Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

Harry pulled at his hair, rocking back and forth as he gulped down sharp breaths of air. His ears were strained but all Harry could hear was his own thumping heart as each pulse ricocheted through his broken soul.

Harry slammed his eyes shut, nails digging into his scalp as he tried to block out his clinical prison. But the lingering emptiness remained, as it always did, and Harry was left aching for anything to end the soul destroying monotony. Harry's prison was also void of any stimulus. Light just seemed to radiate in, cold and bright in the absence of any windows and doors and a single bed rested against the wall.

Otherwise, Harry was the one imperfection in an perfectly blank room. It was Harry's skin which was scratched raw, wrapped beneath layers of bandages and Harry's throat which was burnt dry from screaming at the same four white walls.

Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

And still that single thought persisted, cutting deeper than his very existence. It lashed out fiercely, enveloping Harry in darkness as it searched for any soul. Anything to stabilise Harry's growing hunger.

And it wouldn't go away.

Harry was sitting on his bed when the buzzing started.

"Not now," Harry hissed as he pressed his bandaged hands up against his ears as he drew his knees up tight to his chest. Not that it would stop, it would only do that when Harry complied. And he would. Three times a day, every day. Harry wished he could resist but he was just so hungry.

Harry slipped off his bed and placed his back against the far white wall. The buzzing stopped and Harry watched as a door melted into existence on the opposite side of the room. But this time it wasn't the usual healers dressed in their lime green uniforms, nor the auror's with their dæmons lit in such mesmerising light.

It was Dumbledore.

Not that Harry cared, his main focus locked straight onto the wispy form of Fawkes. Harry's first instinct was to take a step forwards. He knew that the dæmon could not remain protected forever. Harry was left taking deep sharp breaths as his emotions shattered in and out of reality.

"Where is he?" Harry's voice was supposed to be firm but it wavered as he choked. The healers wouldn't answer, the auror's wouldn't answer.

Harry would make Dumbledore answer. But Dumbledore's voice remained disgustingly calm.

"I don't know."

"Don't lie!"

Darkness pulsed around Harry, exploding out in a angry burst of energy. It sunk the room into cold despair causing Fawkes to falter as he flashed to transparent gold. And in less than a heart beat, Harry's hunger latched hold, soul craving.

Dumbledore responded quickly as Fawkes flicked back into his white glowing form. He shone so brightly that Harry flinched away.

"Tell me," Harry hissed, and he raised his hand to shield his view from the bird, as if this would somehow numb his pain. "Where is he?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I am sorry, Harry. When you were discovered, you were alone."

Alone.

The word echoed inside his head. Just like it had done for days.

No Lyra, no Tom.

Alone. Completely alone. There was no anchor. Just emptiness. And still Harry's never-ending hunger.

Harry shifted backwards until he sunk down into the corner. His body trembled as his fingers slipped back through his hair. Harry's mind scrambled, desperate for any connection.

But as always there was nothing. Nothing, except the fierce realisation and anger so overwhelming that what remained of Harry nearly splintered then and there.

"You've taken him," Harry snapped.

There was another flash as volatile darkness completed Harry. It was so welcoming and so powerful that even Dumbledore's pathetic attempt at shielding his dæmon would not succeed.

In retaliation, Fawkes sung, his note loud and intrusive causing Harry to recoil as his darkness imploded inwards, leaving him in the same sense of suspension, the same void that he was to remain trapped in.

"Harry, I have done no such thing," Dumbledore's voice was firm and commanding.

Harry's head titled forwards, chin against his chest as his pupils stared coldly upwards at Dumbledore.

"Then why am I locked up?"

The darkness shifted and pulsed as if it was apart of him.

"Harry, I need you to calm down and listen to me," Dumbledore said. "You are in a serious condition right now and every second is crucial. The sooner you realise this then we can cooperate and find the best way forward-"

"I don't want more potions, I'm sick of potions," Harry snapped.

But Dumbledore only raised his wand once more, causing a haze to wash over Harry. Harry sunk back instantly, body numbing as Fawkes shone all the more brighter. Harry wanted to argue, wanted to scream and shout but everything was so much effort. His very being was exhausted, drained and so empty.

Dumbledore seemed to take Harry's silence for his cooperation as he stepped forwards.

"What do you remember?"

Harry shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. He'd asked himself the same question for days.

Why couldn't he remember, Tom was gone. He should remember.

"Can you feel his presence?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

Harry shook his head, his gut lurching. Tom wasn't like Lyra, the distressing hum lingering always. Instead there was just an abyss, the place where Tom should be.

Harry nudged further into his corner as his soul cried out and attempted to realign. But there was no stimulus, not in his prison. The healers had already explained that any connection to the outside was limited, no soul aside from Harry's own could penetrate these titled white walls. And no dæmon was allowed to enter, not unless they were protected by the same charm that Dumbledore had Fawkes under.

Dumbledore sighed heavily this time and he pulled off his half moon glasses to wipe them on his robes.

"Harry, I think you know what has happened."

Harry shut his eyes.

Tom couldn't be, Harry wouldn't admit it. Tom was just missing, and Harry had to find him.

"I will do everything I can to help you." Dumbledore said softly. Fawkes' was singing, but whatever comfort Dumbledore thought this would achieve was useless.

"There is nothing you can do," Harry snapped.

"Your dæmon, Harry. Don't tell me you've forgotten her after only one year?"

Harry stared blankly. Dumbledore's words were alien to him.

"You need Lyra now more than ever," Dumbledore said. "I will do my best to find her and bring her home to you."

Harry didn't want Lyra.

"Go away!" he screamed.

Fawkes song turned to one shrill cry, warning Dumbledore only seconds before. There was a black flash and the darkness lashed out. But it found nothing. Trapped in whatever bubble Dumbledore's spell had achieved. It wilted inwards until it remained lurking and waiting.

And then there was the soul shattering realisation. That one fact that that was solid, that Tom was still lost, that he wasn't coming back.

Harry's fingers scratched across his skin as his desperation consumed his entire being.

Fawkes was still swirling around, white and wispy and Harry eye's flicked back up as he watched through preying eyes. Harry wanted to lunge forwards, but that in itself was terrifying enough.

"What is happening to me?" Harry asked desperately, voice cracking.

Dumbledore's silence was deafening in itself and Harry arms wrapped tight around his body as the cold enveloped him.

And finally, finally Dumbledore relented.

"Have you heard of a creature called a Dementor, Harry?" Dumbledore said quietly.

But Harry only jerked his head as his eyes narrowed.

This is what had constantly been denied to him. Time and time again. Tom had talked about a shadow with fear in his eyes, but still he hadn't said a word. How was this any of this fair.

And Harry gained no satisfaction that Dumbledore was about to tell him. What should have been told to him the second he lost Lyra.

"Dementors are soulless creatures," Dumbledore continued "Soulless creatures with only one true desire."

His voice was tight and constrained, yet Harry could feel no pity for the old man, only clear cut resentment.

Even though Harry knew it was coming, he'd had never feared anything more. And it would be so easy. One slip and Fawkes would be caught, ripped apart and with a bleeding soul for Harry to take.

Harry knew what Dumbledore meant, he'd known it from the start, ever since he'd woken up with Tom no longer by his side.

"Dementors devour dæmons, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry's slammed his eyes shut, bandaged hands pressing hard into his ears. He didn't want to acknowledge it, didn't want to believe what he knew in his heart to be true.

"Dementors are evil creatures, dark and full of decay."

Harry clenched his fists, as a a single tear traced down his cheek.

"Stop it," Harry hissed.

Fawkes gave one shrill cry. Harry felt clammy and his throat was raw as he shook his head uncontrollably.

The fear was so overwhelming.

Tom had known, he'd talked about a shadow with nothing but fear in his eyes. And it was only now, with a horrible realisation that Harry understood his silence.

Harry was literally fighting for the remnants of his soul.

"I'm turning into a Dementor?"

His own voice didn't even sound like his own. It sounded distant, disjointed as Harry shifted in his corner.

But Dumbledore shook his head, and he looked older, more wary than Harry remembered.

"Not until you take another's dæmon, only then can a Dementors transformation be trigged and then there would be no saving your soul," Dumbledore said.

Harry's gut wrenched, sickness rising as his breathing sharpened. And yet still, he couldn't help but look to Fawkes, totally unhinged as he desired for more.

"This is what you wanted before," Harry said deliriously as his vision swayed. "If the guillotine had succeeded, if you'd have taken my soul, it would have ended like this-"

"I had confidence that Lyra would have reached you before the end-"

The darkness thundered, and Harry's head shot up.

"You had no reason to," Harry snarled. The room was pulled into such despair, where no hope could ever survive. Not even through Fawkes' will alone.

Dumbledore actually flinched, his face draining and the fears in his eyes showed. His expression was pained, fresh from whatever trauma flashed before his eyes.

It took a moment for Dumbledore to regain his composure, but still the headmaster looked pale and shaken.

"You haven't turned yet," Dumbledore said. "But if you slip away from us, I'm afraid we won't have any options left."

Harry didn't say anything. He knew what Dumbledore meant by this.

"You would kill me," Harry said coolly.

Fawkes gave one shrill cry.

"Death would be a kindness, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry had wished for death at the start, but now his need for a dæmon was so deep that nothing else mattered.

"Well I can't take any dæmon in here, can I?" Harry hissed. "No connection can penetrate, that's why Fawkes is with you? If he leaves, you'll be just like me. Severed."

Dumbledore chose to ignore this comment.

"You need to hold your resolve, Harry. As soon as we have located Lyra, I'm sure you can make a full recovery."

Harry glared at this, expression fierce. There was no coming back from this, even if the Ministry managed to find Lyra, he still wouldn't have Tom.

Dumbledore however, seemed to have nothing else to say as he flicked his wand, Fawkes soaring back towards him.

Harry scrambled up, urgency surging.

"You can't leave me here-" but sound barely came out, as Harry's voice died in his throat.

Not again. Completely alone.

The auror's and healers never stayed long either. Their dæmons couldn't survive, even in their protected states. Not when Harry was watching, waiting. His hunger scratching deep, scaring straight into Harry as he tried to find a soul to anchor onto.

But Dumbledore only paused, head bowed low, as Fawkes cooed softly.

"I'm sorry, Harry. St Mungo's is the safest place for you right now."

Harry felt more like a prisoner, an experiment, than a patient.

Harry snarled, darkness lashing out. But this didn't stop Dumbledore from stepping out of the door, as it melted back to a hard smooth surface.

And Harry was left with simmering resentment and a hollow disappointment as he watched Fawkes leave.

He was still hungry.

Harry trembled as he fell to his knees, his head slipped into his hands. But nothing would satisfy his itch, his desire for completeness. He curled up on the cold titled floor, hot tears spilling down his face.

Harry only wanted Tom.

The room was buzzing again.

Harry lay motionless, staring up at the blank ceiling. His head was still fuzzy, sluggish from the last bout of potions he'd been given. Harry rolled over, vision swimming as his bandaged hands covered his ears.

"Tom, make it stop," Harry whispered.

But the buzzing continued. Loud and intrusive.

"Tom, please-"

The healers had already come and gone, and Harry had no desire to humour anyone else, not now. Yet, Harry couldn't resist, not when the opportunity to take a dæmon was still possible.

Maybe this time, Harry would take what he was owed.

Harry staggered forwards, slipping off his bed in a mess of covers. He hated this routine, but Scrimgeour had been adamant, every since the first incident in which Harry had proven himself capable.

Harry shivered at the memory, which was so worse now he knew. If Moody hadn't stopped him, maybe he'd already have turned into a Dementor already.

Harry pressed his back against the wall, slipping down it slightly as his knees buckled. The buzzing stopped.

Harry watched, lump tight in his throat as the door melted into place. Four dæmons entered, so bright that the darkness withdrew, repelling Harry's very existence.

"Don't move, Potter," Scrimgeour gestured with his wand as Nala swirled just out of reach.

Harry stayed obediently still, eyes narrowing as he glared at the auror. The surrounding dæmons, a bear, a fox, a lynx were also protected, but they were each a potential target.

"Are you going to kill me yet?" Harry asked bitterly.

No one answered, and Harry was sure the dæmons would have twitched away had it not been for the spells they were under. Scrimgeour however only turned away and nodded his head sharply.

And then another auror entered, but this time they had their wand pointed at something else entirely.

A large object, nearly as tall as the room itself was being floated into Harry's room. It was rounded slightly at the top, yet that was the only defining feature as it was draped in a heavy black cloth.

Not that Harry cared, he was more interested in the new dæmon, a small bird which flicked around.

"Sir?" the auror said, waiting for Scrimgeour to give the word. And Scrimgeour did, with another sharp nod of his head as the cloth lifted.

Harry sucked in a single shallowed breath at the sight, eyes drawn at once away from the dæmon to a large familiar ornate mirror.

This wasn't possible.

Harry stood slowly, hands steadying himself against the wall as his heart pounded. He was perfectly aware that four wands locked straight on him, but they didn't protest as Harry took a shaky step forwards.

His desire for a dæmon was strong, and even now Harry thirsted to take one for himself. The auror's must have been aware, that's why they were here. Harry could see anything in the mirror. Anything at all. Everything had changed.

But Harry knew in his heart, there was only one reflection the mirror of erised would show him. And this was the one reflection that would complete him.

Harry was trembling as he came to a halt, only a metre a way as the mirror delivered his deepest desire.

Harry choked, as his heart swelled.

Tom was there. And Lyra, who Harry had not seen clearly since his last encounter with the mirror.

Harry pressed his shaking fingers up against the glass, but Tom remained still, standing not two feet away as his eyes crinkled and his mouth split into a grin. Lyra was perched on his shoulder, peering back at Harry with such wide curious eyes.

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was like he was back in his nightmare, only this time, Tom and Lyra were trapped behind hard cold glass.

Tom was still smiling, and Harry found his fingers tracing over the surface. Harry's own reflection responded in turn, hand moving into Tom's own to grip it tightly. Harry's throat tightened as the pit in his stomach sunk deeper.

Harry was whole, yet it felt wrong to feel such sadness. He couldn't touch either Tom or Lyra and it was almost a sick jealousy that Harry watched his reflection stand with them both.

All those moments wasted being distant from Tom. All those times where Harry had him completely, yet had pushed him away.

Harry would do anything to have him back.

Tom had done everything to keep them together. And he'd done the right thing. Sacrificed Harry's very being just to hang onto their connection, their lifeline to each other. Tom put Harry in the guillotine, so they would never have the risk of being separated again.

It burned Harry's stomach. He would have Tom place him in the guillotine a thousands times over than actually have their separation happen. The silver blade was nothing in comparison to Harry's torment, to the terror he was living through day after day.

Tom would know what to do. If it had been Harry who was lost, Tom would know how to find him again. And Tom would stop at nothing, would break bones if he had to find Harry again.

Harry couldn't even make it past the auror's.

Lyra yawned, satisfied as her small tail curled around Tom's neck. Harry's reflection responded again, this time moving his free hand to stroke through her fur.

Lyra had known this would happen, at least on some subconscious level. She had left to protect his and Tom's bond. She'd known that without her, the ministry would never have been able to remove Tom, not without sacrificing Harry. She'd tried to protect Tom all this time.

Harry had been confused, hurt when she hadn't returned, but if Lyra still believed she was protecting Tom, how would she know when she could ever come back, if at all. How could Harry blame her.

Tom and Lyra were both waiting to be found and Harry was left staring numbly at their mere shadows, so empty compared to the real things.

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Scrimgeour give a single order as the auror's dropped their wands.

"You are not tempted by my dæmon?" Scrimgeour asked gruffly.

Harry's eyes flicked to Nala. She was no longer floating, and her fur had returned to the familiar transparent ginger fur as she no longer shone bright white. Harry's gaze moved back to the mirror.

He shook his head.

Harry's hunger, his desire to consume another dæmon had vanished entirely, so much so that Harry hadn't even noticed Nala change. But in return, horrible realisation was coursing through Harry, shaking him to the core.

"You should have killed me," Harry whispered, eyes locked on his perfect reflection.

Harry was a monster. To think that he had the capability, the drive to take another dæmon was horrific and nothing would make it okay.

A healer, who Harry hadn't noticed enter, approached hesitantly, a small pig squeaking nervously by their heels.

"Mr Potter, if you could hold out your arm please?" he said.

And for the first time, Harry didn't fight. Instead Harry only felt sick to the stomach. How was this fair, how could he go on like this.

Harry couldn't remain bound to the mirror, craving what was hidden beneath the glass. Not forever. Not when his heart ached for his real soul. For Tom.

Harry needed to get out.

"I want to go back to school," Harry said quietly, just loud enough that everyone could hear him.

The auror's shifted at this, dæmon's retreating despite the lack of darkness. Even Scrimgeour looked alarmed at this statement as Nala curled around his leg.

"There's an inquiry going on," Harry continued, his voice gaining confidence as Tom's head tilted to the side, eyes intense. Harry now understood the true consequences of the ministries actions from when they had first placed him in the guillotine, Harry knew the true outrage he could cause. "I imagine the Minister wants this to remain quiet, and he can't keep me here forever-"

Tom's smile flicked into a smirk as he nodded his head once.

Behind the other side of the hard white wall, a rather pale Minister for Magic was listening as his bulldog dæmon pined by his side.

"Cornelius-" Dumbledore started. "Harry needs to stay in St Mungo's-"

"The school governors have been asking a lot of awkward questions," Fudge said as he wrung his hands together. "And the prophet, if they knew that Potter is demented-"

Fudge trailed off, as he pulled off his hat and spun it nervously in his grip. Dumbledore however shook his head, blue eyes dim.

"I do not believe Harry is safe at Hogwarts. Whoever did this could not have been a student," Dumbledore said.

"You don't really think-" Fudge spluttered as his dæmon barked.

"Yes, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "I think Lord Voldemort has taken back his soul."