Harry paced back and forth, his steps carving the same path he'd walked for days as he tore his decayed fingers through his hair.
From their room up in the tower, Harry could see every inch of the castle as it trembled in its chaotic beauty. Every corner was alight with the most unimaginable temptation, not that it mattered, for dæmons paled in significance compared to Harry's latest obsession.
At first, the distortion had been hidden among the hundreds of souls that had entered castle, lost in Harry's own inability to focus on anything, but now after weeks of solitary, Harry could now single out the ripple as he'd watched, learnt and memorised their routine.
Across their room, Tom was almost deliberate in his nonchalance despite feeling every itch of Harry's compulsion pass through their bond.
As it was, Tom merely flicked a page of his book before he glanced up at Harry.
"Can you see the ghosts with your right eye?"
Harry stopped only briefly, his dead eye barely flicking away from the spot he knew his target was currently located.
"No."
Tom nodded and noted something down in the top corner of a piece of parchment that was already covered in dozens of scrawls.
"Mm, when you die your soul passes on," Tom muttered to himself. "It wouldn't make any sense for your dæmon to remain behind as well."
Tom had a select number of books strewn around the room. Several were lying open on the small desk as he consulted them while at least another half dozen were scattered across the unmade bed. As it was there was one particular book Tom was focused on that caught Harry's good eye.
Harry peeled his attention away; it was unlikely his prey was likely to change for a few more minutes.
"Why are you reading a Quidditch book?" Harry asked.
Without so much as looking up, Tom spun the book around so that Harry could see better. The page was littered with intricate diagrams of witches and wizards with their dæmons.
"Techniques on stretching," Harry read from the top of page.
"Apparently it's a common misconception that Professional Quidditch players can separate themselves from their dæmons," Tom explained as he scrawled something else on his expanse of parchment. "It's an advantage if your dæmon isn't stuck by your side during the match. The technique they use is to continuously stretch their dæmon's bond to the limit and then repeat but they try to stretch it just a little further each time."
"So they're technically still attached?" Harry asked.
Tom nodded.
"A Quidditch player only cares about the length of the pitch, however, players spend years learning how to do this. It's not like your bond which splintered because Lyra left in a moment."
"So what does that mean?"
"So," Tom finally looked up as he snapped the book shut. "There seem to be different types of connections between human and dæmon."
He pulled forwards his quill, ink bottle and a blank piece of parchment and drew a single line made up of a small cluster of dots.
"So this is what a normal bond looks like from a dementors point of view."
Tom dipped his quill in the ink and drew a longer stretched line with roughly the same amount of dots.
"And this is what I think a professional Quidditch player's bond with their dæmon would look like. Whereas this," Tom now took the quill and flicked it against his finger so that droplets of ink sprayed out across the parchment. "Is your connection with Lyra. Which theoretically will be the same as Neville and his dæmon."
Harry couldn't help but glance back towards where his prey was. There was a moments pause, before Tom tapped his quill sharply and cleared his throat.
Reluctantly, Harry focused back onto Tom.
"Which only leaves one other bond that we know of," Tom concluded. Harry frowned, he couldn't think of any other golden dust like patterns.
Tom however, had set down his quill and gave a pointed gesture between themselves.
"Oh," Harry said.
Tom didn't answer, if anything his expression shifted slightly.
"Tom?"
Tom picked up another book. The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.
"There aren't many people who have no connection at all, which means that it's not as common as I first thought." Tom gestured to the stack of books on the desk. "There's nothing and I still haven't found anything on how to separate yourself from your dæmon without suffering horrific effects."
"There must be some information in the restricted section of the library?" Harry asked as scanned the books McGonagall had given Tom over the past week.
"I don't recall anything in Of Daemons, Demons and Daimons, and if it's going to be in any book that's the one I'd want to look at first. The only thing I can find is in here," Tom flicked open the first few pages of the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. "The bond needs to be broken past anything recoverable, and it has to be powerful, dark magic. Of course, Dumbledore and Grindelwald have both had the ability for years." Tom flicked a page to indicate the specific passage. "It says so here."
A chill like no other coursed through Harry as he shut his eyes briefly.
"So a Basilisk?"
Tom looked away at this, his own finger's clenching tightly around the books cover.
"Yes, a Basilisk's gaze would be more than enough," he said quietly.
Harry swallowed thickly. There was a heavy silence as the one question that Harry really didn't want to ask lingered. But to say it out loud would be admitting the truth. Instead, Harry cleared his throat and steered the conversation back to Tom's original point.
"Right, so Dumbledore and Grindelwald make sense, but what about Moody?" Harry asked. "He seems opposed to anything that's related to the Dark Arts yet he can separate himself from his dæmon."
"I'm not sure on that one," Tom said slowly. "But Moody's spent years fighting dark wizards, I think there's a high chance that he came across a very nasty curse one day that ripped Itzel from him."
Harry could remember Moody's dæmon all to clearly with her absent wing that had been violently torn off. She was a very proud red kite, who was invisible to all but Harry's dead eye, and Moody's blue one apparently.
But there was still someone else more significant who could separate themselves from their dæmon.
"Voldemort," Harry said. "I've never seen Nagini with him, well except for Riddle's memories."
Tom looked up at this one and by the indifferent look on his face it was clearly not something he was concerned about.
"Voldemort was hit with by the rebounding killing curse and that's as dark magic as you get," Tom said. "But honestly I think he had the capability to separate himself and Nagini long before that. His Death Eaters certainly did, they were renown for it. Most people assumed Voldemort taught them how to do it himself."
"So whatever technique they used is unlikely going to be in a school textbook," Harry concluded.
"I doubt it," Tom shrugged as he shut the book with a hard snap. "But it was worth a shot."
As if echoing the sudden abrupt noise, there was a equally sharp knock on the door. At the slight shake of Harry's head, Tom nearly didn't raise his wand.
Instead Tom took great care to collect up his numerous scrolls of parchment and selection of books before he peered into an a small mirror on the wall.
"You still look awful," the mirror pipped up. "Worse in fact, I haven't seen someone look so close to death's door. Oh stop glaring at me, would you rather I lie and said you look as fresh as a pixie?"
There was another sharp rap of knuckles on the door before Tom finally relinquished. He spared one final glare at the mirror before he took a deep breath and unlocked their side of the door.
Snape entered, his robes billowing behind him. It was the same every day, ever since term had started weeks ago and the castle had been full of dæmons. Snape's boots clipped across the floor before he sat a deep purple potion onto the desk in front of Tom.
Tom looked away, deliberately refusing to make eye contact, but there was no fooling the potions master as his eyes narrowed.
"Drink," Snape demanded.
As always, Tom failed to hide the tremble in his fingers as he grasp the bottle.
"If you'd just give Harry his potion, I wouldn't need this-" Tom started.
Snape's lip curled into a nasty sneer, as he turned his attention to Harry.
"Potter has yet to prove he's ready to integrate with the student populate," Snape said.
Harry's stomach did a horrible sort of somersault at this, as his guilt flashed across their bond.
"He's proven it to the Wizengamot," Tom muttered, but they both knew this would change nothing. Both Snape and Dumbledore had made it clear that Harry's supply of potions would be used sparingly, given the nature of the main ingredient.
Tom crunched up his fingers, his knuckles whitening as he downed the regenerative potion. Harry watched silently, barely resisting the urge to look towards his latest obsession. He knew it was his fault, that Tom could not continue in such close quarters with him while there were hundreds of dæmons constantly driving his desires to hunt.
It only took a moment for the bags under Tom's eyes to recede and a slight colour to return to his face. But his haunted look remained, the constant strain of Harry's influence digging into every ounce of Tom's resolve.
Snape was however, satisfied as he stepped across and towered over Harry who had perched himself on the end of the bed.
Harry blinked as Snape's wand glowed into Harry's good eye. He squinted and looked away.
"Still no progress, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Why am I not surprised. I would have thought that after nearly a month surrounded by dæmons you would have gained some competency-"
Snape never got a chance to finish.
Tom slammed his fist against the desk, the wood splintering from his raw magic. Snape didn't even have time to even raise his wand before Tom's own was pointed directly in the potion master's face.
"Get out," Tom snapped.
Snape's expression was stone, the fury in his eyes the only thing that implied that Tom had gone too far.
"You've made it very clear we will never leave this room," Tom hissed as his wand spat out black sparks. "Now get out, before you will never leave this room."
"You wouldn't-" Snape started, a sneer on his face.
Tom's curse was aimed perfectly. The black light would have contacted Snape's chest had he not twisted to avoid it.
"Out," Tom repeated, his wand still raised.
"Believe it or not, Riddle," Snape snapped as his nostrils flared. "Your resistance towards receiving help is only punishing Potter."
Tom's laugh was hollow.
"Give Harry a dæmon. I'm not resisting that."
The flash of raw emotion from Tom was all that Harry needed to know that there was an inch of truth to Tom's words. Harry couldn't help it, his decayed smile tugged into a frightening grin. Snape noticed.
"This is not a joke," Snape snapped but he refrained from even trying to raise his wand. "If you aren't going to encourage Potter than no wonder he is failing at Occlumency."
"Harry is failing because you have the audacity to refuse him what he needs to recover. Now get out, I won't warn you again."
Tom's wand was levelled, and Harry knew it with the pulse of deadly fury from Tom that it was primed to kill.
Something in Snape's eyes flashed as his face suddenly twisted into something fowl, almost inhuman, demented like Harry. But Tom was only feet away, and the consequences would have been catastrophic.
"Just try it," Tom said, his lips curling into a daring, delusional smile.
An icy stillness descended over the room, as Snape's face settled into something slightly less unpleasant. Snape had clearly remembered who Tom really was, that he would suffer far more than anything Tom was capable of if he retaliated.
Snape glared at Tom for another moment, then turned and left without another word.
The door would have slammed had it not been so ancient. As it was the grate behind it sliced up from the floor as Snape swept out out of view and vanished down the tower.
"You didn't need to do that," Harry said quietly.
Tom flicked Harry a look.
"Yes, I did."
"Snape will find out eventually," Harry said quietly. "Or Lupin. We can't hide it forever."
"I'll think of something," Tom bit out as he stepped back to his books. Harry watched from his position on the bed. Tom was thinner than usual, despite Snape's potion, and it was only becoming more prominent with each passing day.
Harry took an unsteady breath, which was enough chill to catch Tom's attention.
"Tom, how long can a dæmon survive when it's near to a dementor?"
The silence was consuming as Tom ran his hand through his hair, and he really did look so fragile. Had Harry really done that to him.
"It doesn't matter," Tom said as he shook his head and threw a thin unconvincing smile towards Harry. "As soon as you get your potion supply again, I'll be fine."
Harry's stomach churned at this as he deliberately look away from Tom. Instead he stared at his withered palms.
"There wasn't much of Black's dæmon left," Harry said quietly. "What if the same happens to you?"
"Harry, no one can find out why you're struggling with Occlumency," Tom stressed as he rubbed his fingers between his eyes. "We just need to trick Snape long enough to get you your potion, then everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it."
Harry grinned suddenly, ignoring the fear that suddenly filled Tom's eyes or the flash or terror that stretched across their bond.
"Harry-" Tom started, only to be momentarily thrown as Harry broke off his attention as his dead eye focused on something new entirely.
"Dæmons-" Harry whispered as he slipped from the bed and made his way across the room towards the door.
Two souls were climbing up their tower at a decent pace, but that wasn't even the most interesting thing. The souls were identical. The dust like substance that connected them to their human was a criss cross of chaos, linking their bonds in complete perfection.
Harry was fascinated. The sheer substance and quantity he had not seen in such patterns before.
It was enough for Tom to catch his breath, as he took a hesitant step after Harry, but Harry was absorbed in nothing else.
Now that the dæmons were closer, Harry could see them clearly. As expected the two huskies were bound to their human's, but it was the additional chain that was something new entirely. A single thread of golden light linked each husky to the other.
"Who is it?" Tom asked.
"Celendia and Demetria," Harry said.
"Fred and George?"
Harry nodded eagerly. The twins could separate themselves from their dæmons. Or at least, one of them could at any time, they used this ability often enough on the Quidditch pitch, yet there was no indication that they could do so now.
Harry pressed his hand against the door and gave a single sharp breath as he stared hungrily their bond.
"How do they do that?" Harry whispered.
Tom placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, drawing him back slightly before he raised his wand and tapped it against the door twice.
"Partis Sonorus," Tom whispered with his other finger raised to his lips.
At once two familiar voices came floating through the door.
"I don't know why you're even using the map," George Weasley was saying. "There aren't any dæmons up here, and it's not like Filch shows up on it either so it won't even give us a heads up-"
"Not for Filch, but Einaris has been up here four times in the past week, Kulang twice and Niamh six. Unless you want McGonagall to give us another detention-"
The hot anger which flooded from Harry was countered by the spike in curiosity that splintered from Tom.
"They can see dæmons?" Harry asked, his voice edged with cold.
But Tom shushed him, an intense expression on his face as he lent closer to the door. Fred and George however, never got a chance to say another word.
There was a flash, a burst of light off in the distance of the castle, in the exact spot that Harry had been watching obsessively for the past two hours.
Harry stumbled backwards, his breath catching as he lost all reason. Tom grabbed his arm and yanked him hard away from the door.
But the damage had already been done and the effect had been instantaneous. Celendia and Demetria withdrew as if the sudden cold air had burnt them.
Harry and Tom went deadly silent, but there was no way to salvage their mistake.
"Was that-" Fred breathed, his own voice catching slightly.
"A dementor," George said. "Definitely."
Fred swore as Celendia and Demetria retreated a few extra steps down the narrow staircase.
"I guess this is it-"
"Wait, what are you doing-" Celendia barked.
"Shh, just let me try something," Fred said as he assumedly raised his wand.
In turn, Harry didn't see Tom raise his arm, or the subtle flick of his wand that made Harry's world go black.
Harry's head would have slammed off the floor but Tom merely flicked his wand again, catching Harry as his body collapsed. With another flick of his wand, Harry lifted, his arms hanging loosely from his side as Tom positioned him gently back onto the bed.
Tom turned his attention back to Fred and George who were muttering in hurried whispers.
"That door's not going to move-" Fred started.
"For good reason," Celendia said. "Just leave it-"
"Shh, there's got to be a trick to it, I'll check the map," George said.
Tom's heart was racing as he raised his wand for one final time. This was one opportunity that he so desperately needed. The door swung open easily at his command with a loud creak.
The heavy grate remained steeled across the entrance, baring his exit. But it didn't matter, Tom didn't need to go anywhere.
Fred and George stood just on the other side with their dæmons cowering behind them, their claws scraping the stone as if prepared to flee. Tom took a step towards them, ignoring the parchment that George had clutched his hand, as his thoughts were on one thing only.
Before either twin could protest or make any outburst of surprise, Tom raised his hands cutting off any questions.
"I need your help."
Harry's prey had adapted.
It had been a week. Seven long days of waiting, with no indication that the distortion was still there. Harry had had to settle for watching normal dæmons, and although they stilled glowed brightly, were still intense, they all felt so insignificant in comparison.
Of course that didn't stop Harry hoping, he'd memorised the distortions routine to a tee, knowing that they had to reveal their true capability sooner or later.
But for now, Harry could only watch and wait. Tom however had taken this opportunity to ensure that Harry cleared his mind every day.
And for the most part, after nearly four long weeks of failure, they had finally been successful.
Currently, Harry sat across from Tom, their hands entwined loosely in each others.
Harry's breathing was shallow as everything dulled. Even when he opened his eyes Harry was no longer burned with that insistent, obsessive longing.
"Better," Snape said as he stood slightly to the side. The potion's master was silent for a moment as his expression darkened. "Professor Lupin indicated today that you were far more focused in your last lesson. What have you changed?"
Harry couldn't help but glance at Tom. But Tom merely looked away. He wasn't going to grant Snape the satisfaction of an answer.
Harry took a rattling breath, as he met Snape's piercing stare.
"I guess I've been less distracted," Harry shrugged.
"See what happens when you actually try, Potter," Snape drawled.
Harry's abyss of a heart swirled, as the darkness inside of him plunged inwards but the castle's dæmons remained suppressed.
"So I finally get to start classes again?" Harry pressed. He tried so hard to keep his face impassive.
Snape stared at him hard.
And then Snape did something Harry would never had expected as his expression twisted into something unpleasant.
"Well Riddle? Do you think Potter is ready to rejoin his classmates?"
Even Tom seemed momentarily stunned before he nodded slowly.
"Then I will discuss the matter with the Headmaster this evening," Snape said.
Snape's eyes locked onto Harry's, it was like Harry was being tested for one final time. Whatever, the outcome, Snape finally seemed satisfied as he nodded and left without another word.
Harry was up and pacing across the room in an instant, a broad smile on his ashen face.
"Do you think Dumbledore will agree?" Harry said, more to himself than to Tom. "He'll have to surely. Even Lupin thinks we're ready. We get to be among dæmons again, Tom."
But Harry's smile vanished at the sudden despair that shot across their bond. Tom had sat down on the bed, burying his head in his hands.
Despite the flicker of concern, the castle remained in darkness.
"Tom-"
But Tom didn't say anything, if anything his shoulder's slumped as he drew an unsteady breath.
Harry sat down next to Tom so that their shoulders were pressed together.
"You don't think I'm ready do you?" he asked.
"Before that dæmon arrived I could have done this without you," Tom said softly, suddenly looking up to meet Harry's dead eye. "Now I'm not so sure. Please don't do anything rash."
It was finally happening.
Harry grasped the forbidden potion eagerly, pressing it to his cracked lips. The taste was exhilarating, each gulp so satisfying, like scratching an ancient itch. Tom was beside him, watching cautiously, while simultaneously glaring at Snape for denying it from Harry for so long.
"You'll attend just the one lesson today, Potter," Snape said. "And if this goes well you will be permitted to rejoin the rest of your lessons without my supervision."
Harry was barely listening, he was too absorbed in the forbidden potion, in the complete feeling that had suddenly enveloped him. Even Tom was suddenly buzzing, relaxing for the first time in weeks as he tugged his arms around Harry's waist and tucked his head on Harry's shoulder.
Only their relative peace could not last forever. It was interrupted abruptly as Snape's dæmon flew down from a suit of armour, fluttering about irregularly so that Tom and Harry reluctantly separated. Harry watched Laraine patiently, undeterred that his dead eye revealed none of her enchanting light.
"Ready?" Tom asked as he slipped his hand into Harry's.
Harry could only nod numbly.
Classes had already started, so there was no sign of either human or dæmon saturating the corridors as Snape, Laraine, Harry and Tom made their way down through the castle. It didn't take long to enter the dungeons and despite being surrounded in Harry's chill for weeks, Tom shivered at the rush of cold air.
The third year Gryffindor and Slytherins were waiting huddled outside of Snape's classroom, chatting amongst themselves in excited hurried whispers.
"I wonder what's taken so long-"
"I know, term started weeks ago-"
"Maybe it took longer than expected for Potter to heal completely-"
"I guess that means Harry's going to be back in our dormitory tonight?"
Harry was barely five paces down the corridor before the first dæmon noticed him. As if like dominoes, the excited chatter died in an instant.
Everyone's faces were only of horror, their mouths wide open despite being spared any direct chill from Harry. Every dæmon drew away, cowering under legs or into a tight embrace. Of course Rita's Skeeters article had delved into the details of what had happened to Harry, but the photograph provided to the Daily Prophet had shown only Harry standing before the Wizengamot covered in bandages. No one had seen his rotten skin and his twisted grin, or his dead eye that fixed upon their dæmons unwaveringly.
Several people whimpered and their dæmons howled as all happiness was consumed.
In comparison, Harry hadn't felt so alive, despite his desire to consume suppressed, to be among dæmons again was exhilarating.
Harry stayed his breath, watching eagerly despite being limited to his good eye. He couldn't see Sephronia or Ramiron, Ron and Hermione must be standing slightly further down the corridor, instead it was the Slytherin's who took the brunt of Harry's chill. Theodore Nott's sparrowhawk had taken flight in a flurry of alarm, while Blaise Zabini found himself suddenly behind his growling, agitated cheetah. Draco was right at the forefront, his face pale as Adara dug her claws into his shoulder and stared unblinking at Harry.
Draco looked on the verge of saying something, his mouth agape.
"In," Snape snapped from behind Harry and Tom as Laraine circled above everyone's head in a series of flurried movements. No one moved, for to enter the potion's classroom would be trapped in a room with Harry, but to not move would be to remain alone in the corridor where Harry currently was.
Tom jerked his head slightly at Draco, which actually caused Adara to shiver and press tighter against him. But Draco took a tentative step towards the classroom.
They piled in after him, Theodore's sparrowhawk flew high out of Harry's reach while some other dæmons sprinted ahead of their humans.
Harry knew better, specially after all of Tom's torment and that both Snape and Tom would berate him later, but he had come this far just for this moment.
Neville was the first of the Gryffindor's to hurry past, just as Harry gave a very deliberate in take of breath.
And then it happened. Just like Harry had hoped it would. It was more intense up close, and everything Harry had dreamt of.
It was like a burst, a small explosion of light rippling outwards before crashing back in on itself to form a new dæmon. A distortion so strong, that the energy had rippled across the castle for weeks and not even Tom, or the forbidden potion could prevent it.
It shook Harry to the core as he lost all reason. He would have it.
Harry threw himself forwards knowing he had only milliseconds to take advantage of Tom's disorientation. But of course Tom was ready, had been wary of Harry's intentions from the start.
Harry was fast, twisting down in a moment to dodge Tom's curse. His classmates scattered, but Harry had his target. He slammed his arm across Neville's chest, pinning him against the wall as Tom defended the wrong thing. Cyrilla flew high into the air, out of Neville's desperate grasp and away from Harry's reach.
But there was more than one way to devour a dæmon. Harry never got a chance to even draw breath.
His classmates screamed as Harry's feet swung out from under him, yanking him upwards as Harry found himself upside down and hanging by his feet.
Snape's footsteps echoed against the floor, drumming into Harry's ears as his prey was snatched from him. Cyrilla floated only a few feet in front of him, changing rapidly that Harry could see every particle of gold explode and reform like a rapid spell that enraptured him. Tom staggered, his hold diminishing. He hurriedly lowered his wand, for fear of dropping Cyrilla, allowing the dæmon to scurry deep into Neville's robes as the Gryffindor's collapsed and sunk down against the wall.
"Let me down," Harry seethed as he tried to grab at Neville but his arms flailed uselessly below his head.
The Slytherin's had missed most of the commotion, but they seemed reluctant to enter back into the corridor. As for the Gryffindor's, each was routed to the spot, despite some of their dæmons looking ready to flee.
"Harry-"
It was Tom, the sheer disappointment and desperation was paramount in every part of his being, but still Harry's mouth was twisting into a delirious smile, his good eye alight with intoxicating madness while the patchy remains of his hair stood on end.
"You can't keep her from me forever," Harry whispered as he stared down at Neville who clung to his dæmon that had settled in a form of a mouse.
Ice was starting to creep along the wall now as Neville gave a distinguished sob. But with this final burst of light, Cyrilla's light vanished as quickly as she'd appeared.
Tom held his wand surprisingly still as he placed his own hand against the wall to steady himself, he didn't dare look towards Snape, even Harry who was now floating unconscious filled his heart with dread.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The pit of Tom's stomach was sinking rapidly.
"Class dismissed," Snape snapped. "Return to your dormitories now. Not you, Mr Longbottom. You stay right there."
Neville actually whimpered as everyone else scattered.
Snape looked livid. So did Laraine as she screeched loudly, causing Neville to flinch and press his hands against his ears.
"Get up, Longbottom," Snape said. He didn't even spare a glance at Tom.
Neville's legs could hardly support himself as he forced himself to stand. His eyes never once left Harry who looked almost peaceful despite his rotten skin and dead eye.
A burst of white light filled the dungeon corridor as Laraine flicked into her patronus form.
"You know who to find," Snape practically growled. And with another swish of Snape's wand, Laraine was tearing away leaving a trail of bright light behind her.
"With me, both of you."
Snape flicked his wand, and Harry began moving still upside down along the corridor towards Snape's office. Tom would have protested, but he had more pressing things to deal with.
"You promised she wouldn't change," Tom hissed at Neville as they fell into step behind Snape and the unconscious floating Harry.
"She didn't mean to, it's just Harry, it was awful-" Neville spluttered as Cyrilla burrowed into his arms.
But Tom wasn't listening, instead he fixed his deadly gaze on Neville and in turn Cyrilla, who was a mouse, then a rabbit, then a bird. This time however, Tom was ready as he dug his wand into Neville's stomach.
"Stop it," Tom hissed. "Do you know what you have done?"
"You can't blame Mr Longbottom," Snape called from in front. "The fault lies with yourself only, Riddle. You had more than enough opportunity to tell me the reason why Potter was making no progress with Occlumency, but instead you chose to put everyone at risk."
Tom glared at him but his lips remain tight. There was a reason why he had wanted this to remain quiet.
"But while we're on the specifics, how did you communicate with Longbottom?" Snape added as he broke pace to pivot and stare at Tom with contempt. In turn, Harry halted, his patchy hair swaying as it stuck up on end.
Snape was met with an equally cold stare from Tom.
"Longbottom?" Snape snapped inflicting his sole attention onto Neville instead.
Neville took one glance as Tom's piercing stare fixed onto him also. Neville shook his head hurriedly.
"H-Hedwig-" Neville stammered. "Harry's owl. Tom sent me a note-"
Tom didn't contradict him as he only shrugged a little too innocently at Snape. Hedwig had been held up in the Owlery for the past month, since they'd been confined in the tower and Snape probably knew it.
Fortunately, for the both of them, they had arrived and Snape's office and the potion's master attention was diverted momentarily. Laraine had also returned and she seemed agitated as she flicked about erratically.
Tom turned to Cyrilla again as she transformed into a sparrow.
"Stop it," Tom hissed, this time quieter so Snape couldn't hear them.
"I'm trying-" Cyrilla rushed.
"Well you're not trying hard enough," Tom snapped. "You won't transform again unless you want to answer to me, and trust me, I am more capable than Harry of seeing my promises through-"
Neville's eyes widened and Cyrilla squeaked, finally settling in the form of a small mouse that burrowed deep into Neville's sleeve.
Laraine suddenly swooped low, catching Tom off guard as he jumped back, narrowly missing her sharp claws.
"Get in," Snape snapped as he floated Harry through the door.
Neville, who had never been to Snape's office was torn between being terrified and absolutely amazed as he stared around the hundreds of ingredients and assorted potion bottles. Snape had obviously restocked since Harry had destroyed his last supply of potions. A cauldron was bubbling away in the corner spitting out little puffs of smoke which smelt oddly of tree sap.
Harry's head lolled forwards as Snape guided him across to the room and positioned him into a chair.
"Wait here," Snape hissed, his gaunt face twisting into something fowl as he dared Tom to disagree. Snape's office door shut with a distinctive sound of a heavy bolt being slot into place.
Tom however, needing no convincing as he fell into the chair beside Harry, his head falling into his shaking hands. His stomach coiled in horrible discomfort.
"I-I am sorry," Neville started quietly as Cyrilla poked her head out the end of his sleeve. "I know you said it was important-"
Neville's voice faltered at the ferocity in Tom's stare as his attention snapped to him.
"What did Fred and George actually tell you?" Tom demanded furiously. "I thought I made it clear that the consequences would be severe for all of us if you didn't do exactly as I said."
"T-they said that the Ministry would interfere if Cyrilla was a problem to Harry, but surely the Ministry wouldn't just take her from me-" Neville blurted out.
The pure look of cold amusement on Tom's face made Neville take a step back.
"The Ministry have centuries of experience dealing with modifying and destroying dæmons, any that are deemed to dangerous are either ripped apart or artificially changed. Why would your dæmon be any different?"
"Cyrilla's not dangerous," Neville sobbed. "She hasn't done anything."
"Does it matter?" Tom asked with a mock shrug. "The Ministry were more than prepared to rip me and Harry apart when we were eleven."
"But this has nothing to do with us! I thought Harry was meant to be okay around dæmons, the Daily Prophet said Harry could control himself-"
"Well with Cyrilla he can't," Tom said. "Harry's obsessed with her and there's little I can do about it."
Cyrilla gave a small squeak before scurrying up to sit on Neville's shoulder.
"When you say obsessed-"
Tom fixed the dæmon with a look of contempt.
"Harry finds other dæmons distracting, he naturally craves them, but it's nothing compared to his desire to devour you."
At the complete blank looks on Neville's and Cyrilla's faces Tom pinched the bridge of his nose to save from cursing the both of them.
"Harry visibly sees dæmons differently now," Tom said. "I don't understand it fully, but Harry describes your transformation as a burst of energy. One he can't resist."
Neville whimpered.
"So I'll give you one more change," Tom hissed at Cyrilla. "Pick your form now and stay that way. If she mimics other dæmons then Harry won't target her."
Cyrilla crawled down Neville's arm to settle in his open arms. And then in one blink, that Tom almost missed, she was a small grey rabbit with lop ears.
With this, Tom sunk back into his chair as he tried to ignore his trembling legs.
They all fell into a long drawn out silence. The only noise that disturbed their relative quiet was the hissing and spitting from the cauldron.
Neville skirted around the edge of Snape's desk, as Cyrilla sat cuddled tight in his arms.
"Harry's dæmon will be like Cyrilla won't she?" Neville asked softly. "That's what you're really worried about isn't it?"
This earned Neville a death glare as Tom's wand sparked. But Tom never got to speak.
There was a startling cry from above them. Tom, Neville and Cyrilla looked up surprised. Fawkes was perched on the end of a shelf, next to a very large purple bottle. If anything Tom's knuckles whitened as he stared up in fury at the dæmon.
As if in sync, Snape's office door opened. The headmaster was followed by Professor Lupin and a disgruntled looking Snape.
Lupin swore as he rushed straight across to examine Harry as Niamh prowled right up to Neville. Neville took a distinctive step back as Cyrilla remained dutiful in her rabbit form despite Niamh's very large sharp teeth.
"What, no Scrimgeour?" Tom said, tilting his head as he keep his wand very visibly in view. "I'm almost disappointed."
Dumbledore placed himself behind Snape's desk before he took off his half-moon spectacles and set them on the table in front of him.
"Alas, I'm afraid I'm reluctant to draw Rufus' away from his duties keeping our homes safe from Lord Voldemort. I did not feel it was necessary to burden him with such an insignificant matter."
Snape actually snorted at this, whereas Tom raised an eyebrow as he fixed Dumbledore with a very odd expression.
Dumbledore however ignored the both of them as he turned to Neville.
"Mr Longbottom, I believe you understand the severity of the situation?" Dumbledore said.
"Cyrilla won't change again," Neville started at once, his voice slightly higher pitch. "She was just scared."
Dumbledore clapped his hands together and smiled.
"Then, I see no reason not to continue with reintroducing Mr Potter to his classmates and allowing him to rejoin his lessons. Of course, Madam Pomfrey will be able to ensure a calming is on hand, just encase Harry feels a little too enthusiastic in agitating Cyrilla again."
"Stop it."
Tom's voice was deadly quiet. Cyrilla flinched in Neville's arms although she didn't change form.
Fawkes gave a low, musical cry as Dumbledore placed his hands in front of him and linked his fingers together. He sat back in his chair and fixed Tom with a pleasant stare, which only made this worse.
"Just stop pretending that everything is okay," Tom snapped. "It's unbecoming of you."
"I'm going to have to agree with Tom on this one, Albus," Lupin said as Niamh dug in her claws into the stone and growled up at Fawkes. "This is very bad. If the Ministry find Lyra first then it's just going to complicate things."
Fawkes outstretched his wings and swooped down to land on Snape's desk.
"Then perhaps put it this way," Dumbledore said as he picked his spectacles up and placed them on his crooked nose before stretching out his hand to run his fingers across Fawkes feathers. "By the time the Minister hears that there has been an incident, Harry will already be integrated back into the school and there will be no further conflict between yourselves and Mr Longbottom."
"You don't think Fudge will have a leg to stand on?" Lupin frowned.
"The Wizengamot have made it very clear that any further challenges on my guardianship will not be taken lightly," Dumbledore said as he now peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Cornelius cannot move again without substantially evidence and that will include keeping Lyra away from Harry."
Tom raised his eyebrow looking deeply unimpressed.
"Why are you doing this?" Tom said.
Dumbledore raised his hands holding his palms out in front of himself.
"As much of an asset you are, Tom, I am not wishing to use you to influence Lord Voldemort."
Tom actually laughed at this, a hard edge to his voice.
"I am merely very concerned for Harry's future," Dumbledore continued. "You know as well as I do that both the Ministry and Lord Voldemort will only use Harry as a weapon. I am asking for your cooperation only to ensure this does not happen, which involves no longer withholding significant information such as this."
Tom paused for a moment before he crossed his arms.
"I'm not promising you anything," Tom said stiffly. "But I will deal with Harry." Snape rolled his eyes at this.
Remus was looking deeply troubled now as he glanced at Harry who was still peacefully unconscious.
"Remus, would you please be so kind as to take Harry and Tom back up to their room," Dumbledore said firmly. "And Severus, if you could please attend to the third year Slytherin's in their common room? And if you would ask Professor McGonagall to do the same with the Gryffindor's."
A little taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, Lupin stood his face hard as he looked ready to argue. As it was he merely gripped his hand into Niamh's fur his expression set. Snape however didn't even look back as he swept from the room. His robes billowing around him as Laraine skirted around his head.
"Mr Longbottom, if you would stay for another minute there is something I wish to discuss with you?"
Neville looked practically startled, as Cyrilla twitched her nose.
"Best not to wake Harry," Dumbledore added as he waved his hand gesturing for Tom and Lupin to leave.
Tom's expression soured at this, but he merely flicked his wand causing Harry to rise gently into the air.
The dungeon's remained empty, as did the rest of the castle all the way up to the narrow staircase which led up to Tom and Harry's tower.
It was only when Tom was level with the third floor, did Lupin finally stop boring a hole in the back of his head.
"Tom, do you and Harry know where Lyra is?" Lupin pressed.
It was the way Lupin said it that nearly caught Tom breaking pace to stare at the werewolf. As it was Tom kept his footsteps even and steady up the narrow steps.
"What gives you that idea?" Tom said offhandedly.
Lupin however, wasn't having any of it as Niamh growled, suddenly darting forward to shove Tom hard against the stone to then block Tom from proceeding up the tower.
Tom crossed his arms as he fixed Lupin with a hard stare.
"Do you know?" Lupin pressed. "Tom, we can help. If you just tell us where Lyra is, Dumbledore would keep her safe, would keep you and Harry safe, I swear it to you."
A stony silence followed as Tom frowned. Remus Lupin was someone he had not figured out yet.
"Dumbledore isn't on the side of the Ministry," Lupin continued earnestly. "After all his attempts to keep you away from St Mungo's and out of Fudge's hands, I thought you would have realised you could have trusted him with Harry by now?"
Now Tom laughed, the glint in his eye showing genuine amusement.
"Trust Dumbledore? I have no reason to trust him."
"You need to before it's too late," Lupin said urgently. "Do you really think Lyra can remain hidden? The Ministry aren't the only ones looking for her and you know it."
Tom's expression curled into a dark smile at this.
"Professor Lupin," Tom's grin was disturbing. "Lyra's remained hidden for two years now, you know as much as I do that no one is going to find her."
"You're gambling on Lyra refusing to reveal herself," Lupin said. "Just because she hasn't done so already doesn't mean that circumstances won't change. You can't do this on your own! Believe it or not there are some of us who have Harry's best interests at heart."
"Really?" Tom said lightly, a little too delicately. "Someone like you for instance?"
Niamh was growling now, her hind legs raised as her snout wrinkled with bared teeth. Lupin however took a slight step back, his face suddenly oddly rigid.
"Yes, someone like me."
Tom took no notice of the snarling Niamh as he stepped around her, his own wand pushing Harry along gently. It was time to rock the boat a bit and find out who Remus Lupin really was.
"I trust Harry with no one," Tom called back. "Specially a werewolf who is friends with a Death Eater who's hunting Lyra."
It was raining heavily. A small pocket of dry air surrounded Riddle as he sat and watched from his spot on a deserted park bench.
The park was empty.
If Riddle really concentrated, he could see the slight outline of a shadow of a small creature sat underneath the swings. But he was no closer to retrieving the dæmon from when he'd first started.
"I know you can hear me," Riddle said quietly. His voice was barely loud enough that the rain drowned it out from carrying very far.
But Lyra showed no visible response to this.
Unnervingly, Potter's hadn't written back to him in weeks. Ever since term had started, Potter's brief but friendly enough notes had stopped completely. Of course, Riddle had taken great restraint from prodding the boy further. There was still the chance of course, that Tom had discovered the piece of diary parchment and removed it from Potter.
"I get it, you're still mad at me," Riddle said softly.
Still nothing.
Riddle twirled Potter's wand loosely in his fingers as he examined it closely, almost bored as he hummed. There had to be away to rekindle the bond that he and Potter had once shared. Something that would inevitable drive a wedge between Potter and Tom.
It was startling obvious as Riddle found a wicked grin suddenly spreading across his face. The answer was right in front of him.
"I guess I need to make it up to you," Riddle said.
And with a flash, something that trembled the very atoms that remained unknown to Riddle, Lyra had taken flight, her wings outstretched as she flew into the sky.