"Plan? What plan?"

Tom didn't answer. He only seemed more determined as he wrapped his fingers around Harry's arm once more.

"Tom, stop it. You can't keep doing this-"

But Tom wasn't listening. He had an odd look on his face which Harry had only seen a few times before.

Harry attempted to tug himself away, but after Quirrell's interaction with Tom it was difficult to concentrate and Harry's head pulsed painfully.

"Tom, please-"

This seemed to work. Tom's footsteps slowed and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Don't fight this, Harry."

Tom could only mean the stone, but Harry didn't even have his own plan yet. It was only when they turned another corner, did Harry realise that's not what Tom had meant at all. They weren't heading back to the dormitory.

"The Hospital Wing? Are you serious? I'm fine," Harry said.

"You can barely stand, Harry," Tom said.

Harry glared at him as he yanked his arm.

"And whose fault is that?" he snapped. But somehow Harry had managed to twist away. He didn't stay free for long, as Tom reacted before Harry could take another step. Tom spun Harry around so he was slammed against the corridors stone wall.

Harry's vision blurred but that didn't stop him from kicking out. Tom however, anticipated this as he pushed his leg sharply into Harry's so that there was no room to move.

"Stop it," Tom said. "You're about to pass out."

"Get off me," Harry protested, as he attempted to untangle himself. "It's not like you care, and I was fine last time Quirrell touched you."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Last time, you still had Lyra," he said.

Harry refused to give in to his swimming vision as he blinked a couple of time.

"Just get off me."

Surprisingly, Tom did exactly this. He let go, not that Tom stepped back though, Harry still had no space to run. Instead Tom only placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"Please, just let me look after you, Harry."

Harry nearly fell into Tom's embrace then and there. The warmth that was flowing from Tom was overwhelming in itself.

"No, stop it," Harry mumbled almost deliriously. "How are you doing that?"

Tom tilted his head, and Harry knew the frown wasn't genuine.

"Doing what?"

But already Harry was relaxing, his scar numbing as Tom pulled him gently forwards.

"We should at least pick up a potion," Tom said as he began to walk. "It won't take long, and then we can talk about this properly."

Harry glared at him, but it was so hard to concentrate.

"Fine," Harry said. "But just one potion."

Madam Pomfrey noticed them at soon as they entered.

"Harry's been having nightmares," Tom said at once. "He's not been sleeping well."

"I have not- Ow," Tom pinched him hard. But Madam Pomfrey had already summoned a dreamless sleep potion as she gestured to the nearest bed.

"Potter, you look awful. Are you feeling alright?" she waved her wand over the top of his head.

"I'm fine, really," Harry said as he glared at Tom. Kulang, Madam Pomfrey's hedgehog scurried up to Harry's feet and sniffed him once.

"Potter needs a calming draught," Kulang squeaked.

Tom frowned, his face a mask of genuine concern.

"Harry's not been sleeping well for weeks. He'll be alright won't he?"

Madam Pomfrey glanced over Harry again before she waved her wand. A couple more potions whizzed into her hand.

"These three will do," Madam Pomfrey said and she handed them to Tom. "Make sure he drinks all of them, and you're staying in here tonight."

"I'll look after him," Tom said and he flashed a smile.

She only nodded, before she turned and made her way towards her office. Kulang followed behind her but he didn't look too happy.

"I don't want it," Harry said, as soon as Madam Pomfrey had retreated. Harry pushed Tom's arm away as he attempted to swing his legs out of bed. "And I agreed one potion, that was it."

Tom gripped Harry's shoulders.

"You need rest, Harry," Tom said.

"I do not-"

But Tom was already pressing the dreamless sleep potion into his mouth. Harry coughed and spluttered, but Tom only tipped the potion back further causing Harry to swallow. At once, a horrible drowsiness was spreading through Harry. His arms already felt tired and he sunk forwards into Tom's steadying embrace.

"Tom, don't- what about tomorrow? I can't sleep now-"

Tom didn't answer as he only positioned Harry gently onto the bed, his hand brushing over Harry's burning scar. It felt soothing to the touch and it was so difficult to concentrate when Tom was lulling him to sleep.

"Everything will be okay, Harry," Tom whispered. "I promise."

Harry tried to respond but his eyes were so heavy. Harry heard Tom step away, his footsteps echoing across the floor.

"I need to speak to-" but Tom's voice faded into nothing.

Tom couldn't remember the last time Harry looked so peaceful. He was almost envious as Harry slept, chest rising and falling gently as the morning sun beamed through the window. Tom had managed to claw a little sleep himself, but he hadn't been able to settle. He had too much on his mind. Of course, he was ready for this. He had to be, as there was only one way it could end.

Harry took a moment to gain his bearings as he stirred. There was a moment of genuine calm as Harry pulled himself up before noticed Tom who was still sitting on the end of the bed. Tom was expecting it but it still bothered him as Harry's defence went up.

"You drugged me," Harry said as he clenched his fists.

"Yes."

Harry flinched and he tried terribly to hide how much Tom's callous response bothered him. Fortunately, they were saved from an argument as Madam Pomfrey appeared.

"Good, you're awake," she said as Kulung trotted up behind her. "Well at least you're looking better."

Harry jumped at the opportunity as he swung his legs out of bed.

"Lie back down, Potter. You're not going anywhere," Madam Pomfrey said.

"I'm fine," Harry protested.

"You're fine when I say you're fine," Madam Pomfrey said and she pulled out a couple of more potions. "Classes can wait."

Tom lent forwards and pressed his cooling hand to Harry's forehead.

"He is burning up a little," Tom said.

"Mmm, I'm not surprised," she nodded before glancing at Harry with a scowl. "Make sure he takes these, and I'll have the kitchen send some chocolate up."

Tom only smiled as she busied herself back to her office. Harry turned to Tom glaring. He didn't touch any of the potions.

"What happens today?"

But Tom didn't say anything.

"Tom? Is Voldemort going to take the stone today?" Harry asked.

Tom had to tread very carefully. Any slip up would cost them everything. And Tom had already paid the price.

"Voldemort wants my help retrieving the stone," Tom said.

Harry didn't even hesitate. Why would he. Tom already knew what his answer would be.

"No."

Tom crossed his arms.

"Voldemort won't accept that."

"I don't care," Harry said stiffly. "Voldemort can't get his body back. And you said the stone was still protected."

"It is, but that's why Voldemort needs my assistance. Quirrell can't fight the creature alone," Tom said.

"Well that's unlucky for him," Harry said and he leaned back against his pillows and crossed his arms. Harry could be annoying stubborn at times, and Tom knew not even asking a favour would shift his decision.

"So what now, is it your job to keep me quiet until Quirrell can get the stone?" Harry said.

Tom resisted the urge to smile. At least Harry had cottoned on to why he'd shoved a dreamless sleep potion down his throat.

"No," Tom said. "It's my job to keep you safe."

Tom had told Harry this time and time again, but it was still annoying that Harry thought he had no reason to believe him.

"Safe?" Harry said. "Good luck with that. I won't help you get the stone and you won't tell the ministry. It doesn't really leave us with any options that will end well."

Tom tilted his head and he was genuinely curious how Harry was going to react to his next statement.

"There's one option left," Tom said slowly. "We can run."

Harry didn't respond. If anything he looked distinctly unimpressed as he raised his eyebrows. It was horrible how he remained silent, waiting for Tom to offer any sort of explanation.

Tom sighed.

"You asked me to choose, between you and Voldemort. Well, I choose you. Of course I do."

The words sounded stupid, particularly after everything that had happened since the unicorn and it was clear that Harry thought so to. His eyes narrowed and Tom knew his own heart was racing alongside Harry's. It was what Harry wanted to hear. What he needed to hear.

"You wouldn't tell me that in the forest," Harry said as he turned his face away. "So why are you bothering now?"

And then Tom was there, shifting closer on the bed but not quite making contact. Harry didn't realise how easy he was to manipulate without his dæmon. A little tug here, a flicker of the right emotion. It was fascinating. Harry had never been like this before Lyra had left. Even now, Tom could feel Harry's hesitation, his burning desire to withdraw. But Tom had no other choice.

Tom placed his hand in Harry's, and he immediately saw Harry relax slightly, just like last night. The creases fell from Harry's forehead and he even leaned in closer. It really wasn't right, but it had been like this for awhile.

"It's complicated, Harry," Tom said.

By the way Harry was holding himself it looked like he was screaming at himself to pull away. But manipulating people is what Tom did best.

"I'm attached to you and to Voldemort, but you're so different."

Tom wrapped his arms around Harry which only caused Harry to sink into his embrace.

"Voldemort is my own soul, just like Lyra is yours, and I know how much you crave her," Tom said.

"Yes, but Voldemort-" Harry started.

"Is still apart of me," Tom cut across him. "Without Lyra you're not right. Only half of a whole. It's the same for me."

Again Harry tried to hide how much this bothered him, as he looked away. Tom only pulled Harry's gaze back with a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"I can't help who I'm attached to."

Again, Harry instinctively made to pull away, but Tom only coaxed him back as he shifted next to him so he was sitting closer.

"You were fine before you met Voldemort, why do you need him now? It's not like you rely on him," Harry said.

Tom sighed heavily this time.

"Because I didn't know what I was missing," Tom said and then he waved his hand. "But that's not the point. The point is that I still choose you, Harry."

Now Harry actually had the nerve to laugh. His own face twisting into an odd smile as he stared at Tom.

When had Harry got so cold. Tom knew without Lyra he was temperamental at best, but this wasn't right. It wasn't Harry. And that scared Tom more than he would ever admit it.

"You're just lying again," Harry said.

"You think it's impossible to choose another soul over my own?" Tom bit out. "You did it, why is it different for me?"

Harry's gaze snapped to Tom's, his smile disappearing in an instant.

Now Tom knew he had Harry's attention and he withheld his smile.

"I didn't forgot, you know. You said you chose me, that you only wanted me. Right before Lyra left remember?"

Now Harry nodded, before his shoulders sagged. Tom couldn't tell if Harry was relieved or scared.

"Okay, we run."

Tom was smiling at him, but there was a deep sadness which lingered.

"But you don't think we'll get far?" Harry said.

"Of course we won't," Tom said. "Two first years running from both the Ministry and Voldemort, we won't have a chance."

"But?"

Tom pulled Harry close again.

"But we still have to try. I would rather run and get caught then risk something happening to you."

Harry still thought he had misheard. Tom was saying everything he wanted. But none of it made any sense. Tom was clearly up to something, but it was difficult to disagree when running really looked like their best option. Harry didn't want to leave Hogwarts, but if Quirrell was acting tonight and he managed to gain the stone then Harry wouldn't get a choice in the matter. At least if they ran they would be together, and that was all Harry wanted.

"I heard some older students talking about a passageway, it apparently leads to a building in Hogsmede," Tom said. " It's hidden so no one should find us."

By mid afternoon, Harry had finally managed to persuade Madam Pomfrey that he was well enough to leave her clutches. However, this only left a short amount of time to prepare, but as Harry dug through his trunk for any essential things to take, he realised he really didn't own that much.

Harry was left with his outdoor cloak, a small pouch full of gold, his wand and a few pumpkin pasties which he had swiped from Ron. The plan was to leave straight after dinner, but it felt odd to be sitting with Ron and Hermione knowing he might not see them again for a long while. Harry even found himself thinking he might miss Draco.

Tom had been trying to encourage him to eat something, but Harry really didn't have an appetite. Their future was so uncertain and it was a daunting enough without trying to force some normality into conversations, let alone try and eat something.

Finally, Tom nodded to Harry.

"Are you done already?" Hermione asked as they both rose from the table.

"We're going to the Library," Harry said.

"Oh, I'll come," Hermione said as Ramiron squeaked. "I was going to read up on the charms homework Professor Flitwick gave us. I picked you up a copy by the way."

"Actually Hermione," Tom smiled, "We were hoping to have some time alone."

Hermione looked between the two of them as she beamed.

"Oh, of course. Have you two made up then?"

Tom only smiled as he started to walk away.

"Something like that."

Harry just hoped it was true, maybe when they left Hogwarts everything would be okay again.

There was still a little light in the sky as they made their way across the grounds. Tom strode quickly, he was eager to get moving as Harry followed. They stopped before a huge willow tree. It was flailing around violently, and looked like it would attack anyone who approached.

"Are you sure there's a passageway around here?" Harry asked. He glanced back at the castle nervously, but there was no evidence they had been followed.

"Give me your wand," Tom said.

Harry handed it over, as the large tree continued to wave it's large branches around. Tom expertly summoned a nearby branch and it flew across before hitting a small knot at the base of the tree. It happened at once. The large branches stilled.

As they approached the base of the tree, Harry could see a small opening tucked behind a large root. In fact it was so well hidden, anyone who didn't know how to approach the tree would have missed it. The tunnel was small, but Harry and Tom managed to climb down and they were short enough that they didn't have to duck their heads. Harry was already beginning to feel more confident. Surely if they were being followed, someone would have caught up to them by now.

Of course, Harry's comfort wouldn't last long. They must have walked through the tunnel for a good hour before they finally came across the house Tom had mentioned.

"Wait, this is-"

"The place where Voldemort brought us after the trial, yes," Tom said.

An uneasy feeling spread through Harry and his stomach felt like it had flipped upside down.

"It's empty," Tom said and he took Harry's hand as he began to walk up the stairs.

Harry let Tom lead the way, but he really didn't have any desire to explore the old building. Although, from the boarded up windows it looked like they would have to break out somewhere.

There was a single door upstairs and the door stood ajar.

"Tom," Harry said. "We shouldn't stay here long, Quirrell might have realised we've left by now."

"Yes," Tom said quietly. "I imagine he has."

Tom pushed the door further open and stepped into the room. The room was dark, but something was glinting in the corner. Tom drew their wand, but he didn't summon any light. He didn't need to. Harry froze. Terror consuming him as his nightmare became real.

The silver guillotine stood before then. Tall and imposing.

The blade was no longer shattered. Its sharp edge was perfectly in tact, shimmering in the little light the shack had to offer. Now the reason the Death Eaters had stolen the guillotine became horrible apparent.

There was a loud bang as the door behind them slammed shut. Harry jerked around and grabbed the rusty handle, but it was too late.

The door locked shut.

Harry's head erupted in pain as Quirrell emerged from the shadows. Harry had no time to panic as he reacted on instinct.

"You can't touch me," Harry said and he dragged Tom behind him.

Quirrell didn't move, he didn't even raise his wand. Instead the most chilling smile crept onto his face.

And in a moment Harry's world came crashing down. Tom stepped around him, prising Harry's fingers away from his sleeve. He came to a halt beside Quirrell. Wand raised and pointed directly in Harry's face.

"No, he can't," Tom said. "But I can."

Tom's eyes were hard, a cruel expression lingering on his lips.

Harry understood and his heart broke.

"T-Tom?"

Complete silence. Harry tried again, his whole body shaking, tears swelling in his eyes. He struggled to find his voice.

"D-don't you want me anymore?"

But deep down, Harry had already known.

Tom tilted his head and surveyed Harry like he was nothing more than an naïve toy.

"Get in the cage, Harry."

Harry didn't move. He couldn't.

Tom sighed as he twirled their wand around.

"Well, if you insist."

Tom's curse hit Harry.

Harry's eyes snapped open and his scar seared with a sharp burning pain. His eyes focused at once on the mesh like cage and the unforgiving blade. Sharp and glinting as it hung high above him. It stood out against the rotten ceiling, pristine and deadly.

The cage itself was claustrophobic as it enveloped Harry completely. Harry lay frozen as a deep sickness rose in his chest as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

Harry could hear footsteps, but he would not let panic consume him. He'd dreamt of the guillotine. Woken from his suffocating nightmares often enough that he would not be afraid. The footsteps stopped right outside Harry's cage.

"Get up," Tom instructed.

Harry sat up, one knee drawn up to his chest as there was no space to stand. Tom watched him with cold eyes. It was so horribly apparent what had happened as only clear cold resentment was shared between them.

Harry clutched the bars tightly, as he stared across at Tom. He would not be afraid. One small cut, that's all it would take and then Tom would be gone. Harry didn't know what was worse, the actual thing itself, or that fact that Tom had chosen Voldemort.

Harry should have expected it, Tom had all but confirmed it in the forest. Harry had just refused to accept it, he'd hung on because he had to, because without Lyra, Tom was all he had. Harry's heart ached, but he would not show Tom how much it hurt. Tom didn't deserve the satisfaction.

"I get it," Harry said coldly.

Tom shrugged, an amused smile crept onto his face as his eyes scanned Harry almost hungrily.

"I want to be with my own soul again," Tom said.

Of course he did.

"I wasn't enough," Harry said. It wasn't a question, but Tom only hummed as he twirled Harry's wand around absently.

"Maybe once," Tom agreed. "But you're less without Lyra. You're incomplete."

It was like Tom was alien. Everything about him felt wrong, distorted almost. Like when Quirrell had drunk the blood from the unicorn.

Behind Tom, Quirrell was preparing something in a cauldron. His turban had been removed, and Harry could see Voldemort's fierce red eyes and his gruesome face imprinted onto the back of his head. Voldemort was watching them, absorbed in their every interaction. But the horror didn't end there. Harry could also see a few bottles of something that looked like silver blood.

Tom noticed Harry's gaze.

"The unicorn blood should anchor me to life," Tom said. "Our separation will be a clean cut, but there's no harm in a little guarantee."

Tom would still exist, he would be tied to Voldemort instead. Harry however, he could already feel the darkness encroaching in.

As if to rub salt in the wound, Tom tilted his head deliberately, because he knew what Harry was thinking. He raised his voice and called back to Quirrell.

"When I become yours again, what will happen to Harry?" Tom said.

Quirrell only smirked as he continued. However it was Voldemort, whose gaze was locked on them both who answered.

"I will finish what should have been done all those years ago," he hissed.

Voldemort was going to kill him. At least Harry wouldn't live long without Tom, if anything it was reassurance. Harry just hoped it would be quick.

Quirrell paused, clearly sensing something Harry could not.

"It bothers you?" Voldemort hissed.

For the first time, Tom looked away from Harry.

"I have become fond of him, nothing more."

Each word was like a knife being twisted into Harry's gut.

"Attachment's are weak," Voldemort hissed.

"Then why didn't you just let the Ministry separate us before?" Harry said and he raised his voice in Quirrell's direction, anything to distract himself from Tom's piercing gaze. "You could have taken Tom for yourself then."

"No," Tom answered for Voldemort. "If anything had gone wrong, as soon as I was separated from you, the aurors could have aimed to kill and there would have been no consequence. I was safe as long as I was attached to you."

"How convenient," Harry spat.

Voldemort seemed to have become tired of their interactions, for his eyes narrowed.

"Be quiet, child." Voldemort demanded.

Tom only shrugged and stepped away. Now he approached Quirrell who was still making his concoction. Quirrell was stirring the potion carefully now, but Voldemort's eyes followed Tom as he stepped across the room.

The rotten floorboards creaked beneath Tom's feet and Harry was surprised the room hadn't already given way to the weight from the guillotine.

"Is that how you contact your Death Eaters?" Tom asked as he came to stand beside Quirrell.

Quirrell's sleeves were rolled back and Harry could just about see a black mark on his left arm. He looked annoyed at the interruption. Voldemort however was captivated by Tom. Harry could feel Voldemort's intrigue and the desire to take back what was his.

"I had Quirrell mark himself before your trial," Voldemort hissed.

Tom raised his own sleeve and traced his own fingers across his own untainted skin.

"Will you mark me?" Tom asked.

"No," Voldemort hissed. "You are far more than a servant."

Tom seemed pleased about this as he hummed and absently twirled Harry's wand between his fingers. Harry wished he could look away. He didn't want to be dependent on Tom in his final moments, still desperate for some sort of affection which they used to share. He wasn't going to find it.

Harry shut his eyes. If anything to stop Tom from stealing his soul attention. Instead, Harry tried to think of Lyra. He wished she'd never left. Harry could still remember Lyra's light brown fur and her face which was white with darker brown surrounding her eyes.

Harry had spent hours imagining Lyra jumping around or just sitting in his lap, much like her reflection. He'd burnt her into his memories.
And it gave Harry a weak satisfaction that Tom would never be able to take that from him. Lyra had been his alone. Tom had never even seen her.

A sudden loud noise tore Harry from his memories as his eyes snapped open. Tom was in front of the cage again and he had a rather nasty smile on his face.

"Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry glared at him, but it seemed that whatever Quirrell had been doing was finished. The bottle which contained the silver unicorn blood was now empty and the cauldron was bubbling over.

"Drink," Quirrell instructed to Tom. He held out a full vial of silver. "And get in the cage."

It sickened Harry to see Tom bow his head. To submit in a single gesture. Harry's hands clutched the bars.

Tom didn't move, and Harry knew Tom had truly decided that Harry was worthless. Harry wanted to hate him, wished that he could stop himself from caring, but their connection was still so strong. Like a lifeline that Harry couldn't let go.

"Just get on with it," Harry said.

If he was angry enough, maybe it would stop hurting. Maybe it would be over before Harry lost his resolve. Maybe he would be able to picture Lyra again.

Tom trailed their wand across the bars as his expression flicked in something more sinister.

"Are you tempted?" Voldemort hissed to Tom.

Tom tilted his head and Harry could feel his simmering curiosity, but he didn't move his wand. Harry forced down his rising sickness. Tom used to protect him, not dream of inflicting pain.

"My Lord," Quirrell said. "We should not delay."

But Harry could feel Voldemort's simmering hate and knew that taking Tom from him was not enough.

"It would be a shame if Potter didn't suffer first," Voldemort hissed, as his horrible slit eyes focused onto Tom.

Tom however, didn't move. Instead, he only held Harry's gaze.

"You want me to hurt, Harry?" Tom asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Voldemort did not offer him an answer.

Tom leveled the wand.

Harry glared at him, almost daring Tom to actually go through with it. Cursing him would be nothing in comparison to what Tom had already done. Harry's Tom would never have placed him in the guillotine.

"Do it now," Voldemort hissed.

Instead, Tom lowered the wand and he reached forwards to grip the mesh of the cage. A sad smile crossed his face, and never before had Harry seen Tom's eyes so full of hurt. Tom didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Harry could feel Tom's longing and his desperation to connect.

Harry had felt hollow for weeks, lost from Tom in every sense. And now, in an instant, horrible understanding chilled Harry to the bone.

"Tom-" Harry flung himself at the mesh. He made a grab for Tom's hand but there was nothing Harry could do.

Tom stepped back and spun their wand fast, curse flashing red as Quirrell reacted to counter it. But he was too slow. Harry grabbed his scar, it was intense. On fire. He cried out, but it the pain wouldn't stop.

Quirrell's wand lay metres away.

"You fool! What are you doing?" Quirrell said, and he made to advance towards Tom.

But at a sharp curse from Tom, which narrowly missed Quirrell's arm, halted his movements. Tom's laugh was cold and unforgiving, his eyes so terrifying.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Tom's eyes flashed and a cruel smile curled onto his face. "I'm protecting what is mine."

Harry's heart twisted.

"You can have the boy-" Voldemort hissed.

"Don't lie," Tom snapped as dark red sparks shot from his wand. "You may be able to fool anyone else, but not me. Don't you dare try and fool me. You have every reason to keep Harry alive. That was your one chance to gain my unwavering loyalty, but you never even considered it. To you there was no other option but to destroy Harry. And I want to know why?"

Tom's words cut straight through Harry, but there was nothing Harry could do as he jerked against his prison.

"You are ignorant," Voldemort hissed. "The boy must die, that is all you need to know."

Tom's expression slipped into a chilling smile.

"Yes, it is."

Tom was quick and his wand flashed and then Quirrell was screaming as he writhed on the floor. Harry cried out, his scar fierce as he felt something warm and wet trickle down his face.

Tom's curse deceased immediately, concern now seeping straight into Harry's core. But Tom would not be distracted.

"I am disgusted that I am anything attached to you, you are nothing, a mere spirit with no body, no power," Tom said.

"I have power," Voldemort hissed. "You would be nothing without me, trapped in the hands of my enemies."

Tom stepped closer to Quirrell who had managed to compose himself. He stood, still unarmed as Tom leveled his wand.

"And if Potter doesn't want you anymore? You pushed the boy away, why are you worth anything to him?"

That fear again, fleeting but so true. Tom didn't answer, how could he. But Voldemort had lost his patience.

"Cease him," Voldemort hissed.

Quirrell didn't even get a chance to move. Tom was quick, Quirrell's wand went flying further away with one easy flick. But it didn't matter. Quirrell didn't need his wand. Instead Quirrell pressed his finger sharply onto the mark sketched into his skin. Harry's scar erupted and he screamed, hands pressing to his forehead in an attempt for some relief.

Cracks filled the air and with it all remaining hope vanished. Death Eaters. Black figures without their daemon materialised and they all had their wands raised.

Harry rattled his prison, but there was nothing he could do. Voldemort was screaming, hissing orders as Tom was surrounded. It didn't matter how fast Tom acted, his skill was nowhere near sufficient against the number of Death Eaters.

This couldn't be how it ended. Not now. But there was little Harry could do. The remaining energy Harry had, evaporated in an instant the moment Tom was held.

Harry's limbs went slack as the wind from his lungs dissipated. His head was spinning as he wanted to scream and shout. To condemn them for doing what was forbidden. And then Tom was in the other cage. It locked shut, but Harry had no relief.

The fear was overwhelming, but now, the fact Tom had switched without any indication only added to the confusion. If Harry hadn't felt Tom's screaming sincerity, he would have believed it only be another trick.

"You'll regret that," Quirrell spat as he walked up the bars backwards. He had retrieved his wand from the floor.

Tom's mouth slipped into a smile.

"Will I?"

For the first time a flash of uncertainty crossed Quirrell's face.

"Your mark," Tom said and he pressed himself against the cage, teeth bared, totally delirious. "It destroys wards doesn't it? That's how your Death Eaters got in?"

Voldemort's red eyes flashed.

"What have you done?" he demanded.

Tom's smile only widened as he winked at Harry. It was almost instant. Not even a minute after the Death Eaters had arrived.

Another series of loud cracks went off around the room, and Harry jumped back in his cage. Red robes. Dozens of them, spread throughout the room.

Harry had never been more pleased to see the Aurors, wands out and spells flying.

Quirrell cried out, as he spun furiously. He shouted commands towards the Death Eaters. There was a mass of black and red as curses shot through the room.

Harry could do nothing but watch. He recognised the witch from the ministry. Her Jack Rabbit was darting through the curses straight towards their cage.

Dumbledore was in the fray too, and Quirrell seemed to target him as the battle erupted. It was the same for Scrimgeour as the auror weaved through the most able targets to secure ground. The Death Eaters held an advantage for they had no daemons to identify them and the aurors had to weave carefully as their own dæmons dodged deadly curses.

And then the witch was right outside Harry's cage. Her back was exposed yet her dæmon cried out in warning. She ducked and narrowly missing the curse as she flicked her wand.

The cage clicked open and Harry didn't hesitate. He threw himself forwards and scrambled out. The witch grabbed his wrist and pulled Harry away from the guillotine.

"Tom-" Harry started, but his voice died in this throat. No sooner had he taken two steps away did something go horribly wrong.

Beside him, he heard the witch gasp. Harry's arm was ripped out of her grip, before her whole body was flung away from Harry in one powerful incantation.

Quirrell was right beside him and he lunged forwards. Hands enclosed tight around Harry's neck.

Harry couldn't breathe.

"Stand down," Quirrell screamed.

Harry gasped, scrabbling as his body thrashed as Quirrell held him in a choking hold.

Harry could hear Tom calling his name. Although maybe he only imagined it. Lights flashed before his eyes, but Harry couldn't tell if it was the curses from the battle, or just his own vision as he struggled for oxygen.

But Quirrell was screaming, and almost as soon as it had started, his grip loosened. Harry fell to the floor and graspt at his throat, desperate for some release.

Cracks echoed throughout the room. They were loud and obnoxious as they popped into Harry's ears.

And then Quirrell and Voldemort were gone.

The pain from Harry's scar diminished.

"The room is secure, sir," a voice called out.

There were hurried footsteps and someone gripped Harry shoulder. A wand with a light flashed into Harry's face. Harry blinked, and tried to bat it away.

"Tonks?" Scrimgeour's guff voice spoke out.

"Potter is safe, sir."

Harry's vision blinked in and out of focus. He could see the witch who had been flung away from him was okay. She was knelt before him, dæmon by her side as she scanned her wand across Harry's throat.

"Alastor?" Scrimgeour continued.

"Riddle is contained," a gruff voice spoke out.

Harry's heart froze. Tom was still locked in the cage.

Harry scrabbled up, but Tonks held him back. Harry wanted to call out, say something, but his throat was still burning.

Tom wasn't looking at him, instead his gaze was cold as he flicked between Dumbledore and Scrimgeour.

"You promised," Tom hissed as he shook the bars.

Dumbledore stepped closer, but he didn't say anything. It was Scrimgeour who only needed to nod his head.

Half a dozen wands locked straight onto Tom.

Chapter 16 updated May 2018