry past anything recoverable. If they had simply boarded a train and fled the country, leaving both Lyra and Tom behind.

"Yes," Harry said. "I promised you, didn't I?"

It was the only answer he could give.

The fact though that Riddle had needed to ask it though was worrying. If his doubts were not satisfied, then he would only demand more. Would need Harry to truly demonstrate that he would choose him, and not just as a means to get to Tom.

Riddle was clearly thinking the same thing.

"I would have you, Harry," he said softly. "Just know that I alone could offer you your deepest, darkest desires."

Harry pressed his lips together, they were very dry all of a sudden, and the darkness in his veins was pumping horribly fast.

"My darkest desires?"

He could just imagine Riddle's grin, the cruel light in his eyes.

"I know how precious you are, Harry. Understand far more than Tom that you have certain wants and needs. After all, how could I not after all that you had gifted me."

Harry dug his fingers into his knees, relishing the pain.

"Lyra." Riddle's voice was so soft, and delicate. "I know she's there."

"You know she can't talk?" Harry said. He couldn't move, he desperately wanted to end it, take his dæmon and run.

Riddle laughed.

"You gave me a piece of her. You can't keep her from me now."

"She can't-"

"Harry, it's okay."

Harry whirled, nearly yanking the hat off his head. The darkness in his veins throbbed, and a longing ache pressed hard in his chest.

There was a moment where he couldn't think, couldn't process the words out loud. The voice that he'd craved to hear as much as Tom's.

"Lyra-"

It wasn't possible. Lyra had never communicated through the hat before, not in first year or in third...but she had not revealed herself then. It was only after Riddle had interfered, had come between Harry and Tom, that she had taken a physical form.

Lyra stared up at him, her golden light visible through the brim of the hat. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. There was so much he wanted to ask, the questions brimming on the tip of his tongue.

The satisfied laugh from Riddle was unnerving, as he whispered her name in turn.

"Lyra, it's been far too long."

Lyra turned away from Harry slightly, her teeth exposed as she growled.

"I should have bitten your face off when I had the chance."

There was a horrible lurch in Harry's stomach, the realisation that she would betray his true feelings.

"She doesn't mean that-" Harry started, but Riddle cut across him.

"Oh I don't mind," Riddle said. "Given their animalistic tendencies, dæmons usually are wilder than their humans..."

"Shut up. I'm here." Lyra growled. "What do you want?"

There was another horrible pause. They all knew the answer to that.

"For our bond to be rekindled, you know I can't do it on Harry's words alone," Riddle said. "I need something far more substantial."

"Like I'd let you do that," Lyra hissed, her teeth bared again as she scratched her claws into the carpet.

"Hmm," Riddle hummed, but he didn't sound very upset at her refusal. "Yet still you interact with me. One would almost say you're hardly protesting very much."

Lyra growled, but she didn't speak which only caused Riddle to laugh.

Harry's head was spinning. He couldn't believe what he was about to say. It was everything Tom wouldn't want. To think that he was opening up far more than dialogue with Riddle again...that he would share his soul, share Lyra with him.

"Send me a piece of your diary again. I'll keep it safe this time."

"No," Riddle said softly. "I much prefer this option. It's far more intimate, don't you think?"

Harry swallowed tightly.

"You know the sorting hat is just going to tell Dumbledore everything?" Lyra said. "This way doesn't work."

"Actually," Riddle said. "I believe Godric Gryffindor ensured the hat could not divulge any secrets. Have you not ready Hogwarts, A History?"

"Like that would stop it," Lyra growled.

"Either way," Riddle said. "I can gain strength enough from here-"

Harry yanked the hat off his head, his resolve caving. Overwhelmed and barely making sense of it all. Words were one thing, but actually gambling with Lyra-

He hated it. For years he'd been in control, just him and Lyra together. Now the piece's of Voldemort's soul were demonstrating that they had absolute power over him.

Harry ignored Dumbledore, opened his mouth to say something to Lyra, he couldn't find the words. She stared back at him unblinking as she swiped her tail back and forth.

He'd imagined his first proper conversation with Lyra for years, always wondered what he'd say...and now it was flying past with a unsettling disappointment.

Lyra had first shown herself to Riddle, and now had only spoken when Riddle was present, despite sparing no expense at being hostile to Riddle.

And to think that the only way he could speak to her, truly speak to her would meant Riddle would leech off her. It just wasn't fair.

Dumbledore held out his hand to take the sorting hat back, but Harry only gripped it harder. He placed it back on his head again, barely stopping his fingers from shaking.

Riddle was still there, waiting.

"Sorry," Harry lied, he gripped the edge of the desk to stop himself from automatically yanking the hat from his head again. "I forgot how intense you could be."

It was the right choice of words, for he knew Riddle would only be grinning.

"Despite everything, you're still so terribly human, Harry," Riddle said. Harry craved to hear Lyra's voice again, but with Riddle listening-

"I have to go."

Fortunately, Riddle didn't seem put off.

"I would like to speak with you again, Harry," Riddle said.

"Fine," Harry said. "But I can't guarantee how often I can sneak into Dumbledore's office, Fawkes might show up any minute. I've already risked being here too long."

"I'm sure you can manage something," Riddle said. "And Harry-"

His voice was dangerously cold now.

"Make sure you bring Lyra with you. Tom won't cut you off if he knows she isn't with you."

Harry took a rattling breath, knowing he was pushing the boundaries.

"Surely you're more than enough? You can keep me stable."

"If that were true then I would have stopped your recent decay," Riddle said coolly. "You know our bond isn't substantial enough for that...not in its current form."

"Right," Harry muttered. "You heard about that then..."

Riddle would have no reservations of cutting Harry off, not when he had done it before. If Harry ever had to solely depend on him again then there was no way it could end well.

"I heard," Riddle said, and again his voice had an odd tone to it, although there was a clear hint of amusement. "Incidently, Tom did ask me if I could sustain you should it happen again."

Harry couldn't hide his surprise.

"Tom asked you that?"

"Of course," Riddle said. "But he knows that without my diary you will never be as connected to me as you once were. Not until you have given me Lyra completely."

Harry shivered. That would not be her fate.

"So then why not send me a piece of your diary?" Harry tried again. It was still the better option, one that he could maintain control over, only exchanging his soul when absolutely necessary.

There was definite amusement in Riddle's voice now.

"Nice try, Harry."

Without saying another word, Harry slipped the sorting hat from his head and placed it on the desk in front of him. An uneasy feeling stirring in his chest.

Dumbledore was lent back in his chair waiting patiently.

"Riddle wants me to speak with him again," Harry said as he picked up and pulled Lyra close to him. How much had Riddle managed to take from her...

It also didn't help that Harry had been so temperamental recently. Lyra had already suffered through the summer and had not yet recovered.

Dumbledore slotted his hands together, his wrinkled brow coming down in a frown.

"Then I can propose two options. The first being, I could remove the sorting hat from my office and have Professor Snape inform Lord Voldemort that you were caught breaking into my office."

Harry didn't respond. That certainly felt like the right option. But then he wouldn't ever get to hear Lyra again-

"What's the second?"

"The second is putting some further protections in place, but otherwise letting you open a dialogue with Riddle."

Harry snapped his head up.

"Why would you do that?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"I said before that neither you or Tom can pretend that you don't have a bond to Riddle. And some day Harry I know you will leave Hogwarts and rejoin with the pieces of Voldemort's soul. When the time comes, it would be helpful if Riddle would choose you and protect you from Voldemort."

Harry nearly burst out laughing at the fact. He gestured to his half rotten half.

"Riddle chose Voldemort, chose Nagini. He did this to me. He already made that decision. He would only ever see me rot."

"And yet Riddle still has not obtained Nagini," Dumbledore said mildly. "Do not forget that, Harry. Riddle will have altered his plans, will undoubtedly have decided to have you to himself instead, away from both Tom and Voldemort if possible. It may just keep you alive."

Harry looked away. That was frighteningly true. Yet, at the same time, Riddle had told him over two years ago that he'd found Nagini...maybe she hadn't survived when the killing curse had rebounded after all...

There was no way around it. Harry needed Riddle. Needed him to get close to Voldemort.

"Don't move the hat," Harry said. "I'll talk to him again, just not straight away."

Dumbledore sighed and he looked older somehow, his expression tired but he nodded.

Harry shifted on his seat.

"Sir, I-" he wetted his lips, struggling to find his voice. "I could hear Lyra...she spoke to me."

"Ah-" Dumbledore said.

"Is there a way so that I can speak with her all the time?"

Dumbledore frowned, he linked his fingers together and peered over his half moon glasses.

"It is a complicated bit of magic, Harry," he said. "I would be more than happy to proceed if I thought for a moment it would not replicate the exact same circumstances of the sorting hat."

"Oh-" Harry sat back, a rush of bitter disappoint flooding through him. "You mean you can't let me hear just Lyra...Tom and Riddle would be there too."

"Yes, they would be present."

"Right," Harry mumbled. "Maybe another time."

The thought of being able to communicate with Tom freely was tempting, but if Tom was going to keep shutting him out the whole time it wouldn't achieve anything, specially if all that left him with was Riddle trying to prey off Lyra.