Draco stretched back and rested his arms behind his head as he smirked at Ron.
"What was the score again, 120 to 230?"
Ron wrinkled his nose.
"That's unfair. We didn't have a seeker, plus your beaters were playing dirty."
Draco smirk widened.
"All beaters play dirty, Weasley. Some are just better than others."
Ron's face brightened to match his hair.
"You're just annoyed that Fred nearly had you off your broom-"
Hermione threw down her copy of the Daily Prophet and crumpled it against her knees while Ramiron, who was hiding in her jumper, peaked out cautiously as she glared at the two of them.
"Would you two shut up about Quidditch. It is not important," she snapped.
Draco and Ron both looked like she'd slapped them, but neither Adara or Sephronia seemed to share their outrage, if anything Sephronia sunk back into Ron's lap with the smallest of whimpers.
"Not important!" Ron started, "Hermione, Slytherin can't win the Quidditch cup again-"
"Gryfindor wouldn't have won anyway-"
But they both fell silent at Hermione's piercing glare.
"We can assure those concerned that Mr Potter's safety is our top most priority, and that appropriate safeguards have been put in place regarding his current condition. The Ministry have agreed a strict set of precautions-"
"They're not joking," Draco interrupted again. "My father had to pull all kinds of strings. The school governors really weren't happy when they found out what had happened-"
"Mr Potter's whereabouts are strictly confidential," Hermione cleared her throat loudly, cutting off Draco as she continued to read. "If anyone locates a lost dæmon, then they are urged to contact the ministry immediately."
Hermione set the paper back down as her brow creased.
"It's all a bit serious. I mean, the Ministry are going to an awful lot of trouble and this seems a bit excessive-"
"Have you ever seen a dementor?" Draco asked as he wrapped his arms tightly around an unsettled Adara.
Hermione opened her mouth, before she clamped it tightly shut. She shook her head fiercely, tears welling in her eyes as she looked to the silent occupant in the room. Ramiron shuffled further into her jumper.
Even Adara and Sephronia couldn't help but shift their focus to the one thing they were desperately trying to ignore.
"I've only read about them," Hermione said numbly.
But Draco showed no victory in this as his expression darkened.
"So you have no idea what they are capable of? How they are wrong in every sense of what is possible?" Draco retorted.
Hermione jumped up at this, tears spilling slowly down her face as Ramiron squirmed in her hold.
"But it's not right for the Ministry to keep Harry locked up-"
"Do you see Harry complaining?" Draco said, head jerking to the other side of the tall shimmering wall which cut across the room.
"But-"
Hermione stood teetering, distress so very clearly reflected in her dæmon as two dull green eyes flicked away from the large ornate mirror which towered over the room.
"I agreed to it, Hermione," Harry said flatly.
Ramiron, Sephronia and Adara flinched, as Harry's attention skimmed across them from behind his shimmering prison.
"It's not that I'm not glad you're back, Harry," Hermione said, voice wavering. "But the inquiry was meant to be totally independent, if you're not going to tell the truth-"
Harry didn't even see fit to answer this. Instead he fixed his gaze back firmly on Tom and Lyra in the depths of the mirror.
"Yeah, fine," Draco scoffed. "Just leave Harry locked up in St. Mungo's then."
"But the inquiry-" Hermione started as Ramiron shuffled.
"Will change nothing now Harry is soulless," Draco said coldly. "The Ministry could lock him up forever and no one would blink an eye."
Ron who'd been slightly preoccupied with Sephronia's continued distress, glanced back up at this to glare at Draco.
"You never actually said if you'd ever seen one?" Ron said.
Draco shrugged, looking far too nonchalant considering Adara was curled up against his chest.
"Once, when my father took me into the Ministry," Draco said.
Harry's head snapped up causing all three dæmons to flinch again.
"They keep dementors at the ministry?"
Draco nodded.
"Dementors are very good at keeping dæmons subdued, the Ministry use them to guard prisoners. Azkaban is full of them."
Even though the mirror was suppressing Harry's hunger, he could never forget his need, the uncontrollable want to take a dæmon for his own. Harry shivered, the temptation all too fresh.
"How is that possible?" Harry said, throat tight. "Why don't the dementors feed on them?"
Hermione blanched causing Ramiron to let out a small squeal.
"Well I don't think it's that graphic," Draco continued as he rolled his eyes. "They just sort of suck them in I think."
Hermione tugged Ramiron closer in her arms as Ron ran his fingers through Sephronia's fur.
"Don't say that!"
"Why not? It's true, isn't it?" Draco said as Adara buried herself in his grip. "Anyway, a dementor is relatively stable, they've already devoured a dæmon. It's just a person without their dæmon is something else entirely which is why you're lucky they let you come back to school in the first place."
"Well I guess it doesn't matter for long," Ron said sullenly. "They're still unsure about whether to keep the school open."
Harry felt something hard slam into the pit of his stomach as desperate panic descended. No one had mentioned that. He looked to Draco in hope that he'd deny it, but the Slytherin only confirmed his fears with a single shrug.
"They're going to shut Hogwarts? Why? They can't do that!" Harry said.
"It's certainly being considered, imagine if you'd have died or turned-" Hermione trailed off before clearing her throat. "Everyone is scared, Harry. First there was the death of Zoe Westwark and her rooster, and then you disappear without any warning and everyone assumed you'd been arrested."
"Arrested?" Harry swallowed.
"Everyone thought Tom had done it," Ron shrugged. "Only then the ministry release a statement saying it was Tom who'd been attacked-"
Harry looked blankly between the three of them, before he enviably had to flick his eyes back to the mirrors perfect reflection.
"Don't you see, Harry?" Hermione said as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Who would attack Tom? That's basically suicide, it would have to be something really powerful and dark."
There was a horrible blanket silence at this. Harry shook his head, as he scrunched his eyes closed momentarily. Tom had to be okay.
"To be fair, most people don't know that Tom isn't the only part of the Dark Lord," Draco said lightly. "If they thought taking him out wouldn't have any further repercussions."
Every pair of eyes shot to Draco at this. Even Harry's eyes snapped back open and he glanced away from the mirror briefly.
"What?" Draco said with a finger jabbing towards Harry as his expression soured. "You think I didn't find out about the Dark Lord after I helped you and Tom escape from my home. My father was furious with me!"
"That was Tom's idea," Harry said numbly.
Draco crossed his arms as Adara shifted onto his shoulder. She curled her tail tightly around Draco's neck.
"My father made it very clear about how much I messed up," Draco said.
"Ah ha," Ron said triumphantly, causing Sephronia to jump. "So your dad is a Death Eater-"
But Draco looked less than impressed, even Adara lifted her head to snarl at Sephronia.
"You're friends with Harry," Draco said coldly. "And I'm pretty sure him and Tom know. Plus the Death Eaters are hardly the enemy at the moment."
"They are-" Ron started furiously.
"Really? So what's worse?" Draco said coldly. "Killing someone or separating them from their dæmon?"
Ron didn't answer, he didn't need to as he glanced awkwardly at Harry.
"Draco has a good point, Ron," Hermione said. "Despite the Death Eaters attacking the ministry last year, the outrage was directed towards the Ministry."
Ron crossed his arms, still furious with Draco.
"What about muggleborns then?" Ron said suddenly. "Death Eaters persecute them and they have dæmons."
Draco only smiled thinly, eyes flicking in destain to Hermione before they landed on Ramiron.
"That's because Muggleborns don't make any sense," Draco said.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked confused.
Strangely enough it was Hermione who answered, and her voice was oddly quiet.
"It's because Muggles don't have dæmons," she said.
"Just because you can't see a dæmon, doesn't mean they're not there," Harry said, thinking back to Lyra.
"Well usually I would agree with you," Hermione said. "But Dementors don't feed on muggles, which implies they don't have souls."
There was more silence at this, and Harry genuinely didn't know what to say. Hermione stroked Ramiron gently, as her eyes threatening more tears.
"This is why muggleborns are seen as something else entirely. How did Ramiron come to be? I'm was never supposed to have a soul."
"He's a corruption," Draco said matter of factly.
Ron drew his wand furiously and even Sephronia showed some life as she barked loudly. Even Hermione seemed taken aback at the statement.
"Take that back," Ron snapped.
But Draco didn't seen phased.
"He's a dæmon that was never meant to be," Draco said. "It's unnatural. You can always tell a corrupted dæmon from a pure dæmon."
"That's nonsense," Ron hissed, "It's never been proven. A dæmon is a dæmon regardless."
But that wasn't true. Harry's stomach churned as he shook his head.
"Sephronia said Tom was wrong," Harry interrupted quietly. "When we first met on the Hogwarts Express."
Ron's expression faltered and he seemed lost for words for a moment.
Sephronia didn't like the attention Harry was giving her as she buried her head into Ron's lap.
"I'm not the only one," Sephronia squeaked. "Ramiron thinks it too."
"Don't bring me into this," Ramiron hissed.
"Of course he would be different," Adara snarled, as she lifted her head from Draco's shoulder. "He's the Dark Lord, he is more than a dæmon."
"So you all feel it?" Harry's said as his heart twisted.
None of them wanted to answer and that was confirmation enough.
What was wrong with Tom.
But Tom's reflection offered Harry no further comfort as he remained painfully mute.
Harry had more questions, but fortunately for Ramiron, Sephronia and Adara they were spared any attention as there was a sudden sharp knock on the door. A heavy bolt slide open and an auror, dressed in plain robes appeared.
"That's an hour," he said gruffly, while his dæmon barely peered into the room.
Draco stood and straightened down his robes as Adara all but leapt onto the floor and out of the door.
"I'll speak to my father again," Draco said. "If anyone took Tom, he'll be the first to hear of it."
Harry nodded, because he couldn't find his voice.
"See you later," Ron said with a sad smile as Sephronia also darted out of the room.
"We'll keep looking," Hermione assured Harry, as Ramiron squirmed in her jumper. "There's bound to be some clue as to where Tom is."
It was the same prison, but with one fundamental difference. Harry had homework.
Not that Harry had his wand, it was still lost with Tom and the Ministry hadn't seen him fit enough to have another one.
So Harry was left with numerous rolls of parchments to complete for his professors. Only Harry was currently glaring at his scribbles that were still a foot short of a completed essay. Tom had always been good at words and even the most complicated theories seemed so simple.
Not that any of it mattered. Everything was pointless, none of this would help Harry actually find Tom again.
Harry crumpled up the parchment, all but hurling it towards the mirror as he stared blankly at its surface.
"Where are you?" Harry started, voice breaking as his fists curled up tightly. But Tom offered him no answer. Instead, the mirror remained tauntingly unchanged, unable to show Harry Tom's location.
Harry stood and approached the mirror, eyes narrowing as it only gloated what Harry could not touch.
"Where are you?" Harry repeated harder this time, staring into the mirrors depths, but no image would take away Harry's completeness, the perfect soul which Harry would always desire. Harry slammed his fist into the glass, wishing it would shatter, and that Tom and Lyra would be released from its hold.
Only the mirror held firm as Harry's own reflection entwined his hand back into Tom's. Harry kicked its base, resentment and jealously simmering.
It wasn't fair.
The door clicked open and Harry whipped around, senses spiralling as Einaris slipped in through the opening. As expected Professor McGonagall followed and she stepped forwards to place a set of textbooks on the table. The shimmering shield moved around it, absorbing them onto Harry's side of the room.
But Harry was left, hunger blurring as he all but threw his gaze back to what he so desperately ached for.
"If you have read chapters seven through to nine," Professor McGonagall started, oblivious to Harry's torment. "We'll move onto the theory of turning white rabbits into slippers."
Einaris, just like Ramiron, Sephronia and Adara tucked himself into a small ball in the corner. His cat tail flicked as his large wide rimmed eyes watched Harry with fear.
"Yes, Professor," Harry muttered.
McGonagall nodded, but her lips were pressed tightly thin as her eyes shone with a horrible pity.
The most boring of Harry's lessons was probably Defence with Professor Lockhart. Lockhart continued to spend many an hour retelling his adventures while Minnie seemed less than enthused as she squashed herself into the bottom of Lockhart's trouser leg.
"Professor, is there anything capable of taking a dæmon? That's not a dementor, I mean," Harry interrupted when Lockhart finished telling him how he'd last fought off a ghoul.
Lockhart paused and he blinked a couple of times, his pristine smile slipping.
"Harry, I specialise in Defence Against the Dark Arts, not well, the Dark Arts."
Harry frowned, disappointment growing.
"But you must have come across something-"
"Well of course I have, Harry," Lockhart stumbled, before he suddenly pulled out a very fancy golden watch.
"But look at the time, I'm terribly sorry, Harry," Lockhart flashed him a pathetic smile as Minnie moved to scratch at the locked door. "I have an appointment with a very old friend this evening, I saved him from a werewolf back in the day, and I've had these plans for months-"
Lockhart was out the door before Harry could get another word in.
And Snape wasn't much better. In fact, he was the complete opposite as he barely spoke to Harry at all.
He'd walk in, give Harry a fresh piece of text to read and a number of questions to answer as he'd critique the last set of answers Harry had given him.
This seemed to be Snape's favourite part, as he'd sneer at Harry's attempts, while Laraine would watch with her wide bat eyes from atop of the door.
"It seems that your vague competency at potions was clearly due to taking advantage of Mr Riddle's knowledge," Snape sneered.
Harry jerked his hand at this, causing ink to splatter across his attempt to describe a swelling solution.
Harry needed to find Tom and soon.
"By the sound of it, Flint's as obsessed with Wood at winning the Quidditch cup," Ron said when Harry questioned Draco's absence the following week. "Either that or Adara can't cope."
Sephronia perked up at this, before she ducked back down, ears fattening and tale between her legs as Harry looked at her.
"To be honest, it's probably better Malfoy's not here," Hermione said as Ramiron braved peeking out his usual spot in her jumper.
Harry perked up, hope erupting.
"Did you find anything?" Harry asked hurriedly.
Hermione nodded and Harry's heart swelled as she approached the table sitting in the centre of the room. She placed a red covered book which had a picture of four or five animals on the front, along with an elegantly written title.
Of Dæmons, Demons and Daimons
"It's the book Tom asked me to get out the Restricted Section of the library weeks back," Hermione said. "I had to go through your things to find it, Tom had it well hidden."
"It's just about Daemons though," Ron said. "Why would it be in the restricted section?"
"Well it has some really interesting spells that affect dæmons, but then it also touches upon Splintering, Shape-Shifting and Dementors," Hermione said.
Harry frowned.
"What are splintering and shape shifting?"
Surprisingly it was Ramiron who answered, but he clearly regretted it as Harry looked at him.
"Splintering is what happens as a result of Pulling, like when you lost your dæmon. Shape-Shifting is what Cyrilla can do."
"Neville's dæmon?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded.
Harry picked up the book and flicked through the first through pages.
"I don't know if it means anything," Hermione said. "But any information, even if its small, has to help, right?"
Tom had highlighted a number of paragraphs, including a section on Dementors and something which touched upon summoning Demons. It was the last section however, which had Harry stopping with a frown.
Stealing Dæmons.
But it was Tom's neat scribble which really turned Harry's stomach.
Just below he'd scribed one name.
Riddle
Blood pounded in his ears. Harry had almost forgotten the other piece of Voldemort's soul. But what did Tom mean.
Riddle was a dæmon, but this made no sense. He couldn't steal a dæmon, so why had Tom written Riddle's name down.
"Harry-"
Harry jerked his head up making Ramiron and Sephronia cower.
"I-what?"
"I was just saying we spoke to Ginny about the morning before Tom went missing. Well apparently, Ginny saw you when you when you were also leaving detention," Ron said.
Harry only stared blankly at them both. Everything had been so confusing, and he'd tried so hard to remember.
Harry shook his head, totally lost.
"Dumbledore didn't say," he answered lamely.
Ron gave Harry a sheepish grimace which made his stomach do an odd sort of somersault.
"Well Ginny didn't tell the aurors, I think she was scared she'd get in trouble," Ron said. "Anyway, she was just heading back to the dormitory when she overheard you and Tom. Apparently you and Tom had been fighting," Ron finished awkwardly.
A hollow lump was forming in Harry's throat.
"We were fighting?"
Ron shrugged.
"Apparently Tom was furious with you, but Ginny doesn't know why."
"I-" Harry looked back to the mirror.
Tom was standing there smiling weakly at him with Lyra once again perched happily on his shoulder. Tom slipped his hand into Harry's reflections, but this offered Harry no real warmth.
"Ginny didn't see anything else?" Harry asked numbly.
"Not really," Ron said. "She was pretty shook up about the whole thing when she had her detention."
Harry didn't want to admit it, but it hurt. What had gone so wrong. And then the doubt, growing with every panicked thought.
Surely not. They'd already been through this.
"Harry, are you okay-"
But Harry's hands clasped over his ears, drowning out Ron and Hermione's concerns. Tom wouldn't leave him, Harry knew it in his heart.
But Lyra had.
The doubt creeping in and it was suffocating, and even the mirror did little to settle the aching pain seeping through Harry.
Tom would never leave. Not by choice.
Everything was different now, Tom had chosen Harry, hadn't he? Voldemort had already played that game and Tom had proved that he would do anything to keep them together.
Why couldn't Harry remember.
"Tom wouldn't leave you, Harry."
Harry blinked, and his eyes came to focus on Hermione's sad expression. Harry hadn't realised he had spoken out loud.
"I know that, it's just-" but Harry didn't have any further words. Instead, he looked back to Ron and Hermione, desperate for some small amount of hope.
"Anything else?" Harry asked, chest tight as his voice cracked.
Now Hermione beamed, catching Harry completely off guard. She'd clearly been saving the best thing for last as she rummaged around in her school bag once more.
Ron however didn't look as excited as he frowned at Hermione.
"I'm still not convinced it's Toms. You Know Who is the last person I'd expect to keep a diary."
"I'm sorry?" Harry blinked.
Hermione looked unconcerned.
"I found this in the library, tucked in with a load of textbooks. Tom must have left it there before-"
Hermione trailed off and placed a small black book on the table in the centre. The shimmering wall curved around it, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath as he stared at the leather book, with smart lettering stamped on its front.
T M Riddle
But Harry didn't move to take it. In fact he looked quite reluctant to touch it.
"Harry," Hermione expression faltering as she waited expectantly.
Harry remained deadly still as his stomach did a horrible sort of somersault.
Ramiron squeaked and he tucked himself under Hermione's arm.
"Is everything okay?"
Harry shook his head.
Sephronia too was cowering, distraught at whatever Harry was projecting.
"Tom didn't have a diary," Harry said quietly.
"See, I told you," Ron said with a nod towards Hermione as he knelt down to scratch Sephronia behind her ears. "I mean what sort of Dark Lord keeps a diary? It doesn't really suit the evil image?"
"I think it suits Tom perfectly," Hermione said matter of factly.
Ron rolled his eyes.
"It's completely blank," he said. "Maybe it was just an unwanted gift or something?"
Harry's gaze sharpened.
"It's blank?"
"Not that we were going to read it of course," Hermione hurried, holding out her hands. "But Tom must have it protected, you know, so only he can unlock it. You might not even have known he had it-"
"Tom didn't have a diary," Harry repeated coldly.
Hermione's eyes widened as Ramiron panicked. He dived from his cover to skirt around her heels. Hermione opened her mouth as if to argue, but at Ramiron's tremor she clamped it shut.
Harry stared at the otter, tail wrapped around Hermione's feet as he did anything but return Harry's stare.
"Well maybe Tom never got a chance to write in it," Sephronia added, as the small terrier dashed out from Ron's arms to stand between Harry and Ramiron.
Whatever Sephronia hoped to achieve, it didn't work as she sank low to the floor, tail tucked between her legs as Harry glared at Hermione.
How dare she assume that Harry didn't know Tom.
"Harry-" Hermione had found her voice. "C-could you stop staring at Ramiron?"
Harry looked up, eyes simmering.
"Y-you're scaring him-" Hermione said as she scooped up a distressed Ramiron.
Harry smiled coldly.
"Good."
The darkness only grew as Ramiron's and Sephronia's animal instincts took hold. That they knew that if wasn't for the mirror Harry would want to hunt them.
"H-Harry, the mirror?" Ron seemed to be suffocating in whatever presence Harry was projecting.
But Harry had no desire for the mirror, not now. Not when there were two dæmons so ready for him to take, and not even the simmering protection which stayed between them could stop him.
And then a flicker.
Harry's attention snapped back to the diary, eyes narrowing as his hunger twisted.
Everything else in the room was suddenly blind to him. The dæmons, the mirror, only the diary with a soul so fresh and ready for Harry to take.
But Harry didn't pick it up. Instead his fingers just brushed across the leather binding as he turned the cover open. Even the slight contact was enough to have Harry's heart racing, as a mixture of both his hunger and longing flared.
And then pain, snapping through his scar as Harry hissed, his fingers clamping to his forehead as he withdrew. Harry all but threw himself back to his reflection as his chest rose and fell with ever sharp breath.
But still that soft touch of leather lingered and the rush which shot through him was a mixture of pure exaltation, something that the mirror had only failed to achieve.
"It feels like him," Harry stated, his voice breaking.
Ron and Hermione were deadly still, both with their backs against the door with their dæmons in their arms. Hermione braved a step forwards.
"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse-"
No diary should be capable, but Harry couldn't pull himself back from the mirror as Tom's silent gaze met his own.
"I-I didn't mean Tom," Harry choked.
The diary lay open, disturbed on whatever page Harry had flicked it too, but it was just like Ron said.
It was blank.
Harry turned the diary, page by page, fingers tracing over its leather spine. The book itself was radiant, brimming with a darkness so soothing and so achingly familiar that with Harry's depravity he only craved for more.
This was Voldemort, and despite Harry's itch to throw the book away and never touch it again, he couldn't help but want to hang onto it forever. Harry placed the diary carefully on his bed covers as he dipped his quill into some ink. He let it hover above the page for a moment.
And then he wrote one word, the only word that mattered.
Tom
Tom's name sank into the page, and Harry was left staring at the same blank page.
"It's not a very good diary," Harry mumbled.
The silence rang around him, just like it had for days. Harry flicked another page and placed the nib of the quill to the page once more. This time Harry held it in place, watching as the black ink absorbed into the page.
The diary hummed, and Harry flexed his fingers backwards at the tingling sensation. There was definitely something there, something Harry desperately longed for, and it wasn't a product of the Mirror of Erised's influence.
And then another name, mostly because Harry hoped he could slip away, melt into the diary's pages and disappear to wherever Tom was lost.
Harry Potter
Only this time Harry shuddered, withdrawing the quill as something electric trickled through him.
It felt right, almost like the mirror, but not quite. It was as if the diary flickered into some sort of life that stole Harry's breath away.
And then someone spoke.
"Harry?"
Harry's soul twisted and he gasped, quill tumbling out of his hand splatting ink over his covers, staining his hands in black.
It was impossible.
Only Harry's brief euphoria came crashing down in a mass of broken glass. The disappointment was soul shattering that Harry failed to hold back the single tear that fell down his face.
It wasn't Tom.
Riddle was standing behind him, on Harry's side of the shimmering light. And Harry was sure his hunger would have flared had it not been for the diary's soothing lull.
Just like the mirror it was like he had Tom but not. A perfect representation of everything Harry craved, only Riddle would never be enough. Riddle's image had been fleeting before, and even now he remained transparent, just like a dæmon.
Harry turned his head down, lump in his throat.
"You're bound to this diary?" Harry said.
But Riddle ignored his question, and his footsteps echoed across the stone floor. The bed dipped and Riddle reached his hand out, before he stopped just inches away.
"Harry, what happened to Tom?"
Harry's heart swelled. Riddle's presence was taunting.
"I lost him."
His voice nearly broke, but Riddle didn't say anything. Harry tilted his head down, chin resting on his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Voldemort will kill me for losing him."
But maybe that was a good thing.
When Riddle spoke, his voice was so soft, and his hands came to rest on the pages of the diary.
"Harry, I need you to write in it."
Harry blinked. Surely Riddle should be furious with him, would kill him even. But Riddle only tilted his head just like Tom used to do.
"If you write, it will link us together. You won't feel empty anymore," Riddle said.
Harry's fingers curled instinctively around the small black book as he pressed it against his chest.
"You mean I'll stop feeling like this?"
Riddle slipped from the bed, crouching down just in front of Harry, hand brushing over his forehead. Riddle didn't make contact though, he was just close enough to sweep Harry's hair away.
"Connect yourself to me and I can help. I can anchor your soul."
It was a horrible longing, the want to just lean straight into Riddle's embrace, but Harry remained just perched on the edge of his bed.
"You'll fade, Harry," Riddle said. "And I can't let that happen to you. You're too important."
Bile rose in Harry's throat and he tightened his grip on the diary. But when he spoke his voice was empty.
"Why are you here?"
An odd look crossed Riddle's face and his expression darkened.
"The Dark Lord is furious," Riddle said, a hard edge to his voice. "He does not take kindly to someone attacking a part of him."
So Voldemort had sent him, Harry figured as much.
"How did you get into the Hogwarts library?" Harry asked numbly.
But Riddle didn't seem to care to answer as he flashed Harry a smile. "It is very fortunate you returned to Hogwarts. I had fears I would not be able to find you in time, before you would be lost."
Here Riddle paused, hands itching forwards but he didn't touch Harry.
"If something happens to you, the Dark Lord all but guarantees the loss of his soul. I can stabilise you and in return assure both your safety and Tom's," Riddle said.
"Voldemort doesn't care about my safety," Harry muttered.
"True," Riddle admitted, eyes suddenly alight. "But the Dark Lord wants your blood and you wouldn't be very useful dead or demented."
"How fortunate," Harry said glumly. "So you're here to take me to him?"
Riddle's mouth twitched at this, but he didn't deny it.
Instead he remained on the floor before Harry as he picked up the ink splattered quill. He held it out.
"Write in it, Harry. We are bound together through the Dark Lord. This will give you strength and let you be whole again."
If only it was that easy.
Harry made to stand, his body trembling as he moved away from Riddle. Riddle in turn anticipated Harry's movements as his cold fingers enclosed gently around Harry's wrist.
"Harry, you can't rely on the mirror."
Harry gasped, nearly falling into Riddle as his heart stopped. It was completeness, so perfect and everything that the mirrors cold hard glass would never be able to give him.
"I-I can't," Harry stumbled, but in turn he could feel Riddle's longing, his own need to connect to something that wasn't the blank pages of a diary.
"I-stop it."
It was so much effort to say no. Riddle's brow furrowed and although he hesitated he let go.
The effect was instant, as Harry leant back against the wall, chest rising and falling sharply as his eyes blinked shut.
"Don't-don't ever do that again," Harry said.
"Harry, I-"
Harry's eyes snapped open and Riddle at least had the decency to stand and take a wary step back. Riddle knew that Harry could claim him, could rip apart Voldemort's fractured soul to take broken and bleeding for himself.
The want was terrifying in itself.
"I know what you're capable of," Harry said, voice wavering. Tom had shown Harry that he was susceptible without Lyra, that Harry's will was so easy to bend. And if Tom had proven himself capable, then Riddle certainly was. And this made Harry so afraid.
Could Riddle manipulate him so easily. Would Harry even be aware of Riddle doing it again and would he be able to resist. Would he walk to Voldemort willingly if Riddle desired it.
"I was just trying to help-" Riddle started cautiously.
"I need to think clearly and I can't do that if you touch me." Harry said as he stumbled towards the mirror.
Tom's perfect reflection smiled back at Harry, his own hand coming to gently stroke Lyra.
At least the mirror cleared Harry's muddy thoughts. Whatever connection he had with Riddle was weak, and nothing could break his deepest desire, not even the hunger of taking a dæmon for his own.
Riddle hadn't moved to follow him, he remained still, unmoving and he hadn't tried to touch Harry again.
"Why don't you look in the mirror?" Harry asked quietly.
For the first time, Riddle's gaze slipped away from Harry. But just like Tom, he didn't look in the mirrors reflection. Instead he leant against the wall.
"I already know what I want," Riddle said. "And the mirror would only be a distraction from achieving my goal."
It was the same answer that Tom had given before and Harry understood it so perfectly this time.
Harry looked back to his reflection, knowing that it wasn't Tom. This Tom was silent, and although he filled the space in Harry's aching heart, it wasn't his Tom.
Harry watched Lyra settle in his reflection's lap, her small head coming to rest on his arm. The twisting knot in Harry's stomach tightened and his throat ran dry.
And then a different question, one Harry had not asked before because he'd been too caught up with Lyra.
"I still don't know what you want," Harry said. "You never said what you are looking for, what do you see in the mirror?"
Riddle was silent for a moment, head tilting as a sad smile graced his lips.
"We have the same goal, Harry" Riddle said. "I am incomplete, just like you."
"I doubt that," Harry said, but even as he said it he didn't believe it. The diary was so empty, so lonely compared to any other connection. Even the lack of response of someone by his side had been so hurtful, so desperately terrifying.
Riddle was here not because Voldemort had commanded it, and not because Riddle wanted Harry. Riddle had already told Harry his intentions months ago when they had first met.
"You're using me to find what you lost?" Harry said quietly.
"Can you blame me?" Riddle said, eyes a lot colder than Harry remembered. Riddle stood, holding the diary out to Harry.
"What I don't understand if why you won't do the same?"
"I-What?" Now Harry spun around, eyes locked on Riddle.
"I can't trust you, I can't rely on you-" Harry started.
"You don't have to trust me, Harry," Riddle said sharply. "And you are failing to understand, I depend on you just as much, if not more. Why are you so afraid of getting closer to achieve your goal? Would you not go to any length to find Tom again? You won't find him if you stay trapped in here."
Harry blushed fiercely, fingers curling into fists.
"You'll use me, I'm not stupid," Harry said. But Riddle had a point, Tom would have gone to any length to find him. He had already done so with the guillotine and he would have done something equally as dangerous to take Harry back.
Riddle sighed, almost like he was disappointed.
"I had your word, Harry."
Harry faulted, his stomach churning. And it was so tempting to give in, but Harry could imagine Tom's desperation, his need to keep Riddle and Harry apart. But Riddle would make him stronger, and Harry would be able to find Tom without being bound to the mirror.
Riddle took a step closer to Harry, and then a smirk.
"It would be a lot easier if you didn't fight me the whole way, I'm not Tom," Riddle said.
A mixture of anger and guilt flared through Harry as his stomach jolted.
"You don't know anything-"
"I watched you both often enough at Malfoy Manor," Riddle said casually. "You weren't exactly getting along."
"It's not like that any more, we got better-" Harry stammered.
Riddle laughed at this and he gestured his hands to the very notably empty room.
Harry flushed, despair rocking through him, but he'd already agreed, there was no backing away now. Harry looked to the diary, held in Riddle's hands, before looking back to the mirror.
Tom was standing forwards just in front of Harry's reflection which had Lyra perched on his shoulder. But Tom didn't say a word and his expression remained in the same warm smile as he remained unable to show anything but Harry's restless desire.
Harry would do anything to have Tom standing before him. And this was his way to find him.
"Fine," Harry said as his fingers grazed the leather cover of the diary.
"What should I write?"
Riddle grinned.
"My son says that Potter recalls nothing, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy bowed low as Chandraki also dipped her head.
Quirrell stood, turban on the floor as red eyes flashed. He was supposed to have his body back by now. Riddle had sworn he'd return to him both his soul and the boy, alive and unharmed.
"Riddle," Voldemort hissed. "What are you planning?"