Harry tiptoed back into the manor glancing left and right.

"You're not going to get away with it," Tom said.

"I might," Harry said. "And keep your voice down."

Beside him Tom walked comfortably as Harry strained his ears to see if anyone was coming into the entrance hall.

"You could at least watch where you're stepping," Harry said, as Tom's own footprints left muddy patches across the polished floor.

"I'm not the one who crashed," Tom said.

"I didn't crash," Harry protested as he began to climb carefully up the large staircase. "You made me lose balance."

"Well after a manoeuvre like that how did you expect me to stay on? I don't defy gravity you know."

"Well neither do I," Harry bit back. "But in future you need to stay still."

"You were rocketing towards the ground," Tom said, crossing his arms. "You shouldn't wait till the very last second to pull up."

Harry shrugged as they reached the top of the stairs. He began to edge his way along the corridor. It was no use though as each footprint left a fresh imprint on the carpet. Above them, dozens of portraits from numerous generations of the Malfoy family glared down at them.

"I think you got away with it," Tom commented when they reached their bedroom door.

Harry glared at him.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack and a squeak. Harry jumped a mile, muddy hand flying out to steady himself against the wall.

The Malfoy's house elf, dressed in its old pillowcase, was standing in the centre of the hall. Its hands were held up over his ears and its eyes wide at the trail of mud Harry and Tom had left.

"I'm sorry," Harry started, but Dobby wasn't listening as he shook his head violently.

He disappeared again with another loud crack.

Harry removed his hand from the wall which now left a very obvious Harry sized hand print. After about ten seconds of nothing, Harry peered back over his shoulder.

"Do you think we should just leave?"

But Tom never got to reply. Another crack and Dobby reappeared with a large bucket of soapy water, a mop and some sponges.

Harry and Tom watched as Dobby knelt down, nearly tripping over his pillowcase as he began to clean.

Harry knelt down and grabbed a sponge. Tom remained standing, watching with his arms crossed and a deep frown.

Dobby however, was not so amused as he stared at Harry with a new found horror.

"Bad Dobby! Harry Potter should not be doing that!"

Harry had never heard the small elf speak before, and his voice was high pitched and worryingly carried down the hall.

"I was just helping-" Harry started.

But this apparently was too much for the small elf, as without warning he leapt forwards and grabbed the mop.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Dobby said as he smashed the implement over his head.

Harry darted forward, attempting to prise it from Dobby's grip.

"What are you doing?!"

But the elf was surprisingly strong as he smashed it against he head once again.

"Harry Potter is a guest," Dobby said. "He should not be cleaning. If Harry Potter is helping then Dobby is not doing his job properly."

"But it's my mess!" Harry said. "I'll clean it up."

But Dobby was having none of it as he nearly knocked the bucket of soapy water over.

"Bad Dobby. Bad Dobby!"

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again," Harry said, hands still gripping the other end of the mop, just in case Dobby decided to try anything again.

Instead, Dobby did the exact opposite as he froze and promptly burst into tears.

"Look, I'll sort it out. And I won't do it again. I promise," Harry said. "I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Upset Dobby!" Dobby said as he stared at Harry in complete disbelief. "Dobby has never been apologised to by a wizard-"

"Oh right, well-" Harry started.

But Tom it seemed was long past his patience.

"Leave us," Tom instructed clearly taking a single step forwards.

Dobby stopped at once, relinquishing the mop to Harry as bowed low to Tom before disappearing with a loud crack.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry said, "I know he was a bit hysterical but-"

"You don't need to clean, and you certainly didn't need to apologise," Tom said.

"It was my fault-"

"You're not at the Dursley's anymore," Tom said sharply. "You never need to do anything like that again, do you understand me?"

Harry stared at Tom, a cold expression on his face.

"It was my fault," Harry repeated tightly. "I guess you're used to not thinking about the consequences."

Tom's eyes widened ever so slightly but his lips remained shut. Harry smiled viciously, glad that he had touched a nerve.

Tom's chest rose and fell as he took a single deep breath, but he didn't break eye contact.

"He's a house-elf. It's his job to clean up. If he's not obeying the Malfoy's then he'll punish himself and you'll only cause him more distress."

That certainly explained why Dobby had been so adamant with the mop, but Harry didn't want to admit that. Instead Harry crossed his arms and glared at Tom.

"That's stupid. It makes no sense."

Tom smiled at him, almost like he knew Harry's charade.

"Dobby will be much happier if you leave him to it."

It wasn't right. But Tom it seemed was done with the conversation as he stepped over the bucket of water.

Harry continued to glare after him as Tom's muddy shoes only left more footprints. Annoying Tom was right, Harry was only causing more work for everyone.

Harry followed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he entered the room. He was about to say something else about Dobby, but all thoughts of the small elf promptly disappeared. A letter was resting on Harry's bedside table.

Harry crossed the room and tore it open, scanning the words quickly, before sitting down heavily on his bed. Mud now covered the bed sheets but Harry didn't care.

It was just the same as Ron's last letter which had arrived the other day. Hedwig had delivered it after Errol had stopped feeling up for the journey.

"Let me guess," Tom said quietly. "You still haven't had any luck finding out what happens when a person loses a dæmon?"

Harry glared at him, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel deep disappointment. From the sound of Ron's many scribbles, it looked like Mr Weasley had been very angry that Ron had asked at all.

"You really don't want to know, Harry" Tom said.

Harry clenched his fists. It was such a stupid thing for Tom to say. It was Harry who had lost Lyra, he deserved to know more than Tom. And even when they'd been at odds with each other for weeks, and Tom had been going out of his way to accommodate anything Harry wanted, on this subject Tom wouldn't budge.

At Harry's stony silence, Tom sighed heavily and moved into the bathroom. Harry could hear the sound of taps being turned and then the running of bath water.

Glancing down at his muddy robes, Harry was still in half the mind to stay in the bedroom and ignore Tom, but Dobby had been distraught enough already.

Harry marched into the bathroom.

"Come on," Harry said. "Having no deamon can't be worse than the moment I lost Lyra."

Tom didn't say anything, instead he turned slowly hands moving to unbutton Harry's shirt. But Tom stopped as Harry gripped his wrist tightly.

"You can't hide it from me forever."

Toms didn't meet Harry's eyes. His heart was racing, and Harry could feel every beat through Tom's distress.

"Harry, not having a dæmon destroys a person," Tom said quietly.

Harry fixed Tom with a cold stare.

"How?"

Again Tom didn't say a word.

Fine. If Tom wasn't going to play fair, Harry didn't need to either and Tom owed him an answer.

Harry stepped closer, knowing that Tom craved normality more than he'd admit.

"Tom," Harry said, hands wrapping around Tom's waist. His clothes were still muddy, but as expected Tom didn't seem to care. He stilled, watching Harry carefully.

"Tell me," Harry tilted his head, eyes locked onto Tom intently. "We always share everything."

"Don't-" Tom started with a sad knowing smile. "It won't work."

Harry scowled, drawing away almost as quickly as he'd leant in.

Tom however moved with him, arms locking either side of Harry so that Harry's back was pressed hard into the sink.

"Do you remember that book you first got in Diagon Alley last year?" Tom said. His voice was barely audible and Harry thought he'd misheard at first. He had bought a number of books on top of his school ones, but they hardly seemed important now.

"The Rise and Fall of the Dart Arts?"

Tom shook his head.

"Me, Myself and My Daemon. You read it, remember? It lightly touches on what happens."

Harry was about to move out of the bathroom to find the book, but Tom's next words held him in place.

"It says the person becomes a shadow of what they once were."

"A shadow? What the hell does that mean?" Harry asked.

Tom frowned, chewing his lip as he chose his words carefully. He didn't move away though as he said softly.

"I did say it lightly touches upon it."

But Harry couldn't help but feel a rush of triumph. The Hogwarts library or even the Malfoy's large expanse of a library would probably have something on shadows.

"Harry," Tom's voice was sharp, sensing Harry's resolve. "Please just drop it. I'm not going anywhere, you don't need to know. Anyway, that book is aimed towards children, shadow is ambiguous enough. Other books will just address them by their proper name."

This caused Harry to stop and stare. That made no sense.

"Them?"

Tom held his gaze steady, unblinking as Harry digested the information.

"So what?" Harry said slowly, as he tried to ignore the shiver running through his body. "I would've turned into something? Like a werewolf?"

Tom ran his hand down his face, half distraught, otherwise a smile tugging at his lips.

"Not a werewolf," Tom said. "But why do you think there was such outrage when the ministry tried to separate us? You would have changed past anything recoverable."

Harry's mind flashed back to the silver blade hanging precariously above his head. Dumbledore had gambled on Lyra coming back.

"So the Ministry has the guillotine to create these...whatever they are?"

Again Tom didn't answer. He seemed to be running out of vague answers and Harry knew he wasn't getting any more information today.

"Tom, I'll find out-" Harry started anyway.

"You should get cleaned up," Tom said, suddenly squeezing Harry's hand.

"Tom-"

But he'd already left the bathroom leaving Harry feeling more confused than before.

The day before Harry's birthday arrived and with it saw Adara bouncing excitedly around the dining table.

"Finish your lunch," Arren snapped as Adara nearly knocked over the pumpkin juice.

Draco shifted sheepishly as his mother stroked her dæmon. Her Arctic fox was sitting in her lap and had been eyeing up Adara cautiously for the last half hour.

Harry was just finishing his own lunch when Lucius Malfoy set down his own goblet. Chandraki ruffled her feathers which seemed to have an immediate affect on Adara. She ducked her head and shifted under Draco's arm.

"I trust you are all ready?" Lucius said.

Harry sat up, butterflies in his stomach. Draco jumped up and started to make his way towards the fireplace.

"Not today, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said. "I've arranged a Portkey."

Harry immediately hoped his sandwich would stay down.

Lucius Malfoy pulled out a round object from his robes which looked like a small glass paperweight.

Narcissa kept Arren carefully in her arms as she touched the portkey. Adara shifted up onto Draco's shoulder as he also held out his arm. Chandraki perched herself on a chair while Lucius Malfoy tucked one hand carefully under her wing.

Harry looked towards Tom as they both reached out their hands.

In an instant the portkey activated.

Harry's feet left the ground as everything spun. Beside him, Tom had his eyes shut and his face had gone distinctly pale.

They landed in a small clearing which was packed with witches, wizards and dæmons. Harry was relieved that he and Tom weren't the only ones who'd fallen over as Draco and Adara lay on the grass.

Lucius Malfoy set off at a brisk pace, causing Harry, Tom, Draco and Adara to scramble up. They joined a steady stream of people walking up to a large stadium.

"You'll love it," Adara squeaked as they passed salesmen with large flags and banners hovering above their heads.

The sheer number of wizards, witches and dæmons was overwhelming. Creatures of all shape and sizes that Harry had never seen before were darting through the crowd or soaring high above their heads.

The only thing Harry hadn't anticipated was how difficult it was to navigate through the crowd. Adara was perched on Draco's shoulder, tail wrapped tight around his neck. Lucius Malfoy had an imposing enough presence that people seemed to part out of his way, allowing Chandraki to follow comfortably behind. Even Narcissa Malfoy had no problems with Arren following close by her heel.

Tom however looked human, and even though he was transparent to others, it wasn't immediately obvious for everyone surrounding them to avoid him.

People had already nearly bumped into Tom a number of times. So now Harry's grip was deadly tight as he lead Tom from in front. It still didn't help that Harry had to avoid treading on all the smaller dæmons which darted under his feet.

Lucius Malfoy lead them high up the stadium to what must have been the best seats. They were right at the top in a row of fancy boxes with cushy seats.

Adara at once jumped off Draco's shoulder to run along the top of the railings. Draco joined her, peering over the high banister to look down on the crowd below.

Harry let go of Tom at once.

"Look," Draco pointed enthusiastically.

The crowd cheered as fourteen players flew onto the pitch, each followed by their respective dæmons. The referee wasn't that far behind, dressed in bright blue robes with a gull soaring alongside.

Harry was trying to remember all the rules. He'd only gotten the gist of them from watching the matches at school.

"The Montrose Magpies are great," Draco said. "But the Falcon's have the edge, you'll see their beaters are ruthless."

Draco pointed down to the dark grey and white robed players who had a Falcon displayed proudly on their chest. The Magpies on the other hand, were sporting black and white robes with a magpie on the front and back.

"Is that normal?" Harry asked Draco, gesturing at the players. "All their dæmons are birds."

Each dæmon was circling just above the group of players, aside from a kestrel which was hovering just above one of the Falcon's heads.

"Yeah, only the best players have birds," Draco said. "They can't fly high enough or fast enough otherwise."

"So it that why they're called the Falcons and the Magpies?" Harry asked.
"Most Quidditch teams are named after dæmons," Draco said.

And then the referee blew her whistle.

The crowd erupted as both players and dæmons were off. The commentator rattling off the players names in quick succession as the quaffle moved at lightening speed.

The sheer number of things to keep track of was like nothing Harry had seen. The Hogwarts games had been fairly straight forward to watch in comparison. Now, the dæmons were playing a game of their own. Fourteen birds were soaring through the sky, and they were all deadly fast and targeting each other from the second the whistle had blown.

The beaters were just as quick, hammering the bludgers towards the players while also aiming for the dæmons.

"Is that allowed?" Harry said as a Falcon's beater collided with someone else's dæmon.

"Half second rule," Draco said as he pointed at the corresponding player.

From the moment their dæmon had been in contact with another human, one of the Magpie's had gone into a brief free-fall.

"But that's not right-" Harry said, automatically reaching for Tom's hand. It was forbidden, it was just wrong. No one should touch another person's dæmon. Accidentally was bad enough, let alone intentionally.

"It's one of the old traditions," Adara squeaked. "When the sport first started it was brutal, each team for themselves. You should hear the Falcon's motto."

"They've never done that at Hogwarts," Tom said, watching the players with cautious eyes.

"Course not," Draco added as Adara swapped shoulders to see the match better. "Professional Quidditch match's are the only exception, the only time it's seen as acceptable. Some teams don't do it though, it just depends on what lengths they're willing to go to win."

"But why would they want to play?" Harry asked. "That's awful."

"Well that's the thing, half of the game is spent trying to score and the other making sure your dæmon isn't vulnerable. It makes it way more exciting."
"Dangerous more like," Tom said, as the Falcon's chaser dived around the Magpie's keeper to score a goal.

"Well the best dæmons don't get caught," Draco said. "See the swallow, she's never been touched to date."

Harry followed Draco's finger to just catch the quickest of blurs.

"Whose dæmon-" Harry started only to be drowned out by the roar of the crowd.

"Randolph Keitch, he's the Falcon's seeker," Draco answered, pointing to a player circling high above the crowd. "Lennox Campbell is the Magpie's, he's got the dove."

It seemed that the Magpie's weren't very happy at the Falcon's beater, as a couple of their dæmons retaliated. A blacbird and a hawk dived straight towards a large eagle.

"Basil Horton," Draco added above the roar of the crowd. "He's one of the best beaters the Falcon's have had. His eagle is one to watch."

The eagle had her claws out as she twisted upwards, narrowly missing the attack.

Occasionally, the dæmons would fly alongside their humans, knocking the quaffle back and forth and gripping it in their claws, but for the most part they kept separate. Out of danger and safe from the players touch.

Suddenly, the Magpie's seeker dived straight down.

In response Keitch spun around, swallow synchronised by his side in an instant. But Campbell was ahead, arm outstretched just about to enclose around a small golden ball.

Harry couldn't believe it and neither could the crowd as cheers and boo's erupted around the stadium. Surely, the match couldn't be over already.

And then Campbell stopped as quickly as he'd started, broom spinning wildly out of control as the snitch narrowly missed his grip.

"What happened?" Adara squeaked, dancing around on Draco's shoulder.

"Look, there," Harry pointed.

Horton's dæmon had it's claws tight around the Campbell's small dove.

"See, I told you. Plus anything goes between dæmons," Draco cheered.

"Look out!" Harry said.

But it was too late, as the eagle let go of the dove as quickly as they had grabbed it. A bludger came thundering towards the dove catching it straight on.

Campbell fell, tumbling out of the sky as the crowd screamed.

"I told you the beaters were ruthless," Draco beamed.

"And you still want to try-out for the Gryffindor team?" Tom said, nudging Harry.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Draco cut in. "You've seen the school matches, the team would probably get disqualified if they did any of that. Plus barely any of the players at school have birds for dæmons. They can't do half the stuff the professionals can."

Tom shot Draco a very cold look at this which made Adara shift behind Draco's neck.

Back on the pitch, a couple of witches and wizards were hovering on broomstick's, all dressed in green as they attended to Campbell and his dove.

The referee had her whistle in hand as the players waited, occasionally dodging the odd rogue bludger.

Campbell though looked like he was coming round. His dove hopped into his arms as he stumbled up.

"He doesn't look very good," Harry said.

The seeker was bleeding heavily from his head as one of the witches dressed in green waved her wand, bandage flying round his head.

"He'll be okay," Draco said. "The best accidents always happen when the snitch appears. That's when the seekers dæmons are most targeted."

Sure enough, Campbell was climbing onto his broom, but this time his dove was perched on his shoulder and she didn't look keen to take flight again.

The referee seemed satisfied though, as at a single caw from her gull she put the whistle to her lips.

Campbell kicked off from the ground, one hand steadying his dæmon as claws gripped his robes.

The snitch though had vanished.

The chasers were straight back into the game, with the quaffle rocketing through the air.

"The Magpie's will need to catch the snitch soon," Draco said. "Campbell doesn't look like he'll last much longer and they're falling behind on points."

Harry looked up to see Campbell swerving slightly. He was now flying high above the other players keeping away from any unnecessary harm. Aside from watching the bludgers, his eyes were searching feverishly for the snitch.

"Campbell has a great eye, even with a head injury" Draco explained. "It's still easier for Keitch to tail him then look himself."

And Draco was certainly right. It wasn't long when Campbell dived suddenly, Keitch hot on his heels.

Campbell's dove pushed off from his shoulder in one last burst of energy as she dived towards Keitch's swallow.

The seekers were basically neck and neck as dæmon's soared around each other, beaks and claws clashing.

Adara was perched on the edge of the box, as Draco, Harry and Tom watched and the commentator screamed the current score and that the snitch was everything to win.

"No!" Draco called. "Campbell has got it!"

"No he hasn't!" Harry said.

Keitch spun upwards suddenly, fist curled tight above his head. The golden snitch clutched firmly in his palm.

Harry sunk onto his bed, legs aching but beaming from ear to ear. He'd never had a day like it. They'd even gone out to a fancy wizarding restaurant after the match which had been nearly as impressive as the feasts at Hogwarts.

Harry's eyes were already half shut, but he didn't want to go to sleep. Harry wasn't ready to sink into his nightmares just yet.

The clock started to chime, and Harry eyes blinked open as the bed dipped.

Tom was sitting crossed leg with his hand held out in front of him.

"Happy Birthday," Tom said and he pressed something firmly into Harry's palm.

Harry pulled himself up, frowning at the small object.

"I read up on runes a little," Tom said as Harry flipped it over with his thumb. "We're not allowed to use magic outside of school after all, so I didn't know what else to do."

Harry stared at it, throat drying. It was a black stone and it had a symbol carved deep into the back of it.

"We've never done birthday presents."

Tom shifted as he glanced at Harry.

"I know, but it's said to act as a beacon for lost dæmons. I thought it might help."

Harry looked back to the stone, fingers tracing over its pattern as he tried to ignore his lingering dread.

"Does it work?"

Tom's brow was furrowed.

"I hope so, otherwise it's not a very good present is it?"

Lyra had been gone for such a long time, and Harry still hadn't shaken how long Cyrilla had been separated from Neville.

Tom shifted to sit next to him and he seemed to know what Harry was thinking.

"She'll come back," Tom said. "The only reason Lyra hasn't is because she's as stubborn as you."

Harry made to move in protest, but Tom moved his arm out to hold him. Harry could feel Tom's thumping heart.

"She will come back, Harry. She has to."

Harry gripped Tom's hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"Thanks."

Tom mouth twitched into a small smile as Harry moved to lie down properly, his eyes once again already half shut.

Tom's hands began gently weaving through Harry's hair. Harry stiffened, but Tom either didn't notice or didn't care. Maybe Harry's nightmares would be less intense tonight if he was so exhausted.

"Harry?" Tom whispered.

But Harry's consciousness was drifting and he didn't reply straight away.

"What-" Harry mumbled.

Tom exhaled, as his hands stilled in Harry's hair.

"Harry, I'm precious to Voldemort," Tom said. Harry's mouth dried, eyes blinking open.

"If something happens do not be afraid to hurt me to get to him."

"I can't-" Harry started.

"You have to," Tom's voice was so quiet, his heart still racing. "Voldemort will show you no mercy. Do not give him the same luxury. He must believe that I am expendable to you."

Harry rolled over to look at Tom's face shadowed in darkness.

"Tom-"

Harry couldn't have been asleep for long.

There was a loud crack, jolting Harry from the first pleasant dream he'd had in weeks.

Harry scrabbled in the darkness, squinting to see a small figure standing in the centre of their room.
Tom was already sitting up, alert and gripping their wand.

"Dobby-" Harry said.

"Harry Potter must hide now!"

Dobby started banging his head against a bookcase as Harry untangled himself from the covers.

"Dobby, what-"

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the bedroom door.

Dobby spun fast, clicking his fingers with the distinct sound of the door locking.

"Harry Potter must hide," Dobby repeated franticly.

The handle rattled.

"Harry, quick!" Tom said, grabbing him as Harry fumbled for his invisibility cloak. There was fast angry mumblings from the other side of the door now, and Harry could see a beam of light casting shadows into their room.

"Hurry!" Tom hissed.

Harry threw it over them both as they both gripped each other tightly. The second they were hidden, Dobby vanished and the door slammed open.

Three robed masked Death Eaters entered, wands at the ready. There wasn't a single dæmon in sight.

Harry had started to hope Voldemort had forgotten about them.