Quirrell had convinced Harry that he wouldn't be able to locate the mirror immeadiately. So for the rest of the Christmas holidays Harry tried his best to remember every detail about Lyra. He'd tried drawing her so he could show Tom but he hadn't done a very good job.

Hermione, who came back to school the day before term started was exasperated when Ron and Harry still weren't on proper speaking terms.

"Do you have to be so stubborn?" she demanded at dinner.

When no one offered her a reply she scowled before she noticed the mark on Tom's hand. She looked at it with a frown before Ramiron's eyes deliberately drifted to Sephronia.

"And you've been fighting!"

"We haven't," Ron grumbled.

Harry had been so distracted with the mirror and Lyra he'd forgotten that Sephronia had attacked Tom.

"Just don't bite so hard next time," Tom said coldly.

Ron however only bopped Sephronia proudly on the head.

"Serves him right anyway," Harry said.

"Harry-" Hermione started as Ron beamed at Harry.

Tom however looked distinctly unimpressed. Hermione chewed her lip before she finally scooped up Ramiron.

"You look better, by the way," she added, glancing suspiciously at Tom. "Are you sure you're coping okay? I did a lot of reading in the holidays and well everything says you should be deteriorating rapidly without your dæmon. I mean, I know you have Tom, but still-"

Harry only shrugged and helped himself to more potato's. It was true though, Harry certainly felt better. Initially after the mirror had vanished Harry had been nothing but distraught. But now, even his nightmares of the guillotine had grown fainter. It was almost like seeing Lyra had grounded him somehow.

And with classes starting again, Harry had plenty of other things to keep himself busy. Now they had covered the basics, lessons had stepped up considerably and they were diving into the more complicated techniques of magic.

The Quidditch season was also well underway, although Gryffindor's luck didn't seem to improve. Hufflepuff stormed to victory which all but assured Slytherin would take the house and quidditch cup for the year. Although, worse than Gryffindor's defeat were the potions classes which followed. Snape of course took great pride in gloating about Slytherin's lead and continued to take every opportunity to deduct house points from Gyffindor.

Today, wasn't any better. Harry was meant to be concentrating on brewing his awakening potion but it had already gone a funny gloppy texture.

"I said stir it counter clockwise," Tom said.

Harry immediately went to correct it but the damage had already been done. The liquid turned a distinct orange mess instead of the red it had been moments before. Tom sighed and pushed some dried leaves towards him.

"It should salvage some of it."

Beside them, Neville wasn't having much luck. Cyrilla, who was currently a rabbit, had backed as far away from Neville's potion as possible. Harry suddenly remembered that he still had to ask Neville about his own dæmon. Glancing around, he made sure Snape and Laraine weren't looking as he edged up to Neville.

"How did you lose Cyrilla?"

Tom who was about to drag Harry back to his own work suddenly became completely engaged.

Neville jumped, and the newt eye he'd been tentatively trying to cut slipped onto the floor.

"I never said I lost her-" Neville started, but his eyes distinctly didn't meet Harry's own. Instead his gaze slipped to Cyrilla.

Cyrilla didn't seem to notice, instead she continued to eye Neville's potion which had now turned black.

"But she left, didn't she?" Harry asked.

Neville bit his lip.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I found her again."

Harry's stomach twisted.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Neville shuffled on his feet while Cyrilla showed no signs of distress. Instead she looked almost disinterested from the conversation as she batted one of her large rabbit feet against her floppy ear.

"Dæmons that don't want to be found, typically stay hidden, Harry."

"But it's horrible," Harry said. Would he feel like this forever, incomplete and hollow. "Why would she stay away?"

"You have to remember your dæmon is suffering the same as you," Neville answered.

Cyrilla nose twitched once and in one small hop she turned her back to Neville. Never before had Harry seen someone look so hurt. Neville expression broke as his voice fell to a whisper.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry. And when your dæmon does return she won't be the same."

Neville could have said anything and it would have been better then that. Harry automatically grabbed for Tom as his knees threatened to give way.

Tom shifted closer in response as he squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"I don't want her to change," Harry said.

Neville almost knocked over his potion ingredients again as Harry realised his mistake. Neville glanced towards Snape who was still preoccupied with the Slytherin's.

"Y-you've seen her?"

When Harry shook his head, Neville's face only broke out into a grin as he failed to notice Harry's distress. This also seemed to gain the attention of Cyrilla who jumped around as if nothing has happened.

"What animal is she?" she squeaked. "A bird?" she suddenly switched to a small owl, before instantly changing into a lizard. "No, wait. She can't fly. How about a tiger?" In an instant she was a tiger. "Or a squirrel?" In a blink of an eye a small red squirrel sat on the table.

"I-"

"Does it matter what she is?" Tom snapped.

Cyrilla immediately flicked into a small dormouse and scurried up Neville's arm. Neville who had been so shaken looked a lot happier now his dæmon was close.

Harry's thought however, were racing as Neville's words echoed in his head. Lyra would be like Cyrilla. Constantly flicking between animal forms. The thought alone turned Harry's stomach. She was meant to be like him, be his, unchanging. She was already perfect, he didn't want her to be any different.

"What animal was Cyrilla before she left?" Harry asked.

Neville's smile faltered.

"I don't know, she won't tell me-"

"Surely you know?" Tom asked.

Neville shrugged, eyes flicking down.

"She left before I could see her. Same as Harry, I guess. Although, I don't know how you found out what animal your dæmon is."

And then Harry realised the full implications of what Neville had been through. At least Harry had Tom, but Neville would have been truly alone. Harry didn't want to know. Instead he pulled himself steady, gripping Tom even tighter by the hand.

"How long was Cyrilla gone for?"

This time Neville face went distinctly blank.

"Tell him."

Harry jumped at Tom's sudden sharpness. Neville shook his head, eyes almost pleading with Tom to let him hold his silence.

"He needs to know," Tom said.

Neville dipped his head down and Cyrilla did not pop out of his pocket again.

"A few years."

Harry stared. He must have misheard. There was no possible way that was true.

"You're lying."

"Harry, I'm sorry-"

"It can't be years," Harry snapped, jerking away from Tom to grab Neville by the shoulders. "It can't, dæmon's aren't meant to be separated. It's not normal."

He felt sick, trapped. Was there really no way out from this hell.

"Potter!" Harry jumped away from Neville as his hands fell to his side. Neville didn't move, his eyes full of pity, as Snape stormed up to their potions.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I-Nothing, sir."

"Ten points from Gryffindor and get back to your own potion," Snape said.

Harry turned sullenly back to his own potion which was now a horrible brown sludge.

Harry trailed out of dungeons with an aching hollowness. Tom had told Ron and Hermione to go ahead, so it was no surprise when Tom dragged Harry away from the grand staircase and down the front steps of the castle.

The dungeons were always cold, so it was refreshing to be outside and away from the stale air. Particularly after how claustrophobic it had started to feel. Harry let himself be led numbly until they were out of earshot and obscured behind a rose bush.

"You knew Lyra wasn't coming back anytime soon?" Harry asked while Tom pressed his hand against his brow.

"I didn't," Tom said straight away. His eyes flicked up as his brow creased. "But it was obvious Neville was hiding something. Cyrilla acts oddly around you."

Harry hadn't noticed.

"Daemons interact with each other. Like Ramiron for example, he'll look to Sephronia and vice versa. Cyrilla does too, except with you," Tom said.

"Cyrilla interacts with you too," Harry corrected him.

Tom smiled.

"She does when she thinks you're looking, and certainly before Lyra left this was true. But now her gaze is almost entirely focused on you. I thought it was normal at first but none of the other dæmons do it. They are still centered on me."

"Oh-"

"But that's not the point," Tom waved his hand "I need you to do something."

Harry didn't even hesitate.

"No."

Tom frowned.

"I haven't even told you what it is yet."

"That's because it's not you asking. It's Voldemort."

It had happened two or three times now and Harry hated it every time. Voldemort and Tom had been communicating by using parseltongue. It didn't matter that the whole defence class was present, Quirrell could place some sort of privacy wards up which meant no one but Harry could hear the chilling noises. It also didn't help that Tom never told Harry what they were discussing.

Tom shrugged, eyes never leaving Harry's own.

"Same thing."

Harry crossed his arms.

"It's not. What does he want, anyway? Can't Voldemort do it himself?"

Tom paused while he surveyed Harry with a look he couldn't quite place.

"I-" Tom emphasised. "I want you to write a letter."

Whatever retort Harry had ready fell short, that wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"To who?"

Tom didn't smile as he lent back against the castle wall.

"Dumbledore."

Harry blinked. Dumbledore was the last person he wanted to contact. When he remained tight lipped, Tom only sighed.

"It's about your guardianship during the summer," Tom said. "I want you to ask Dumbledore if you can stay with friends."

Harry swallowed.

"Dumbledore won't agree to that."

"No one has been assigned to look after you while you're not at school and if you don't act now, chances are the Ministry will leave you in Dumbledore's care."

Although the prospect of Dumbledore was frightening, Harry wouldn't help but feel like this would still be an okay option. Tom and Harry have the whole castle to himself without the hundreds of peering eyes staring at them both.

"Why does Voldemort care who looks after us anyway?"

"This has nothing to do with Voldemort," Tom replied.

"Don't lie to me," Harry snapped.

He almost wanted Tom to deny it, to embrace him and tell him he was just being silly. Instead, Harry was left sour mouthed and heart twisting as Tom shrugged.

"Fine. Some degree of flexibility is needed and if we're under Dumbledore's nose, then it's just going to cause complications."

Harry wanted to be mad, he wanted to turn away and ignore Tom completely, but he just couldn't. Neville's words were still ringing in his head. Lyra might take years to come back and he didn't want to push Tom away. He'd already done enough damage.

"Won't Quirrell be here anyway?"

Tom shook his head.

"Voldemort isn't planning on staying at the school any longer then he needs to."

If anything, this was a bigger reason to stay at Hogwarts.

"Please, Harry. I'll owe you."

Harry froze. Tom and Harry were even with favours and Harry was always left owing Tom. It was very rare that Harry was one up on Tom which meant that this was something Tom desperately wanted to do.

"Fine," Harry relented. To be fair, it wasn't a bad thing. He would be able to stay with Ron or Hermione. Even staying with Draco would be better than the Dursley's.

The owlery was swarmed with birds and Harry wrinkled his nose at the stench which greeted them. Hedwig spotted them at once and swooped down gracefully to land on the large pedestal which sat in the middle of the tower. She hooted happily as Harry pulled a bag of owl treats, a quill and parchment from his school bag.

"What do you want me to put?" Harry said.

"Let me," Tom offered.

Harry handed his quill over as Tom who began to write. Hedwig took his as her cue to nip Harry's hand affectionately as he passed her a treat.

It didn't take Tom long to scrawl down some words.

"Do you want to read it?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"I'll take your word for it."

Hedwig waited patiently as Tom attached the letter to her leg. As soon as it was secure she hooted happily, before taking off out the owlery window.

"Come on," Tom moved forwards suddenly to take Harry's hand in his own.

Harry felt a rush of warmth at the contact but there was something which made him grab Tom's shirt with his other hand, halting him from moving.

"Tom-" Harry said. "What's wrong?"

Tom tilted his head as Harry felt a pulse of shared anxiety.

"Nothings wrong."

It was a lie. But it was Tom's rushing heartbeat and the fear which stayed Harry's anger.

"Tom," Harry prompted before a sudden horror consumed him. "What did you write?"

Tom turned back to look out the Owlery window. There was something off that Harry couldn't quite place but it was gone in a moment.

Tom turned to Harry as his own brow creased.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Tom asked. Tom placed a chilling hand on Harry's forehead. "You're not feeling ill or anything?"

Harry let go of Tom slowly as he took a tentative step back. He had been so confident but now the doubt was creeping in.

"Yeah," Harry said, voice barely a whisper. "I think so."

Tom pulled him back again.

"Are you sure? What did you feel?"

Harry dipped his head.

"Nothing, I guess I'm still shook up from earlier."

Tom smiled sadly.

"I guess you are."

For the next few weeks everything was normal enough. Tom hadn't been speaking to Voldemort as much and even the ministry had been strangely quiet. Harry had also regained most of his strength and Madam Pomfrey hadn't been shoving nearly as many potions down his throat.

Of course, Harry should have known the calm was too good to last and sure enough it was the last defence class before the Easter holidays when everything went horribly wrong. Harry had just been starting to get excited that he could avoid Quirrell and not have his scar burning for a whole week when Quirrell stepped up to his desk and his scar twinged.

"P-Potter, your h-homework?"

"Umm, I have it here somewhere, Sir."

Harry rummaged through his bag, confused why it hadn't been retrieved with the rest of the class.

"Don't lie, Harry," Tom scolded.

Harry spun around fat to stare at Tom. He'd done it last night, all two feet of parchment worth. Tom had written at least half of it himself.

"D-detention, P-Potter. M-my office eight o'clock."

Harry couldn't believe it. He shoved his books into his bag, glaring at Tom and his all to innocent smile.

"You should have said," Hermione frowned. "I could have helped."

"Thanks Hermione," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Harry didn't bother asking where his homework had gone, instead he stormed out the classroom. If Tom wanted to speak to Voldemort outside of class, he could have just asked.

Eight o'clock came around far too quickly and Harry found himself trudging up to Quirrell's office. Tom has assured him he had no idea what it was about but Harry didn't believe him.

Quirrell was already waiting for them and he wasted no time as he tapped his wand on the desk.

"Sit," Quirrell said.

Harry glared at Quirrell as he scrapped the chair across the stone floor. Quirrell only waved his wand as he summoned a piece of parchment and a quill.

"You will complete your assignment as per instructed in class."

"You're actually making me do detention?" Harry said.

"It is too early and I have no desire to entertain a child," Quirrell said. He tapped his wand again on Harry's desk. "Now write, otherwise I am quite content at removing fifty points from Gryffindor."

Harry snatched up the quill as he tried to ignore the painful stab in his forehead.

"Early for what?" Harry said.

Quirrell didn't see the need to offer him with an answer as he strode behind his own desk. Harry looked to Tom, but Tom only shrugged as he took a seat next to Harry. Frustrated, Harry turned back to the parchment. He wanted nothing more then to knock the ink onto the floor but 50 points from Gryffindor was a sickening thought. Gryffindor were all ready trailing behind and Harry didn't think he could face Draco's smug face if he found out Harry had lost even more.

It took Harry a couple of hours to finish his essay which didn't help when Tom remained tight lipped the entire time. Harry ignored Tom as he moved up to Quirrell's desk to present his work.

"Done. Now are you going to tell me why we're here?"

Harry rubbed his scar as he waited, but Quirrell just ignored him.

"Take Potter's wand," Quirrell said.

Tom dipped his hand into Harry's pocket.

"But if the Ministry know Tom has been using my wand-" Harry started.

"That is not a concern, now put that cloak on," Quirrell instructed.

He gestured to a long black outdoor cloak which hung in the corner. When Harry didn't move, Tom collected it with a single flick of their wand. Harry was beginning to like this less and less.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked.

Quirrell swung his own long robe around his shoulders.

"The forbidden forest."

Tom swung the cloak around Harry's neck and drew the hood up so his head was covered. Tom lent in so their foreheads pressed together which made Harry's scar feel numb.

"Trust me," Tom whispered.

Bile rose in Harry's throat as he gripped Tom's wrist. He didn't want to deal with this now. He just wanted to get as far away from Voldemort as possible.

"Fine," Harry bit out. The sooner they got this over with the better. At least Voldemort wasn't hissing from underneath Quirrell's turban.

Tom pulled back and slotted his own hand tightly into Harry's. Quirrell turned his wand on himself. It was odd. Whatever charm he used seemed to trickle from his wand, distorting Harry's view as Quirrell disappeared.

"Doesn't Tom need hiding?" Harry asked.

Tom however shook his head.

"The important thing is that we're not associated with Quirrell. If you're seen wandering the corridor alone then we can't implicate him."

"Stay close," an invisible Quirrell said as he opened his office door.

"I'll guide you," Tom said. He pulled Harry forwards with a gentle tug.

The castle was eerily quiet. Harry could hear his every footstep echo throughout the castle as they made it out onto the grounds and up to the edge of the forest.

Quirrell dropped his illusion the moment they stepped into the trees. Harry couldn't help but feel dejected as Tom dropped his own hand from his grip.

Quirrell set off and Harry was stunned for a moment. Quirrell didn't even look like his feet were touching the ground, instead he sort of glided as his robes trailed along the ground. It was unnatural, but Tom followed with little hesitation. Harry walked behind as he tried ignore his scar.

As they pressed deeper the trees grew thicker and towered overhead. What stars they had seen previously had long disappeared above the canopy. Every now and then Quirrell would stop and mutter an incantation under his breath which did little to settle Harry's growing unease.

Harry was starting to see his breath swirl around in front of him and he drew the cloak tighter around his shoulders. It didn't seem to be that effective as the cold only persisted. Tom didn't seem as bothered as he hung close to Quirrell. Tom always seemed to thrive when he was close to Voldemort and Harry couldn't help but ache for Lyra.

It was horrible, knowing that Tom's connection to Voldemort must be so similar to Harry and Lyra. Tom and Voldemort were meant to be together, and Harry must have felt so empty comparison. Harry trailed behind the two of them, as he swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat.

Would Harry ever be enough for Tom. If Lyra took years to return then Harry would remain broken, incomplete. Tom might not even want to stay.

"Be still," Quirrell instructed suddenly. His wand cut across their path.

Tom shot Harry a small encouraging smile. Harry could hear the slight patter of something. And it was coming in their direction.

The dim light from Quirrell's wand dissipated into nothing as they were plunged into darkness.

The patter was becoming louder, more rhythmic now. It sounded like a horse galloping fast towards them. The trees were so tightly packed together, Harry couldn't understand how something was travelling this fast towards them.

Suddenly, something pure white flashed through the foliage. And with it a light seemed to radiate from the creature, outlining its shape in the dark. It was definitely some sort of horse but Harry didn't have time to contemplate why something so majestic was in the forbidden forest of all places.

Quirrell wand cut down with deadly accuracy. Ropes burst out, spinning through the air to twist around the creature.

Harry barely had time to draw breath as the creature collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. It took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust to what he was actually seeing.

"A unicorn," Tom whispered as he lowered his own wand in amazement.

Sure enough a unicorn was thrashing around in its bonds distressed. It kicked up dirt as its white mane matted into the ground. Quirrell's curse clearly wasn't normal as the bonds sunk deep into the unicorn's flesh as it restricted all movement.

And then Quirrell was kneeling down, a knife suddenly in his hand.

Harry reacted on instinct as he darted forwards. Tom moved so fast as he grabbed Harry around his waist. Harry opened his mouth to protest but it didn't matter. The knife plunged in. The unicorn was screaming, writhing underneaths Quirrell as he dug the weapon in deep. To destroy something so pure was just barbaric and utterly incomprehensible. Harry was left staring, aware of nothing else but this unicorn's plight.

Quirrell was ruthless as he jerked the knife out causing silver blood to spray across his robes. The darkness of the forest was consuming as it devoured what little light remained from the creature.

"Do something," Harry whispered. But Tom didn't move. He only watched on silently with no expression and Harry knew the distress flooding through him was his own.

They didn't have to wait long, as finally, the torment was over. The unicorn fell still.

Harry didn't even notice the tears falling down his face. There was nothing he could do as Tom's grip remained iron clad. Not that it would have mattered, the shock alone kept Harry frozen.

But the horror wasn't over yet.

Quirrell leaned over and pulled the flesh apart with his fingers so the blood seeped out. Harry couldn't look away. He was captivated by the horrendous scene. Silver blood splatted over Quirrell's robes as he pressed his mouth close.

The effect was instantaneous. Harry staggered as his soul burned.

It was wrong. Never before had Harry felt so tainted. So brutally terrified. Every single one of Quirrell's gulps pulsed through Tom, straight into Harry's own soul. Bile rose in Harry's throat, but Tom was fast, hand enclosing over Harry's mouth as he screamed.

It was like his very soul was being distorted, twisting as energy flooded through him. But at the same time it was draining, like Harry's body would turn to dust and disintegrate in a instant.

If anything, Tom was more affected. Harry could feel Tom's breath on the back of his neck, quick and short as Tom's grip started to loosen. It felt like an age but Quirrell finally pulled away. His teeth were stained as blood dripped from his mouth.

And then the reason why Quirrell had asked Harry and Tom to come with him into the forest became so horrifically apparent. Quirrell waved his wand and a single goblet appearing in his hand. He lowered it down so the silver blood spilled forth, filling the cup to the brim.

He held the goblet at arms length.

"Drink."

Harry's scar pulsed at Voldemort's chilling command. But the hissing from the back of Quirrell's turban didn't stop there.

"It will make me strong."

Tom's grip had loosened completely now as his arms no longer wrapped tightly around Harry. Instead his eyes were locked on the silver blood. Tom's head tilted and Harry could feel his deep desire to give into temptation. To take from this creature with no remorse.

Tom stepped away.

"Please-"

Tom ignored Harry as he took the goblet carefully in two hands.

"Please Tom-"

Tom tilted it towards his lips.

It was like a rush of energy, the true realisation of what was really occurring, burst into Harry. It didn't matter that Tom had his wand, nor that Quirrell was stronger.

"No," Harry screamed and he lunged forwards to grab Tom's arm in complete desperation.

Quirrell's wand was fast as it turned on Harry in a split second.

The goblet shattered as blood exploded. Harry flinched as the unicorn blood splattered across his clothes. Tom however, had it worse. Blood stained his hands and the front of his clothes shone a sickly silver.

Quirrell's curse did nothing as it dissipated into Harry.

"You fool," Quirrell hissed.

But Harry didn't wait around. He tore away from Quirrell on instinct. He didn't want this. He never wanted this.

The only indication that Tom had not remained behind was the bond between them did not falter. But Harry didn't wait for Tom to catch up. He just wanted to put as much distance between him and Quirrell as possible. The ground was rough and the tree roots hampered Harry's movement, but he didn't let up and break his pace.

His breathing was sharp and the stitch in Harry's side was growing, and it still felt like an age before the trees started to thin and the lights of Hogwarts flooded onto the grounds.

It was only when Harry reached the entrance hall did he stop. Blood covered him, silver and sticky as his whole body shook.

Tom hurtled in, not two seconds behind him, he too was drenched in blood and he moved to grab Harry.

"Stay back," Harry screamed. He threw his arms out in front of him.

Tom ignored him and he closed the distance between them in an instant. Hands enclosed completely around Harry to steady his shaking. It was instant relief and Harry sagged into Tom's embrace.

"Harry, we need to get out of here," Tom said.

But Harry couldn't find his strength to move. His legs felt like collapsing. The blood Quirrell had drunk had clearly affected Voldemort and in turn Tom. It was like Tom was stretched, distorted almost and Harry didn't like it. He felt different, like he was broken slightly and Harry didn't know how to put the pieces back together.

Tom pulled Harry back so he could see Harry properly. Tom's eyes were full of concern as his hand came to rest gently on Harry's scar.

Harry flinched, but the pain was dissipating slowly, his nerves calming as Tom held him steady. Harry swallowed, he wanted to say something, but Tom only shook his head. Hands flicking to check that Harry was unharmed.

A loud screech pierced their silence.

Harry jumped. Tom however, only tightened his grip around Harry's waist as they spun around. Laraine, Snape's bat, was perched a top the banister of the grand staircase, which could only mean one thing.

"Potter!"

Harry winced.

Professor Snape was standing at the top of the stairs, face ashen and wand out as he stared at the two of them. Harry wanted to die then and there. There was no way out.

"Come here, now," Snape's voice was barely a whisper but Harry dared not disobey. The floor shone silver as Harry's wet footsteps echoed across the floor.

It was only for Tom's deathly grip did Harry manage to close the gap between them. Surely Snape was better than Quirrell.

Snape looked livid, but he didn't say another word. He only turned, his robes sweeping out behind him which left Harry and Tom no choice but to follow. Laraine swept up behind them, sharp eyes keeping them constantly in her vision.

Harry didn't know where Snape was leading them, at least it wasn't the dungeons. Harry's nerves were nearly shot to pieces by the time they came to a halt. They were somewhere on the second floor in front of an ugly looking gargoyle statue.

"Acid pops," Snape said.

The gargoyle sprung to life and jumped to the side to reveal a circular set of stone steps leading steeply upwards. Snape gestured for Harry and Tom to move.

If Harry thought Snape was bad, it was about to get a whole lot worse. This was Dumbledore's office. Tom's grip tightened in Harry's hand and Harry squeezed his own back in return.

Even though it was late, Dumbledore sat behin his desk. Fawkes was perched in the office and Harry hated how both sets of eyes zoned in at once on the silver stains.

Harry didn't hesitate as he at once rushing to Tom's defence.

"It's my fault," Harry said as he pushed Tom behind him. "I asked Tom to come with me. Tom didn't do anything. Please-"

Please don't take Tom away from me.

Dumbledore only held up his hand and Harry stopped short, unsure whether to continue in his panic. Dumbledore stood, and Harry hated how only silence stretched out as he walked from behind his desk.

He didn't even acknowledge Tom.

"Where is the unicorn, Harry?"

The voice was filled with such disappointment, and even though Harry hated Dumbledore, he couldn't help but flinch under his icy stare.

It was Tom who answered.

"The Forbidden Forest, not half an hour in."

Harry didn't know if it was good or not that Dumbledore turned away.

"Severus, if you could please ask Hagrid to find the poor creature."

"Headmaster, I seriously-"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "Mr Potter is currently under my guardianship and it is also my discretion as headmaster in regards to how to proceed."

Harry wanted to just be swallowed it up. Snape looked furious but he didn't protest any further. Instead he twisted around, Laraine coming to perch on his shoulder as Snape stormed out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Harry started again.

"Tom didn't kill it, it wasn't his fault. I wanted to go into the forest, it was my-"

Dumbledore raised his hand, his stare halting Harry mid sentence.

"What happened to the unicorn, Harry?"

"I-" Harry swallowed. His eyes closed momentarily as he remembered it falling to the ground, the pain as it died underneath Quirrell's grip. He hated how he hadn't done more. He should have at least been able to do something, not just freeze.

"I-it was hurt," Harry said. "I didn't know what to do...I didn't know how to save it."

Harry knew his lie was miserable, that Dumbledore would see straight through it. Blood soaked both of them, it was so obvious something was amiss but Harry was desperate, he would say anything.

"Why were you in the forest, Harry?"

"I-" Harry faltered, there was nothing which could explain it.

"Harry was looking for Lyra."

Tom's voice totally took Harry by surprise. He tried not to show it but her name distracted him. Would she be ashamed of him too.

"Lyra?" Dumbledore asked as his own brow creased.

This time Tom didn't answer.

"My dæmon," Harry said thickly. "I thought she was close, I-"

"Ever since Harry lost her, he's been chasing shadows," Tom's lies came easier than Harry's own. "I can't always convince him to remain in the castle. He panics and runs blindly. When we happened across the injured unicorn, Harry was already distraught. Of course there was nothing we could do to save it, but Harry still had to try."

Dumbledore was silent for a long while, and Harry didn't know whether to agree and expand on what Tom had said. Instead, he settled for staring at his shoes. But the silver splatters only made his stomach churn.

"Is this the truth, Harry?"

Harry nodded as he still didn't want to meet Dumbledore's gaze. It didn't help when Fawkes took flight before he came to rest on Dumbledore's desk. Fawkes stared down at them both, and Harry, who wanted nothing more than to ran away, remained deadly still.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"Mr Potter, the severity of this is insurmountable as the forbidden forest in strictly out of bounds. I will be deducting fifty points from Gryffindor and you will have to serve detention until otherwise informed."

Only numbness consumed Harry but what else could he say. As long as they weren't going to return to the ministry.

"Detention?" Tom interrupted. "Harry is suffering after you forced his dæmon away and you think it's right to punish him?"

Fawkes screeched and Dumbledore's gaze sharpened.

"You are already treading a fine line and your story is barely believable at best. You can refer to Harry's punishment as being grounded if you prefer it."

Harry felt hot and dizzy.

"If you don't believe me, why don't you tell the ministry?" he asked.

Dumbledore however ignored his question.

"You are excused," he said.

Tom looked like he wanted to say more and Harry was fearful that Tom would pull out his wand. Harry tugged at Tom's hand, hoping he would leave it. Given the circumstances they had gotten off lightly.

Finally, Tom relented and he squeezed Harry's own as he turned. It took all of Harry's self control not to bolt out the office in an instant, instead he lead Tom slowly down the steps and into the darkened corridor.

Thankfully, Snape and Laraine were nowhere to be seen. Not that it made Harry feel any happier. It was only when they were up several flights of stairs did Harry begin to calm down.

"I don't understand," Harry said. "Why is Dumbledore protecting us from the ministry? It doesn't make any sense. Surely it's better if he has an excuse to lock you up? It's what they want right?"

Tom remained walking silently by his side.

"Tom?"

Tom shook his head.

"No, it doesn't make any sense. Which is only going to make it harder to explain to Voldemort."

Harry blanched at this.

"Why? It's his fault we're in this mess, why does it make a difference how Dumbledore acts?"

This time Tom didn't offer him an answer.

"Come on, Harry. Let's get cleaned up."

Harry stomach twisted. Why did he have the distinct impression that Tom was keeping secrets from him again.

Chapter 14 updated May 2018