Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table, deaf to the surrounding applause. The Weasley twins were on their feet, and Percy and his dæmon Bronwyn greeted him enthusiastically.

Harry's head however was spinning as he sat down, Tom beside him. Tom was angry, but there was little Harry could do as they waited for the rest of the sorting to finish. Ron too, went into Gryffindor, causing Sephronia to jump around happily with Bronwyn, Celendia and Demetria.

It wasn't until Professor Dumbledore announced the start of the feast and the food appeared did Harry turn to Tom.

"I don't know what happened," he started at once. "I hadn't-"

"You didn't even care," Tom shot back, at once attracting the attention of their fellow Gryffindor's.

"I didn't know the hat was going to try and place us in different houses-" Harry tried again.

"Like you gave me a fair chance," Tom stated frostily.

"Look, I'm sorry," Harry gestured his hands wildly.

"Let me guess," Ron interrupted awkwardly, nodding towards Tom awkwardly. "Slytherin?"

Harry nodded dully, as the others only gaped.

"You were sorted into different houses?" Hermione said. "Is that even possible?"

"I guess," Harry offered disheartened.

"Ouch, that's got to hurt," Percy Weasley contributed, as he tucked into his potatoes. "I've never heard of that you know. That's got to be difficult, particularly if-"

"Tom," Harry answered.

"If Tom is a Slytherin, that's totally opposite from Gryffindor."

"Tom's a Slytherin?" Now the Weasley twins had joined in the conversation as Harry groaned. He wished he'd just remained silent. He kept forgetting others could directly see his reactions with Tom.

Tom too, seemed unamused by this new topic of conversation, but he took it in his stride as he only smirked.

"Which technically means, your new lion fits into both houses, dæmons and humans are meant to be alike after all."

This seemed to disturb some of the older students. The first years though didn't look phased as Harry rolled his eyes.

"That's cool," the sandy haired boy said, still clutching onto his fox, before smiling broadly. "Seamus Finnigan" He shook Harry's hand and nodded towards Tom.

Thankfully, the rest of the feast seemed to pass relatively quickly as their new classmates chatted about their backgrounds. Harry however, was still feeling incredibly guilty. What didn't help however, was when the ghost from earlier joined them at their table. He seemed to seek out Harry and Tom as he sat down opposite them. Sir Nicolas got straight to the point, as he eyed Tom warily.

"You know who you are?"

"I am aware," Tom replied with a clearly a forced smile. He didn't to move an inch. "As is Harry," he added. Harry wished Tom hadn't said anything, it was probably because he was mad at Harry why he was doing so.

Not for the first time, ghostly eyes shifted across to Harry. The other surrounding first years were watching with complete confusion.

"Is that so?" Nick commented lightly.

Harry grit his teeth. "Yes, why does it matter?"

"I only ask that you be cautious," Nick said lightly.

Now it was Harry's turn to look annoyed. "I don't need your warnings."

"Perhaps," Nick conceded. "But Tom Riddle was the master of manipulation and charm, it is only natural that you have been taken in by him, particularly due to your close proximity."

Harry clenched his fists furiously, a retort already on his lips ready to defend Tom. However his dæmon was quicker, Tom's face still oddly impartial as his hand darted out to hold Harry still.

"It's okay Harry, Sir Nicolas is only worried about your well being." Even his tone was off. It was such a diplomatic answer that is totally threw Harry off guard. "Which under the circumstances is understandable," Tom continued.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, of course it wasn't understandable, who else knew Tom better than he did. However, he didn't get very far as another voice spoke out behind him.

"I didn't pick you for a Gryffindork, Potter."

Harry and Tom swiveled round to come face to face with the sour face of Draco Malfoy.

"I don't need grief from you as well," Harry grumbled, head falling into his hands.

Draco blinked, completely thrown by this response, as his ferret Adara jumped around his ankles. The surrounding Gryffindor's just looked sympathetically at him.

"Harry and Tom were sorted into different houses," Hermione spoke up loudly. "Tom's a Slytherin, but the hat picked Gryffindor."

Harry snapped his head up to glare at her, it was obvious he didn't want that information broadcast any more then it already was, partially not to the Slytherin's.

"It's probably because you're the wizard" Ron offered with a shrug. Tom eyed up Sephronia again at this comment, and she promptly hid behind Ron's leg.

Draco seemed to have recovered, because now instead of his shock, he looked back towards Tom, a smirk breaking out.

"Really? Well that changes things. In that case, you'll have to visit our common room from time to time."

"You can't do that," Hermione began at once. "It's against the rules."

"No one asked you," Draco cut in, Adara reared up so her fur was sticking up aggressively as Ramiron, Hermione's otter, retreated.

Harry was finding this totally confusing. He'd never had to track other people's dæmon's before, like Ron had said, they seemed to mirror their witch or wizards emotions. Hermione just glared back coldly and scooped Ramiron back up into her arms, before she stood up, with her nose in the air, and stormed away to sit further down the Gryffindor table.

"I would suggest you remain in the Gryffindor common room," Nick offered in Harry's direction.

Draco ignored him, but he seemed satisfied with how things had developed. After promising Draco and Adara that they would indeed visit the Slytherin common room, Draco left once more, much to Ron's relief and Sephronia's mutterings.

Harry sighed heavily, head spinning as he glanced back up to the teachers table. It happened so suddenly, that Harry wasn't entirely sure what had happened.

"Ouch," Harry clasped a hand to his head as it burned.

"What is it?" Percy asked, as Tom shot him a wary look.

"Nothing," Harry stated awkwardly, resisting the urge to rub his head. He glanced back up to the teacher's table anxiously, but it didn't happen again.

It was several hours later, when Harry was finally relieved to be heading out of the great hall. He'd been waiting for hours to speak to Tom privately, and he could hardly take it anymore.

Percy and Bronwyn lead them up to a warm common room, decorated in red and gold. Seamus, Neville and a boy named Dean Thomas, made their way up to the top of the tower, their dæmons leading the way excitedly.

Harry trudged up the staircase, eager to just sleep. Yawning, he climbed into the very large bed, pulling the drapes closed around them. He ignored the funny looks Seamus and Dean were giving him.

Tom was already sitting on their bed, head tilted.

"You're still mad at me," Harry stated.

"Mmm," Tom mumbled, his eyes cold, well aware that his fellow classmates were still moving around the dormitory.

Harry sighed heavily, rubbing his head which was aching slightly.

"I'm sorry-" Harry began again, but he was interrupted as Tom moved to grab his wrist tightly, pulling him forwards so that they were much closer.

He placed a cooling hand on Harry's forehead.

Harry tried to move back, but Tom held him still, his eyes flicking over Harry expertly.

"Aren't you mad still?" Harry tested.

"Of course I am," Tom replied quietly, still examining Harry closely. "Are you okay?"

Harry shifted, remembering how his scar had flared up painfully at the feast.

"I'm fine."

Tom gave him a disbelieving look, before twisting Harry round so he was lying on his back.

"Go to sleep," Tom instructed at once. "You'll feel better." Harry tried to sit up, but Tom held his firmly in place.

"I didn't choose-"

"Slytherin is against everything you ever wanted," Tom cut across quietly. "You never had any ambition, it's no wonder the sorting hat favoured you."

It was difficult now Harry was lying down, as he tried to blink back the sleep that was washing over him.

"That doesn't mean it's fair," Harry mumbled.

"No, it doesn't," Tom agreed quietly. Another thought struck Harry in his tired state.

"I don't understand, why were you acting so calm in front of Nearly Headless Nick? He had no right."

Harry had been angry, so it had been unusual for Tom to be the opposite. Tom paused shortly before offering his answer.

"He knows me, and more importantly knows what I become. His reaction is going to be common."

"So?" Harry pointed out, forcing back a yawn. "That doesn't explain why you just let him say the things he did. You're not Voldemort."

"I am Voldemort, their enemy," Tom replied without blinking. "And you are their hero Harry. According to the wizarding society we do not belong together."

"I don't care what anyone else thinks" Harry stated.

"I know," Tom whispered as he settled down beside him.

Harry rolled over to stare at him, he hated this. Tom was different from Voldemort. The dormitory light flicked off as Harry heard the others settle down.

Harry swallowed, staring as Tom through the darkness.

"We're okay aren't we?" Harry whispered.

Tom just smiled tiredly, as his eyes also started to shift closed.

"We're always okay, Harry. But you owe me."

Whispers followed Harry and Tom the moment they left the Gryffindor common room next morning.

Tom thankfully seemed to adapt naturally to it, head held high as he walked confidently from class to class. Harry hated it, ducking his head, as he tried to ignore the stares that followed them.

On top of the students and their dæmons trying to constantly get a look at them both, Harry and Tom had to struggle with the numerous staircases and passageways around the castle. Hogwarts was huge, and Harry had a funny feeling it was going to take seven years just to learn every secret it had to offer.

Ron and Sephronia had joined them for most of their explorations around the castle, and they had so far succeeded in getting lost of multiple occasions. Peeves, the schools poltergeist, had more then once pointed them in the wrong direction.

Even worse then Peeves, was the caretaker Argus Filch. Everyone knew Filch hated the students with a fierce passion. He had a cat called Mrs Norris. Ron explained that Filch used her as a dæmon substitute.

"Why would he do that?" Harry asked, after Filch has chased them away from the forbidden corridor they had accidentally been trying to open.

Tom rolled his eyes at him. "Haven't you noticed, Mrs Norris is solid, that means he doesn't have one."

This seemed to be a growing trend.

"So he lost dæmon, like Professor Quirrell?"

"Nah," Ron answered. "He's a squib, never had one to begin with."

Harry had never come across the term squib before, he made a note to ask Tom later, he'd probably read about the term somewhere.

"And Mrs Norris can see dæmons?"

"Yeah," Sephronia confirmed, "I'd love to scare her off," she bared her dog like teeth and growled.

"And...squibs," Harry tested the word. "Can't see dæmons?"

"That's right," Ron nodded. "Fred reckons that's the reasons Filch hates the students so much. I mean, imagine living in a castle where you can't even see or hear half the population."

Considering Harry had always had the complete opposite problem growing up, he could easily imagine Filch feeling like an outsider from everyone else.

Harry and Tom's first few lessons started pretty well. Harry was beginning to relax about the situation, when it was clear that most of the class were fairly new to magic too, even though they had grown up with wizarding families.

It wasn't until Professor McGonagall's class did Harry and Tom have any problems. She started the lesson promptly, and it was immediately apparent, she was not someone to cross.

Straight after McGonagall's initial introduction, Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Professor, you're registered as an animagis aren't you?" she pressed eagerly.

Harry perked up at this, he really wanted to see how this worked. To answer her question, Professor McGonagall only smile thinly, before she disappeared in an instant.

Harry blinked, thrown by this change, before Tom nudged him and pointed towards Einaris. McGonagall's dæmon was no longer transparent, instead he was completely solid, and looked exactly like a normal cat.

He jumped off the table, before instantly splitting back into Professor McGonagall.

"In my animagis form, Einaris is no longer conscious," she explained,, as Hermione scribbled to take notes. "You may find that in my dæmon's form, I can now interact with other humans. It does not cause me, or Einaris pain."

Einaris looked slightly disorientated as he shook his head briefly to gain his new bearings.

"Can anyone learn to do that Professor?" Seamus asked eagerly, as his fox jumped around excitedly.

"It is an extremely dangerous process, one that is heavily monitored by the ministry of magic," she explained sternly. "Any witch or wizard attempting to do so, risks losing their dæmon indefinitely."

This seemed to kill any enthusiasm as Seamus' fox stilled, looking very frightened as she didn't dare move. Other dæmons looked just as subdued, as if suddenly afraid their humans would accidentally lose them.

McGonagall then gave everyone the task of turning a match into a needle. Einaris sat at the head of the classroom on her desk eyeing them all carefully, as McGonagall walked between the students, correcting them on their wand movements and pronunciations.

Harry unfortunately wasn't having much luck, Ron too was starting to jab his wand frustratingly in the matches direction, as Sephronia started growling at it.

Harry slumped back in his chair after half an hour, disheartened by his non-existent progress.

"Let me?" Tom asked, offering out his hand.

Harry handed over his wand, magic was turning out to be a lot more difficult then he had anticipated. Tom leveled the wand carefully, before speaking the incantation. The matchstick turned into the perfect needle in an instant.

Harry's mouth dropped in amazement, as he picked up the needle.

"How did you do that?" he began excitedly, but it was at that point that Professor McGonagall appeared.

Her eyes locked onto Tom holding Harry's wand and then the needle in Harry's hand. Harry had never seen someone's lips go that white before. She seemed to take a moment to recover.

"Dæmons are not allowed to use wands, it's a school rule," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Ron kicked him under the table, most likely to stop him losing any more house points. Tom's expression was unreadable, and he didn't say a word as he passed the wand back to Harry.

"She just made that up," Harry grumbled furiously as they trudged out the class. "I mean, that rule makes no sense. Normal dæmons are animals, so of course they can't use a wand."

Tom didn't respond to him, his expression still frighteningly guarded.

"You can still practice in the common room," Ron offered with a shrug, Sephronia brushed against Tom's leg to try and comfort him, but thought better of it as Tom glared down at her.

"Fred, George, Celendia and Demetria always lose tons of points for Gryffindor," Sephronia offered instead to Harry.

"It's not about house points," Harry argued stubbornly.

The rest of the week didn't fair much better. Harry had really been looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts, but by the time they got to class he was feeling a little worse for wear.

"Can we skip this one?" Harry asked, rubbing his head as it began to sting.

Tom was by his side instantly, his hand gently pulling Harry's away from his dark locks.

"What's wrong?" Tom pressed anxiously, examining Harry thoroughly with a sweep of his eyes. His other hand moving to lie coolly on Harry's forehead.

Harry shook his head, his eyes averted. "I don't know," he hated being ill.

Tom's expression darkened a shade. "Harry?" He pressed.

Harry relented. "It hurts, my scar."

"I think something is wrong," Tom murmured. "You've never felt pain in your scar before-" He stopped.

"Maybe it's because Quirrell lost his dæmon?" Harry frowned, not really wanting to enter the classroom. "I mean if you're excess and he doesn't have one?"

"I don't think so," Tom replied, "All the other dæmons avoid him."

"They do?"

Harry hadn't noticed.

Tom nodded, but he averted his eyes, as if he was deliberately remaining quiet. Thankfully the lesson was uneventful, in fact Quirrell spent most of the lesson being scared of his own shadow.

When Friday finally arrived, Harry was more the relieved, the weekend couldn't come sooner. Hagrid had invited Harry down for tea (Tom hadn't been mentioned in the letter), but even so, they still had a morning of potions to get through.

Harry was already apprehensive, and the start of the lesson soon proved that it wasn't going to get any better. As soon as Snape had taken the register, his bat dæmon hadn't moved at all as she hung from the ceiling, he locked black eyes onto Harry.

"Potter, what would you get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape snapped.

Harry hid his surprised expression, it was clear that Snape loathed him from the cold look he was giving Harry.

He had only read some of his textbooks but he hadn't expected to be bombarded like this on his very first lesson, fortunately he had help from someone who had thoroughly read the text books already.

Harry flicked his eyes towards Tom only briefly who was sitting beside him, he rolled his eyes.

"Draught of the living dead," he answered.

Harry tried to suppress his own grin as Snape looked absolutely livid.

"This is a potions class," Snape started at once, completely ignoring Tom. "I believe I asked you a question Potter, not you dæmon."

Harry couldn't stop himself from answering back as he replied defensively.

"His name is Tom."

There was an intake of breath from the class, Neville's dæmon transformed into lizard, and took refuge in his owners top pocket.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape hissed, his bat didn't move, remaining perfectly still as she hung from the ceiling.

The Gryffindor's at once broke out into groans. Draco looked absolutely delighted, Adara perking up on his shoulder.

"What?" Harry countered at once, not thinking about the repercussions, and still annoyed about how McGonagall had reacted. "Why shouldn't Tom be allowed to answer?"

Snape fixed Harry with a very cold glare.

"Do you see any other dæmons contributing to this lesson?" Snape asked, hand gesturing to their surroundings. The class seemed to shift at this, shrinking back encase Snape decided to single any of them out as an example.

"No Sir-" Harry started but Snape cut across him before he had time to argue.

"And is this not a school for witches and wizards?" Snape asked mockingly.

"Yes Sir, but-" Harry tried again.

"Then please tell me how you plan to pass any of your exams when you don't plan on learning any of the material?"

Harry's fists clenched, this just wasn't fair. Tom was more than a dæmon, they all could see that.

A warm hand enclosed softly on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Harry," Tom stated quietly.

Harry wanted to argue, to make sure that Tom should not be ignored. Surely the staff knew who he was, they shouldn't treat him like nothing.

However Tom wasn't finished yet as he spoke softly.

"My apologies professor, I am merely adjusting to the customs which are expected of me as a simple dæmon," Tom's voice was laced with over the top sincerity.

Snape clearly didn't miss the jab as his eyes narrowed. Harry swallowed thickly.

"Potter control your dæmon," Snape snapped.

Tom only squeezed Harry's shoulder, warning him to not react, as the class waited with breaths held.

"Yes, sir," Harry bit out. He was already wishing he'd learnt some of those nasty curses he'd read about.

Snape set them up into pairs to brew a simple potion to cure boils. Ron and Sephronia had paired up with Harry and Tom. Tom was lingering by Harry's shoulder as Harry stared at the potion, he wasn't sure if he was doing anything right.

"I can always give you some pointers," Tom stated offhandedly.

Harry couldn't help but agree as he nodded his head gently. Tom was naturally good at this sort of thing, and other people's dæmon's were currently suggesting other ideas to each other.

"I don't think Snape likes me much," Harry whispered, wrinkling his nose as he gazed over at Tom.

"Snape doesn't like anyone," Ron offered quietly as he stirred the potion three times clockwise.

"He seems to particularly hate me," Harry whispered back. Tom only flicked his gaze to Harry, nodding in silent agreement.

Harry was thankful to finally get out of potions after several long hours, but he was still feeling annoyed.

"It's as if the teachers don't want you to learn any magic," Harry argued loudly, once they were alone. Tom halted, turning back to him, as they paused in an empty corridor.

"Which is to be expected," he said gently, although his voice was cold. "It is clear they know my identity. They are scared."

"Good," Harry couldn't help but bite out, still annoyed. It just wasn't fair.

Tom smiled at this, looking fondly at him.

"They are right to be cautious of me," Tom added gently.

This only annoyed Harry more, as he shot a look back at Tom. Sure, Dudley had had a few trips to the hospital, but that didn't mean Tom was going to kill anyone. Harry was sure of that.

"I mastered the transfiguration in an instant," Tom continued, although Harry could tell the makings of a grin were at the corner of his mouth. "Obviously, Lord Voldemort's skill is still a part of me somehow."

Still feeling angry and resentful towards the teachers Harry made his decision.

"I think we should go and find the library," he suggested. "Test how much you can actually do. Then we can give them a real reason to be scared."

Tom caught on in an instant, a smirk crossing his face, as his eyes shined.

Dumbledore gazed over his half moon spectacles. His office was currently full of a number of his professor's, more specifically, the ones who had been teaching the first years over the past week.

"It is concerning," Minerva was saying to her colleagues. "Potter behaves normally, although rather quiet, he is fine to teach in class. He's like any other first year."

Einaris continued, his cat eyes sharp. "Riddle, however, is already capable of basic magic, he completed the transfiguration in an instant."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, as Fawkes perched above his chair.

"Unfortunately, this is to be expected. Lord Voldemort-" A shudder ran around the room. "Is a master of magic. I hardly think his ability to cast spells is going to be affected by his current state."

"It is really him then?" Minerva pushed anxiously.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort is very much alive, in one way or another. Voldemort has indeed been reduced to Harry's dæmon."

There was a long awkward pause, as if no one really wanted to admit what had been happening for the past week.

"Does Potter even have a real dæmon?" Poppy asked tentatively.

"I would think so," Dumbledore mused. "If anything Tom is only blocking it, even if it isn't intentional."

"Potter has to know the truth," Minerva whispered.

"How can he?" Poppy countered aghast. "You Know Who killed his parents. How do you think the poor boy will feel when he finds out who Tom is?"

"Oh, the boy is already aware of that," Severus stated coolly. Laraine, his bat dæmon was settled on his shoulder, eyes closed and ears pointed up, listening carefully.

"What-?" Minerva began stunned. "How can he know?"

"I have already had this theory confirmed by Sir Nicolas," Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I am unsure how, but Harry is aware of who Tom really is, which of course leads to the next question. Does Lord Voldemort remember anything before he was reduced to a dæmon?"

There was silence, and it was horrible as no one even dared breath. Quirrell actually shuddered, his eyes wide and alarmed as Poppy's hedgehog curled tight into a ball.

Dumbledore seemed to take pity on them all, as he answered with a heavy sigh.

"Fortunately I think this is not the case. If Voldemort had any memory, I believe he would have reached out to the wizarding world sooner and reacquainted himself with his followers."

This offered no comfort, as a number of dæmons shifted. There was a brief silence before Severus spoke coolly.

"There is also the fact that the boy has accepted his dæmon to be the Dark Lord, It is alarming and also means Potter may be susceptible to the dark arts."

"It is something we may have to be constantly aware of. However, I think it is nothing short of encouraging that Harry was placed in Gryffindor and not Lord Voldemort's old house," Dumbledore said softly. "The most logical option now though, would be to remove Tom Riddle, before he has a chance to develop into anything more dangerous."

"No," a voice hissed furiously.

Everyone turned to see Severus' dæmon, Laraine with her wings spread fully, teeth bared. She looked ready to take flight.

"You cannot remove a dæmon," she batted her wings aggressively, as Severus remained tight lipped.

"I agree," Einaris nodded his cat head towards Laraine. "A wizard cannot live without a dæmon, it's inhuman, regardless of who the dæmon is."

Other dæmon's nodded their agreement, while their professor's looked uncertain.

Dumbledore glanced towards Fawkes. "What are your feeling towards this suggestion?"

Fawkes' eyes pierced Dumbledore's own blue. "Regardless of the different circumstances in which Tom Riddle has grown, Lord Voldemort cannot live. Combined with the a strong possibility Harry has a suppressed dæmon, I believe your suggestion is the best course of action."

"I would like to remind you of what you are suggesting," Minerva interrupted, her own face pale. "To remove a dæmon, requires a dementor. You cannot subject Potter to the dementors kiss, that is-" her voice trailed off, there was no need to go on, the suggestion was too horrific.

"There are other ways of removing a dæmon then using a dementor," Dumbledore offered gently. "I would not dream of hurting Harry. Using a dementor would also risk destroying Harry's true dæmon."

However, this seemed to do little to settle his colleagues.

"Removing his dæmon would still be hurting him," Laraine hissed. Severus flicked his eyes towards her, before raising a hand to brush her gently on the head.

"Be calm," he stated coolly, and then he flicked his black eyes over to Quirrell, who looked out of place with his lack of shimmering animal beside him.

"I feel like we should seek the opinion of the one wizard here, who fully understands these implications. Quirinus, what do you think we should do with the boy?"

Quirrell squeaked, as if afraid of the question. He took a moment to compose himself.

"W...we...can...cannot...t...take...the...b...boys dæmon. P...Potter would n...never be t...the same...a...again"

"Exactly," Einaris agreed, as if this solved the argument.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, as he seemed to weigh up the situation with care. The other teachers who were still looking disturbed, their dæmons staying close, unnerved by what was being discussed.

Dumbledore however, seemed to have made up his mind.

"Tom Riddle cannot remain attached to Harry, under any circumstance."

He stood up slowly, Fawkes taking flight high into the room. "I must go and speak to the Minister for Magic at once."

Chapter five updated August 2017