"Would you just hold still," Tom snapped as he seized a fistful of Harry's shirt. Harry twisted backwards, but he had no retreat from his perch on the bathroom counter.

"Stop it-" Harry started. "Not over my eye."

"Harry, it's better this way," Tom started, but Harry was already tugging at the fresh dressing, unraveling half of Tom's previous efforts in the process. "It makes you look more, well you know-"

Harry paused, his decayed fingers twisted around the bandages as his dead eye roamed over Tom's absence form.

"Human?" Harry said coldly.

It was a testament to Tom that he only shut his eyes, his breath chilled as he stayed perfectly still.

"I was going to say vulnerable," Tom said as he moved deliberately slowly to place another dressing around Harry's decayed arm.

Harry scowled and yanked his arm away.

"Like that's any better."

"Better than the alternative," but there was no smile behind Tom's eyes, instead a steely determination had come over him as he slipped closer so Harry had no where to hide, short of falling in one of the sinks.

Except Tom's hands were shaking, leaving what would have usually been neat little knots as frayed uneven ties as he secured the final dressing back over Harry's head. Harry gripped Tom's hand, but there was nothing he could say that would make their situation better.

"You should get some more sleep," Harry offered instead, but Tom was already shaking his head, his blood shot eyes betraying his exhaustion.

"Scrimgeour will be here soon, we need to be ready-"

"Tom-

"One opportunity," Tom said stiffly. "Anyway, I think that's you ready."

Harry swung his legs around, twisting on top of the counter to locate the bathroom mirror.

All of his decayed flesh was hidden which left him feeling oddly uncomfortable. Only his mouth was clearly visible but that if anything looked worse, his cracked grey lips contrasted against the fresh bandages despite his dead eye being hidden. Not that it changed anything; Harry could still see Lyra's broken link spilling from his empty chest.

Harry sucked in a dry breath, which only made the absence of dæmons more obvious. There was one question that he still had to ask.

"What if the Death Eaters attack the Ministry again?"

If Harry hadn't known any better, he'd have thought that Tom hadn't heard him, for there was no shift in his expression, or even any emotion that Harry could detect.

"Tom?"

"Then you stay near me and let the aurors do their job," Tom said.

"But what if the Wizengamot decide that we can't return to Hogwarts-"

Tom's expression twisted into something fierce.

"Then you stay near me and let the aurors do their job," Tom repeated coolly.

"Right," Harry swallowed thickly. But he could already feel his despair casting out into the room, smothering any hope that Tom would have been clinging too.

Tom lent in so his forehead was resting against Harry's. Tom was breathing deeply and he had his eyes shut.

"Harry, please," Tom whispered. "Just stick with me, no matter what happens-"

"I won't go back there," Harry said. "Anywhere but St Mungos, even Voldemort is better-"

But Tom's eyes were completely shut now, his shoulder's slumped. And for a moment, Harry thought it was because of him that Tom was incapacitated, that the true terror pumping through his warped veins had finally caused Tom to succumb to the despair.

The soft sound of a snore broke Harry's terror as instantly as it had risen. They'd barely had any sleep, Snape had been insistent that Tom's control over Harry was uncompromising, but this had been at the expense of any rest. Harry smiled slightly, his own tiredness non existent as he shook Tom gently by the shoulders.

"Come on," Harry said as encouraged Tom to shuffle out of the bathroom, "We've got about twenty minutes, you've got time for a rest."

Snape was waiting for them just in front of the wrought iron entrance gates, and for the first time he wasn't alone.

Harry made a start forwards and Tom was too tired to protest. Snape's dæmon glinted so beautifully that not even she could hide from up on her perch atop the winged boar statue. But without a wand, short of attempting to climb one of the columns, Harry had no chance of retrieving her.

Instead Harry could only grin up at the bat and her wide eyes that were filled with such a perfect terror.

Snape however, only took one long piercing look at Harry and the thick layer of bandages that Tom had carefully secured before he gave a satisfied nod.

"Here," Snape pressed a fresh bottle of the forbidden potion into Harry's grip, "Drink all of it now."

Harry grasp hold of it eagerly, his own attention pulled away completely from the dæmon.

There was something different about this potion from the previous night; the black liquid still oozed around the top but the quantity of golden flecks was something else to be desired.

Harry was almost giddy as he pressed it to his lips. At once, his mouth burned as the liquid scorched his throat but he relished the pain, because the completeness was nothing compared to last nights poor attempts at replicating the effects of a dæmon.

Tom shuddered, though at the same time he was suddenly breathless, enchanted by whatever Harry was projecting.

"Wow," Tom breathed as he lent into Harry as if he too craved more, needed more.

Harry could only smile back as a sudden calm encompassed them both. He felt truly satisfied, as if he was truly back by the cauldron and had just devoured Quirrell's dæmon all over again.

Harry looked towards Snape who stared unnervingly straight back.

"I increased the concentration," the potions master said.

"To what?" Tom asked, a half smile tugging at his own lips. "A whole dæmon?"

Harry was practically buzzing, his eyes alight as he clung to Tom. Last night, Tom had to stretch across their bond but now it was Harry's calmness that was holding them both in relative stability.

Snape pulled another potion out of his robe pocket but this time he held it out to Tom.

Tom eyed it suspiciously for a moment before he drew away from Harry to take it.

Tom downed it in one and at once his tiredness seemed to etch away. The effect was immediate as Laraine disappeared completely under Tom's influence, her brilliant light extinguished. Even Lyra's broken link was blocked. It made Harry feel alone despite Tom leaning back to cling to his side. Tom's abyss was usually prominent enough to notice, particularly when there were dæmons around but even this had vanished.

"Where's Dumbledore and Lupin?" Tom asked.

"Professor Dumbledore is already at the Ministry," Snape said and then his mouth twisted into an odd sort of sneer. "Professor Lupin on the other-hand has decided that his presence would cause more of a complication if anything."

"I think a werewolf at the Wizengamot is the least of your problems."

Harry spun about; he'd not seen Scrimgeour approach through the now open gates, which was both encouraging and unnerving.

Instinctively Harry took a rattling breath, so much in fact, that if he'd have been able to see Nala's dust he was sure it would be drawn towards him.

"Careful Potter," Snape warned.

Even Scrimegour raised an eyebrow at this but his lips remained pressed tightly together. Nala who was usually antagonised by Harry's presence was more subdued as she sat by Scrimgeour's side.

"Ready?" Scrimgeour grunted.

Neither Harry nor Tom responded, but Scrimgeour hobbled forward all the same and pulled out a broken watch from his robes.

The watch swung from the chain, its hands were pointed downwards and the face was cracked.

Tom's hand slipped into Harry's. His grip was deadly tight, as if nothing could tear him away. They simultaneously reached for the watch.

Immediately Harry's stomach did a horrible sort of jolt as his feet tore from the ground.

They were standing at one end of the Ministry Atrium with its long hall and polished dark wood floor. The fireplaces that lined the room each had a set of heavy iron bars across them. But there was something else fundamentally different from when they'd last been in the Ministry.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, as their footsteps echoed across the expanse of floor.

"The Ministry of Magic has been closed to any non essential personnel for the morning," Scrimgeour said. "We thought it best given the current situation."

Tom lent in to whisper in Harry's ear.

"They're expecting an attack."

Well that was certainly one way of making sure Death Eaters didn't get into the building unseen. But it did cause a twinge of terror to plunge through Harry. Tom noticed and he squeezed Harry's hand.

"Harry, trust me," Tom whispered. "I won't let you fail."

Harry wished he'd left the page of Riddle's diary at Hogwarts, hidden it somewhere just in case they were carted back to St Mungo's, but there was nothing he could do now but follow Scrimgeour as the auror led them into a waiting lift.

For the first time since the guillotine, Harry felt no fear enclosing himself in the small space. Perhaps it was Tom's immaculate control, or it might have been that the guillotine was so insignificant now. It's cold iron bars and sharp silver blade were nothing now that Tom had actually been ripped from him, Riddle had seen to that. No, there was something much worse than that now. And if anything went wrong today-

The lift juddered to a halt, startling Harry from his inward cycle of despair. But there was something else which stifled his panic and it was perhaps why Tom wasn't loosing his own composure.

Scrimgeour hadn't removed Tom's wand, not yet anyway.

They exited the lift and went down the stairs to where the courtrooms resided and came to a halt outside the grimy looking courtroom door.

Tom seemed reluctant to let go as his fingers remained entwined tightly against Harry's palm as Scrimgeour turned the heavy iron door handle.

It was as if someone had just pressed mute, as whatever buzz had been in the room died instantly. Harry paused on the threshold, almost half expecting dæmons to suddenly appear in the vision of his dead eye. But nothing changed and everything remained hidden from him.

Just like before at least fifty witches and wizards sat in dozens of raised stalls, each with their dæmon close by. In the centre of the room, instead of the large glass enclosure that had contained Tom before, there was now a chair with thick chains adorning the armrests. Dumbledore was seated only a few paces away, and there was a spare seat which Snape took.

Scrimgeour beckoned them forwards, and Harry could feel every eye roaming over his bandaged form as Tom took a deliberate step forwards.

But as soon as Tom's hand slipped away, nothing changed and Harry had no temptation to approach.

The chains clicked threateningly but they did not bind Harry as he sat down tentatively. Scrimgeour, satisfied that Harry and Tom weren't going anywhere, retreated back to where Nala was waiting beside Tonks with her jack rabbit at the entrance.

The whole room was unnervingly still, and the ceiling remained void of the dæmons capable of flight.

Everyone sat staring, and despite their fear they were curious to see if the rumours were true; if a true monstrosity stood before them. One witch was digging her fingers into her wolf's mane, while another had a penguin huddled against her chest as if she expected Harry would lash out right then and there. An old wizard sat on the row of benches closest to Harry, who could just make out the smallest of whiskers peaking out from under the old wizards hat.

Harry's attention however, was drawn to the very first row of the stalls, where Madam Bones and the Minister sat with their dæmons.

Fudge was glaring openly at Harry and Tom, his beaded eyes twitching slightly as Gracia actually bared her teeth and growled.

"Are you happy to proceed, Minister?" Madam Bones asked.

Fudge nodded sharply, so much so that his pointed hat slipped, making him look even more disgruntled. He'd clearly expected Harry to have acted out, was counting on it in fact, but Tom's control was impeccable.

"Very well, the Wizengamot is now in session," Madam Bones' voice boomed across the courtroom, so much so her robin bobbed once on her shoulder to stay his balance. And he wasn't the only dæmon to do so, even without his dead eye, Harry could see how unnerved the dæmons in the room were.

"The Ministry of Magic is seeking full custody over Mr Harry Potter and Mr Tom Riddle. I would like to add how unusual this is given that this court ruled on Mr Potter's guardianship less than two years ago-"

Fudge cast one angry look down at Harry and Tom before finally clearing his throat, his voice slightly higher than his normal tone. "Given Potter's current condition, his guardianship is no longer suitable under the care of Albus Dumbledore."

It would have been interesting to see Fawkes, to see Dumbledore's true reaction to this statement, but as it was Dumbledore merely blinked behind his half moon spectacles.

Madam Bones dæmon was far more interesting to watch, Harry hadn't noticed it last time but the small bird just didn't keep still. Currently, the robin was flicking his wings while puffing his little red breast out.

"Potter is demented-" Fudge said as Gracia his bull dog growled again.

There was an immediate shuffle amongst the room, as if those in the stalls were shocked that the Minister had said it out loud. The dæmons appeared ever so distressed as they barked, growled, hissed and showed their general displeasure.

"Potter may have been stabilised, but the boy has all of a dementor's capability, he's demonstrated on more than one occasion that he has no regard for a dæmon's life," and here Fudge paused, his beady little eyes scanning the occupants of the room daring anyone to say otherwise. "Dumbledore intends for the boy to attend Hogwarts, but I cannot sit by and allow this to happen, when the only place for Potter is a permanent residence in St Mungo's."

Harry expected an angry mutter to break out amongst the crowd, to ripple across what their dæmons must be feeling, but instead they were left with a deadly silence which stifled any feedback.

Harry chanced a glance at Tom who although appeared calm was stricken. He was scratching his fingers slightly against his leg where his wand was tucked away.

Even Madam Bones remained steely calm, but her tone was sharper.

"And why, Minister, did you insist that Mr Potter attend this hearing today? It is highly irregular, even given the circumstances. Mr Potter is underage, and his current guardian is more than capable of answering any of our questions, particularly noting that Mr Potter is currently undergoing intense rehabilitation."

"Didn't seem to care last time," Tom whispered so only Harry could hear. But last time, Harry had been forced from the courtroom, at least for the initial part.

"The boy is uncontrollable!"

If anything Fudge's voice was even higher as he straightened his waistcoat, pulling himself to his full height, which actually wasn't that heigh. "No amount of rehabilitation is going to change anything. Surely, the Wizengamot can understand that it is in their interests to see Potter's behaviours first hand, given that any inaction would risk Potter interacting directly with children's dæmons. The aurors have spent weeks trying and failing to gain any amount of control with the boy-"

"And we quickly realised that Mr Potter needed more attentive teachers," Dumbledore spoke for the first time. And even though Dumbledore hadn't raised his voice, he suddenly had the full attention of every witch, wizard and dæmon in the room. He paused slightly, waiting for Madam Bones to nod before continuing.

"Mr Potter has already made huge improvements, our Potions Master, Professor Snape has been teaching Mr Potter the theory behind Occulumency," here Dumbledore nodded to Snape. "While our new Defence Against the Arts teacher has been catering to Mr Potter's more primal side."

There was a odd pause at this, whereas Madam Bones dæmon merely cheeped loudly.

"Regardless, we have to accept that this new approach has already provided promising results," Dumbledore said. "Mr Potter is demented, but he is also a young wizard with a promising future ahead of him. And I see it as highly inhuman to give up on Harry when he has already faced so much trauma, yet is willing to work towards remaining human."

If anything, everyone was peering closer, almost expecting Harry to move. The Minister clearly had the same idea.

"There's no point sugar coating this, Dumbledore," Fudge snapped as he jabbed a finger down at Harry. "I've seen it myself; one dæmon is enough to antagonise the boy."

There was a pause, and not even Dumbledore bothered to contradict this statement, if anything he inclined his head slightly, a sad smile gracing his mouth.

"I'm more than happy to provide the demonstration you require, Minister. Harry has my full confidence."

And with a flash, that would have previously had Harry reeling with an uncontrollable frenzy, Dumbledore's dæmon appeared in a burst of golden light. For a moment, Harry thought Tom had failed, that the pure burst of energy from Fawkes sudden appearance had been too much, that it had been foolish to come here when there could only be one outcome.

But Harry didn't move, and it wasn't due to the chains that continued to clink threateningly. Fawkes light was fake, and if anything the burst of sudden light had already diminished, but that didn't stop how bright and tantalising the dæmon was without Harry's true sight.

And now the implications of Dumbledore's statement was dawning on Harry as he stared unnervingly at the phoenix.

Harry had barely been able to comprehend the true anger and hate he felt towards the Headmaster. Even Tom's fury had been distracted as all of his focus had been solely on staying Harry's humanity.

But now, with Dumbledore's soul presented before him and so easy to take, Harry wanted nothing more than to split it open and devour it. To make Dumbledore feel what Harry had when Tom had been ripped from him, just like they would have been had the guillotine succeeded.

Harry took a steady breath as cold irradiated into the room, so much so that the nearby dæmons curled into their humans who shuddered and drew away.

But Fawkes remained perfectly still, unperturbed from the icy hold that Harry was projecting.

"Very well," Madam Bones nodded, "Mr Potter if you would please stand."

It was so eerily similar to first year, and Harry felt the rising trepidation as he stood, his own breath hitching as Fawkes spread his wings wide. Beside Harry, Tom was motionless, his eyes shut tight as all of his concentration was directed at control Harry's urges across their bond.

There was no way this could end well.

If Harry had a heart, it would have been racing, beating rapidly inside his chest. As it was, the hollow darkness that consumed him remained stifled, preventing Harry's true feelings from consuming every thought and action. Beside him, Tom was almost delirious in his own mix of emotions. The enormity of what the last half an hour had entailed was rushing across their bond, that their freedom, although still restricted, hadn't been torn away from them.

But it wasn't over yet.

Tom had taken Harry's hand tightly in his, aware that the potion could fail at any moment. Harry however, was buzzing, eager to make the most of his time watching the dæmons that still lingered around the emptying courtroom. They were left relatively in peace as witches and wizards mingled about, whispering under their breaths while deliberately avoiding getting a little too close to Harry with their dæmons. Dumbledore was across the otherside of the courtroom talking to Snape and a wizard who had a squirrel dæmon that Harry didn't recognise. Fudge and Gracia were nowhere to be seen.

Tom seemed equally as interested watching the remaining occupants, but their attention was pulled away by someone else entirely.

"Very impressive, Mr Potter."

Harry and Tom both spun about to find themselves facing an unfamiliar grey haired wizard with a huge bird of prey grappled to his shoulder.

"Barty Crouch," the man said with barely a hint of a smile. "Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and this is my osprey, Ejlin," Crouch's head was slightly crooked and his neck was hunched, most likely from the weight of his dæmon.

Harry didn't speak, if anything his bandaged hand clenched slightly as he stared at the bird. Her wings, although tucked into her side were huge and her talons were clenched so fiercely into Crouch's shoulder that Harry was surprised not to see blood seeping through the man's robes.

Ejlin bowed her head as her large beady eyes peered down at Tom. Unlike the other dæmons which shunned away from Harry, she towered over them both unflinching.

Tom was undeterred though as he took a noticeable step to place himself between Harry and Crouch.

"What has International Magical Cooperation got to do with custody of Harry?" Tom asked, and although he smiled politely, Crouch understandably took a slight step back.

If Harry hadn't been watching he'd have missed the look of pure disdain that flicked across the man's features, but then Crouch's lips curled into a thin unnerving smile to match Tom's own.

"These are uncertain times, Mr Riddle," Crouch said. "I'm sure you can understand that there are others interested in your fate outwith those in the Wizengamot."

Tom didn't say anything to this, instead he squeezed Harry's hand tightly as he made to pull Harry away.

But Crouch was undeterred as he took a sudden step forwards, reaching out suddenly to take Harry's bandaged hand in his own. His dæmon unperturbed at the movement, didn't even move her large wings to steady herself.

"Although, it's not surprising that the Wizengamot are sympathetic to your circumstance, Mr Potter," Crouch continued briskly, his cool composure unwavering. "What happened to you is indeed tragic but the Wizengamot understood the consequences when they first put you in that guillotine, the results would have been the same after all."

A cold flush descended over Harry and it wasn't from the environment. Tom staggered slightly his own grip weakening in Harry's other palm.

"I haven't forgotten," Harry said as he tugged his withered hand away from Crouch.

Crouch seemed oddly satisfied with Harry's answer and certainly not at all concerned for his dæmon as the temperature around them plunged several degrees.

Tom fumbled for his wand, his coordination slipping as any of Harry's lingering excitement evaporated in a moment.

"Barty," a witch interrupted suddenly from behind Crouch. "We really must be going. Madam Bonaccord has been waiting all morning-"

And in that moment, Harry's attention was drawn from Crouch to the small mouse that was perched in the rim of the witches hat.

The witch froze, her eye's flickering for the briefest of moment's before her own hand flew to her mouth as she paled in an instant, Harry's cold sphere stealing any surrounding good thought. Her mouse dæmon that had been perfectly still before, gave one terrified squeak and promptly scurried down from the hat to bury itself in her robes.

"Nothing to worry about, Bertha," Crouch said briskly as he placed a hand on Bertha's wrist, "Mr Potter is still adjusting, he doesn't mean any harm."

Bertha shook her head, her eyes swelling with a hopeless confusion as Crouch merely tightened his hold.

"Mr Potter," Crouch said with only final nod towards Harry. Again there was that brief flicker of absolute disdain towards Tom, before Crouch simply turned and left, leading Bertha across the courtroom.

"He's a Death Eater if ever I knew it," Tom muttered.

Harry stared after Crouch, but with Tom blocking out his vision Harry could see nothing of any potential link between Crouch and Ejlin.

There was a harsh laugh behind them.

Scrimgeour had just appeared and he had caught Tom's comment.

"Crouch?" Scrimgeour said. "You couldn't find less of a Death Eater if you tried; his son on the other hand is as rotten as they come."

Tom looked vaguely interested at this as he watched Ejlin fly over the heads of the witches and wizards before soaring through the heavy courtroom doors.

"Is that right?" Tom said softly.

Scrimgeour however, was already scanning his wand over Harry, causing his good eye to dilate.

Harry squinted, raising his hand over his face at the intrusive light.

Harry was sure Scrimgeour would berate him, accuse him of cheating his way to stability, but what the auror said next took Harry completely by surprise.

"Come on then," Scrimgeour said gruffly with a jerk of his head as he lowered his wand. "There's someone who wants to see you."

Scrimgeour escorted Harry and Tom back into the elevator and up to his office at the far end of the row of empty cubicles.

"Wait here," Scrimgeour said gruffly, before adding. "And don't touch anything."

There was a distinctive click of the lock behind them.

Tom crossed the room and sank into Scrimegour's office chair, briefly eyeing up the scatters of paperwork on the auror's desk and the dozens of paper planes which zoomed around above it.

Harry tugged at his bandages ripping them clear from his right eye. At once warm air rushed over his face allowing for his rotten skin to breath. The bandages were spotted in a black shadow like substance from where Harry's skin had blistered and welted against the thick material.

Tom lent back in the chair, watching Harry cautiously. Tom didn't look very happy as he took out his wand and tapped it against the desk absently.

"That was too easy," he said quietly. "The Wizengamot shouldn't have let you back to Hogwarts."

A chill rippled across the room as any happiness of their success dissipated.

"If you think we didn't stand a chance, why did you let me go through all that?" Harry said, his voice barely holding holding steady.
Tom sighed, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes tight.

"St Mungo's is safer than with Voldemort."

"Not until the Ministry decide I'm a lost cause and get rid of you," Harry bit back.

"Temporarily safer," Tom corrected.

"Still," Harry said. "You would have seen us go back there-"

"You know I wouldn't, I would have done anything to keep you from there," Tom said as he kept his eyes clenched shut.

Harry's stomach twisted at this. He knew Tom was more than capable of holding his own, but Tom's rising trepidation from this morning made even more sense.

"Interestingly," Tom added quietly. "So would Dumbledore-"
"I-what?" Harry had opened his mouth to retort, but that statement caught him completely off guard. "Dumbledore?"

"Mmm," Tom said as he peeled his eyes open to look at Harry. "Since Dumbledore removed you from Fudge's watch there's been a shift between them."

"So, why does that change anything?" Harry asked.

"It means that if Fudge had been granted guardianship of us then Dumbledore would have intervened."

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed.

"You can't base that on anything," Harry said. "Anyway, Dumbledore wasn't going to do anything in front of the Wizengamot."

Tom shrugged

"He didn't need to."

Tom pulled out the potion bottle Snape had given him this morning.

"It's another portkey," Tom said as he rolled it between his fingers.

Harry eyed it sceptically.

"If it's from Snape how do you know it won't take us straight to Voldemort?"

"It won't," Tom shook his head as he held the small bottle up carefully so Harry could see the small engraving around the top. "It goes back to Hogwarts."

"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those you ask for it," Harry read out loud before he frowned. "So why hasn't it triggered?"

Tom shrugged.

"I guess we don't need help anymore," he said.

"But then Snape is on Dumbledore's side-"

Tom shook his head if anything his frown deepening more.

"It's really not that simple-"

They were interrupted as the Scrimegour's office door scraped open and a distinctive voice drifted through the entrance. Tom hastily pushed the empty bottle back into his pocket.

"Of course my readers have been eager for an update-"

Rita Skeeter was beaming and she looked positively delighted as she spied Tom sitting at Scrimgeour's desk.

"Tom, we didn't get a chance to speak properly at the press conference, I'm desperate to know how you really feel about He Who Must Not Be Named's return, and of course Harry's opinion-"

Her charming smile was still plastered on her face as she turned to find Harry standing just behind the door and that's when her mouth fell agape, her eyes widening with such terror. She didn't need to ask what had happened, the fear striking her heart was enough.

Rita's hands trembled, causing her large crocodile-skin bag fall from her grip. A bright purple ink bottle smashed on the floor and a long, acid green quill tumbled out before rising into the air, ready and twitching impatiently with some parchment beneath it.

Nala hissed, her large tabby eyes fixed on the floating quill while Scrimegour merely looked at the bandages strewn across the floor now splattered in purple ink before adding. "No photographs, we'll provide you with one."

Photographs were clearly the last thing on Rita's mind, instead she swooped down to gather up her bag, in an almost desperate terror that Harry was almost convinced her dæmon was hiding in it.

But Tom's control remained impeccable and so Harry was left with only one other option.

"Where's your dæmon?" Harry asked.

Rita Skeeter took a step back, her handbag now clutched so tightly to her chest; her long nails were digging into it like talons. Her quill twitched again, but she could only stare openly at Harry's dead eye and his distorted rotten skin, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

"B...but the Wizengamot can't have agreed to-" her voice faulted as if Scrimgeour had just told her come sick joke.

Scrimgeour didn't blink.

"You have five minutes," the auror instructed as Nala brushed against his heels.

"Wait- you're not going to leave me with that-" Rita started forwards, her usually charming smile more of a horrified grimace.

Scrimgeour glared at her.

"You've insisted on an interview all week. Anyway, Tom won't let Potter attack you," Scrimegour said.

Rita's gaze, hidden behind her jewelled glasses, slipped across to Tom, almost pleading him not to let Harry loose upon her.

Scrimgeour however, seemed satisfied enough as he left, but this time he didn't lock the door behind him.

"May I?" Tom said immediately as he reached for her quill and plucked it straight from the air.

Rita Skeeter didn't protest as Tom started etching the quill into the parchment.

Harry peered over Tom's shoulder to read out loud the neat scribble.

"The Ministry and Professor Dumbledore are committed to Mr Potter's recovery and ensuring that he is able to continue his education at Hogwarts-"

Tom however, didn't respond as he paused, clearly preoccupied before he wrote.

"Mr Potter was visibly distressed when asked how he felt returning to the room where he lost his dæmon nearly two year prior-"

Harry's stomach twisted as the room plunged into cold, so much so that Rita gave a little whimper.

"Don't say that."

But Tom was still writing, his own emotions pouring onto the parchment.

"People have to remember that the Ministry are just as responsible for you being like this," Tom said quietly.

"I don't want anyone's sympathy," Harry said before his mouth twisted into a disturbed grin as he once again attempted to locate Rita's hidden dæmon.

Rita couldn't have been clutching her crocodile-skin handbag any tighter as she looked pleadingly at Tom.

Tom briefly turned his attention to her, and Harry knew that Tom's resolve was starting to waver, that he too was just as keen to see where her dæmon was hiding.

"Just one second," Harry said. "I promise I won't do anything."

Tom couldn't help but laugh bitterly at this, but he didn't say no.

"I don't know if I'll be able to regain control again."

"Do you need to?" Harry asked as he took a deliberate step towards Rita Skeeter.

Rita stumbled, her legs barely finding the strength to carry her forwards as she lunged towards the door. She fled from the room with a high pitched scream, her quill and parchment trailing after her.

Lyra was close. Riddle had never been more certain.

The familiar ache in his chest felt like it had never been absent and it was a horrid reminder of how intoxicating having a fresh soul so close could be.

Riddle scanned his surroundings with a slight frown. Up ahead a thin path led into a large cluster of trees but there was no indication that the pine marten had taken this path yet.

Riddle crouched down, his robes scuffing on the dried dirt as he held Potter's wand loosely in his grip.

"You know I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.

There was a rustle of leaves and Riddle stilled, his breath catching as he waited. His voice had only carried so far and he knew that he had been heard.

He dare not speak again, for one wrong move could ruin everything. Yet, the silence stretched out and the leaves remained still as if a gust of wind had been the cause.

Riddle cursed as he barely held from flicking Potter's wand, for there was only one thought which occupied this mind, and it was the same doubt that had itched away at his constant growing worries.

A loud crack reverberated around the hillside, startling a flock of crows that were perched on the nearby stone wall.

Any other wizard would have reacted, not that they would have had a chance to defend themselves, as it was Riddle merely blinked at the intrusion.

Lord Voldemort stood only a few meters away, just at the edge of the forest. The Dark Lord looked oddly out of place, his pale face if anything appeared more distorted under the bright daylight. His black cloak clung to his skeletal body as red fierce eyes fixed onto Riddle.

Riddle's diary pulsed as the ache of his soul became something else entirely now.

He stared at the small patch of disturbed dirt and the grass behind it that had now been pushed aside.

Lyra was gone.

"You've heard more about Potter," Riddle said as he stood slowly, his gaze still lingering on where the dæmon had just been. "You wouldn't be here otherwise."

Voldemort's chilling silence was enough confirmation, and Riddle couldn't help but clench his fists tighter around Potter's wand, so much so that red sparks spat from its tip.

Voldemort in turn, didn't move or speak. If anything, his face remained impassive, immune to Riddle's annoyance.

"And?" Riddle pressed. Now he took a half step closer, his own hand itching to pull out the diary and see if Potter would be amenable to say more than his infrequent scribbles.

"There is potential," Voldemort said. The acknowledgement was all Riddle needed.

"So what of Potter's fate now?" Riddle asked. "If the Ministry decide to keep a tight leash on the boy it'll make things far more complicated-"

"The matter has been dealt with," Voldemort said coolly. "The boy will remain at Hogwarts."

For a moment Riddle stilled, his curiosity only staying because of Lord Voldemort's next statement as his Lord's red eyes fixated on the dust that covered his robes.

"You haven't made any progress."

Riddle's brow creased as he turned to glare through the narrow treeline.

"Lyra can't hide forever," Riddle said.

"And yet the fact that she's remained so is rather telling in itself," Voldemort hissed.

An infuriated look crossed Riddle's face, only exaggerated when Voldemort held out an expectant long spidery finger.

Reluctantly and deliberately slowly, Riddle withdrew the object which contained his very essence and presented it to Lord Voldemort.

His diary gleamed in the daylight, even more so highlighting Potter's recent untidy scrawl.

"I need the connection to be strong," Riddle said, his voice rising slightly to match Voldemort's own as his Lord read the dull inked words.

"I agreed to this only because you assured me the boy would cooperate," Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a sneering, furious scowl. "Yet have no visible results."

Riddle gave Voldemort a pointed stare at this as he crossed his arms.

"Harry's feeling a little delicate towards me right now," Riddle said coolly.

Voldemort's snake like face twisted into an unpleasant smirk, his monstrous face appearing even more unnatural.

"And you were so confident before-"

"I will find her," Riddle snapped. "Harry shared everything with me; he won't deny me, not now. He just needs time-"

Riddle's sentence fell short for the first time under the ferociousness of his Lord's stare.

"Ensure you locate her soon," Voldemort hissed. "You aren't the only one hunting her after all."

"Black?" Riddle laughed coldly, and he sounded delirious at the possibility, his eyes widening as his lips curled up into a smirk. "Do you have that little faith in me? As if Lyra would ever reveal herself to that mutt over me."

The cold reception to Riddle's reaction was enough confirmation of the Dark Lords thoughts as red eyes narrowed. Riddle however, wasn't deterred, there was still one thing he needed to know.

"And Nagini?"

Voldemort didn't bother responding to this.

"Ensure that your attention does not waiver," Voldemort hissed. "You will not be granted another chance."

The Dark Lord twisted on the spot, his robes billowing around him as he vanished, leaving the piece of his soul completely alone.