The morning light crept across the room casting long shadows across the wall. Harry sat crossed legged on the end of their large bed, oblivious to the sunrise. His entire focus wasn't even on the hundreds of souls that glistened so beautiful around him, nor the thin slither of a soul that Riddle's diary piece offered. Instead he watched silently as Tom twisted in the bedcovers, lips slightly ajar as sweat creased his brow.
"Harry-"
Tom's voice was the barest of whispers, but the terror and sheer desperation was only growing with each jaggered breath. Harry crept forwards slowly, his knees indenting into the mattress. Tom flinched as Harry's cold fingers wound around his wrist.
"Tom, wake up-"
But Tom merely tossed over and pressed his forehead harder into the pillow as he let out a strangled cry. Harry released his hold abruptly, and Tom's immediate discomfort dissipated.
Harry slipped from the bed, and instead curled his fingers carefully around Tom's wand that had been placed on the bedside table. It didn't require any effort as the wand sparked violently and erupted with an almighty boom.
Tom shot up, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly at the sudden influx of light. His hand moved to the bedside table only for his nails to scrape against wood. As if by instinct, Tom's intense gaze settled at once on Harry.
"My wand, Harry?" Tom said softly as he held his hand out palm open.
Harry passed it over with no hesitation, the singe marks were stinging against his frozen skin.
"You know I can't use it properly."
But Tom still took it hurriedly, pocketing it as he slipped his feet out of bed. Tom flinched against the ice cold floor before his gaze fixated again on Harry.
"Are you watching me when I sleep?"
"There's not much else to do," Harry shrugged. "And I like doing it. Anyway, what were you dreaming about?"
"Nothing, it's just a stupid nightmare," Tom said, but there was no hiding the flash of terror that passed between their bond.
Harry made his way across to their desk. The forbidden potion was already there waiting, just like it had been every morning over the last week or so. Harry didn't hesitate as he seized it, eagerly pressing it to his decayed mouth as the rush of satisfaction consumed him. The castle faded to black as the surrounding dæmons disappeared under Tom's control.
"You said my name," Harry said after a short pause.
Tom shifted off the bed to slip his arms around Harry's waist, when Harry drew away Tom gripped the front of his shirt, tugging him around to face him.
"Harry don't think on it. I could lose count of the times you say my name while you sleep."
"I hardly sleep anymore," Harry bit out. "But that's not the point. My nightmares with you weren't normal, just tell me-"
Tom's arms fell away before he turned and absently started packing Harry's books into his school bag.
"Tom-"
"It really is nothing, Harry," the bright smile which Tom flicked him took Harry completely off guard, even the warmth that radiated between them was overwhelmingly normal. "Come on, let's go get some breakfast."
It was the same every morning, as soon as Harry and Tom entered the Great Hall, an angry buzz would ripple around the room. Those sitting closest to the entrance would shift away, clutching their dæmons tight to their chests or they would hide them beneath the long house tables. The effect would continue as Harry and Tom walked down the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.
Tom appeared unconcerned as he tugged Harry across to sit just down the table from a young red haired girl. Ginny Weasley looked startled and her dæmon stomped his hooves in protest but neither of them moved.
"I told you Galian was fine," Tom said as he helped himself to some pumpkin juice. "Riddle didn't do any lasting damage."
"Mmm," Harry mumbled, but his attention was elsewhere.
Neville was sitting right at the end of the Gryffindor table, Cyrilla was perched on his lap as she sniffed at his breakfast cereal.
"Harry-" Tom warned as he drew Harry's attention away.
"Neville always sits as close to the teachers table as possible," Harry muttered as he stabbed his fork into his lacklustre bacon.
"For good reason," Tom said as he pulled out Me, Myself and My Dæmon from Harry's school bag.
But Cyrilla, as Tom had informed him, would not be changing form again and this had remained true over the last few days of their newfound freedom.
Snape had been reluctant at first to let Harry and Tom roam around unsupervised, particularly after what had happened in the potions class but Dumbledore had apparently insisted that he was satisfied appropriate arrangements were in place.
The Gryffindor table remained vacant around where Harry and Tom sat, and this usually remained the case for every meal. Today however, Ron and Hermione were too preoccupied with each other to even remember to sit slightly further back from Harry.
"That cat has got it out for Scabbers," Ron snapped as Sephronia bared her large sharp teeth at Ramiron.
Ramiron however, merely hopped up onto the bench beside where Hermione had sat and swiped his tail back and forth. The otter opened his mouth, yawning, clearly unperturbed by Ron's and Sephronia's concerns as Ramiron started sniffing around the sardines.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione said. "All cats chase rats."
"He needs rest and relaxation," Ron snarled. "And that cat is giving him nothing but stress. I swear if anything happens to him-"
"Scabbers hasn't been well since last year," Hermione said stiffly as she started to pile toast onto her plate. "It has nothing to do with Crookshanks."
"What's wrong with Scabbers?" Harry asked.
"He's been sick since school closed last year," Ron said glaring at Hermione.
"Well he's an old rat, isn't he, Ron?" Hermione said. "Anything could happen."
"Exactly, which is why that bloody cat needs dealing with," Ron snapped.
"Crookshanks doesn't know any better," Hermione said. "He doesn't know it's wrong!"
"Well that's alright then, isn't it? Let's just all sit around and wait for Scabbers to be murdered," Ron jabbed his fork at her.
"Crookshanks isn't going to murder Scabbers!" Hermione protested. "You're overreacting, Ron."
"Overreacting am I?" Ron demanded as he went a funny shade of purple, but he didn't bother to wait for an answer. "I'll just get Seph to just go for Crookshanks then, see how you like it." Ron stood abruptly and grabbed his school bag and flung in over his shoulder. Without so much a look back at Hermione, and one last growl from Sephronia he stormed over to sit with Ginny.
Hermione sighed as Ramiron turned his attention from the sardines enough to rub against her arm.
"It'll be alright," he said. "He'll calm down."
Hermione didn't smile as she pushed her own breakfast around, almost as dejectedly as Harry had been doing but her mood didn't last long.
"Oh, I was doing some reading, Harry," Hermione said as she reached down to rummage in her school bag. She pulled out a heavy tome which had a deep velvet cover with the words 'A Guide to Incurable Cures' written across the cover. "And there's some really interesting theories about how to reverse permanent magical damage. I thought you would have been interested, Tom?" Hermione prodded as Tom idly flicked a page of his own book.
Tom's expression was surprisingly hard as he looked up. Hermione flicked to a page with a set of intricate diagrams.
"The whole idea revolves around restoring what you have lost by replacing it with an exact replica of how you should be. Although I guess that's where the complications come in. In most cases a person copies another limb to restore the other, but you would have to replicate your past self. Maybe if you have a time turner..."
"Do you understand dark magic, Hermione?" Tom said.
"I-well no, of course not," Hermione spluttered indignantly as Ramiron bared his small sharp teeth at Tom.
"Then whatever you have to say isn't worth listening to," Tom said as he turned back to his book.
Hermione sniffed, before grabbing the book and shoving it back into her bag.
"I actually got the idea from Voldemort, if you must know."
Tom actually glanced back up at this.
"Well Voldemort created you and Riddle didn't he?" Hermione continued. "And I was trying to work out why. And well you're both replicas of Voldemort at certain points in his past, well Riddle more so than you because he actually remembers things, but anyway-"
"What's your point, Hermione?" Tom said, and there was something in his tone which implied Hermione was treading on dangerous territory.
Ramiron shifted at this, suddenly darting up against Hermione as if warning her not to continue. She however seemed undeterred as she ran her hand across Ramiron's fur and jutted out her chin.
"Well if anything ever happened to Voldemort, he would be able to use either of you to restore himself, according to theory anyway. You never did go into deal about how Voldemort got his body back-"
There was a long silence as Tom surveyed Hermione properly. Voldemort had used Riddle's diary in the graveyard to do just that. Tom seemed to be toying with what to say before he finally settled on something that Harry knew wasn't his initial response.
"So you thought Harry could do the same?" Tom said much too lightly.
"Theoretically, yes," Hermione said before she retorted coolly. "But of course, as you so obviously pointed out, I don't know anything about the dark arts."
"I told you we shouldn't have told them about Riddle," Harry muttered as he stirred around his cereal while he chanced another glance at Cyrilla.
Now Tom's attention snapped to Harry's as he looked down right annoyed.
"Well if you weren't going to talk to me about Riddle, I thought you should at least talk to someone," he snapped.
"I don't need to talk to anyone," Harry said stiffly as he thought briefly of the crumpled diary page still tucked into his pocket. It had been blank for weeks, and he wasn't sure if he was comforted by this or not.
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said, as Ramiron as she pawed against his arm. "Tom's probably right. What you went through was traumatic and you sought intimate comfort from someone that wasn't your dæmon-"
Hermione flinched under the stare that she was suddenly under from Harry. Her eyes widened as cold descended upon her, destroying all warmth. Harry was almost tempted to draw a rattling breath, but the effect was already enough.
Tears in her eyes, Hermione scooped up Ramiron who had curled up to be as small as possible. His small body was shaking in terror as she cradled him close and fled, leaving her school bag still at the table.
Tom placed his warm hand in Harry's icy cold and gave it a hard, slightly painful, squeeze.
"You shouldn't have done that."
The rest of the day followed much a similar pattern as the days before. In the corridors dæmons actively shifted away from Harry. Classes themselves remained interesting and bearable, if a little hard to grasp. Harry had watched in envy as Tom swirled his wand around, performing an engorgement charm perfectly on his half dozen slugs he'd been tasked with.
For the first time, it had been potions class that Harry had enjoyed the most. Despite Snape breathing over their shoulders for the most part of the lesson at least Harry could participate. Tom of course, took care with stirring the potion with several flicks of his wand, but Harry was allowed to cut up the newt eyes and squash the beetles.
The fact that Harry wasn't able to perform magic did not stop the teachers piling on homework for all the second year work Harry and Tom had missed, of course Harry had attempted to catch up over the summer, but he'd been so preoccupied with trying not to devour demons.
The rest of the school remained very conscious of this fact and continued to hide their dæmons away at every opportunity. Needless to say, it was worse than second year when everyone had briefly thought Tom was attacking students. Now people were more afraid of Harry than they were Tom.
The exception was Oliver Wood who approached Harry at the Gryffindor table Wednesday evening. His dæmon, a small jackdaw with shiny black plumage, was just as irrational as she peered close to Harry.
"Hey Potter, are you still interested in being on the team?" Wood asked eagerly.
Harry's mind flashed back to last year. He'd never actually gotten a chance to play in his first Quidditch match, Riddle had seen to that.
"Aren't you afraid I'll attack someone?"
Wood blinked twice as his dæmon made a small kaarh!
"Of course not, if people are afraid of approaching you, that's a bonus," Wood said. His face was deadly serious. "It's the perfect strategy if your seeker can have an uninterrupted game. Particularly if the beaters don't want to touch you."
Harry glanced at Tom, who shrugged and didn't offer him any opinion.
"Yeah, okay then," Harry said turning back to Wood.
Wood beamed at him.
"Quidditch practice starts at six, I can't wait to tell the others," Wood said as his dæmon took flight and soared around his head. "We'll have to get you a decent broom though, I'll speak to Professor McGonagall and see what we can do. Meet you at the Quidditch pitch alright?"
"There's something very wrong with him," Tom said as he watched the small jackdaw soar away over Wood's head.
Harry and Tom stepped into the Quidditch changing rooms to find five people fully dressed in their Quidditch robes waiting with their dæmons.
"Harry, Tom," Fred was on his feet immediately as Celendia and Demetria bounded around his legs. "Great to have you on the team, finally."
"It's not like Wood to be the last one here," Katie Bell said as her dæmon, a hare with the wildest looking fur shot up in her lap at the sight of Harry. "Do you think we should get warmed up?"
"And miss Wood's pre-warm up pep talk," George said. "Wouldn't dream of it. Here, Harry. You can use one of the school broomsticks."
They had only just picked out a broom for Harry when Wood finally entered. His jackdaw soared into the room and landed on his shoulder.
"Right, good, you're all here," Wood said as he beamed at Harry. "Sorry, I got a bit held up, McGonagall wanted a word or two."
"What about?" Katie asked.
"Not a lot," Wood shrugged as his dæmon stretched her wings. "Just about making sure that we shouldn't antagonise Harry and how using him to scare the Slytherin's is not good tactics, but I'm sure they'll be some flexibility in that?"
Tom raised his eyebrow at this, before shooting Harry a warning glance as Harry merely grinned.
"Now there's an idea," George Weasley beamed. "Here's a tip. Watch out for Kestra, she's ruthless and if she gets close enough to the quaffle, then that's a sure point to Slytherin."
"Which ones Kestra?" Harry asked.
"The vulture," Fred said. "She belongs to Flint, the Slytherin Captain."
"Of course, don't forget Cedric Diggory in Hufflepuff. He's got a kingfisher called Arina," George added. "Basically, anyone with a dæmon that can fly is the biggest threat. That's why professional Quidditch players all have birds or something similar that can fly; their dæmons can interact with the game."
"Apart from Victor Krum, the Bulgaria seeker," Angelina Johnson said offhandedly. "He's the only professional play who has a dæmon that can't fly."
"So you and Wood are our best players?" Harry asked as he spied Angelina's sparrow perched on her shoulder.
"We're the ones the beaters will target first," Angelina said. "So if you could deal with them-"
"I really don't think we should be encouraging Harry," Alicia Spinnet said as her chinchilla squeaked and burrowed deep into her folded arms. "I mean, what's stopping him from getting one of us?"
Fred waved his hand, unconcerned.
"I wouldn't worry too much, Harry's got to get past Tom first."
"But that's not impossible?" Katie added as her hare pounded his back legs against the bench.
"Nah," Fred continued, "If Harry could devour Tom he would have done so already, right?"
Both Harry and Tom's attention snapped to Fred and this, and from the sudden flinch of every dæmon in the compact room it was clear Harry was scarier.
"What do you mean by that?" Tom asked sharply.
Fred shrugged, but it was clear that Fred had slipped up as George elbowed him in the side.
"Well, you know you're-" he stopped, clearly struggling for a correct set of words. "You're basically Who Know Who, so you're more than capable of fighting off Harry."
"That's not what you were going to say," Tom said coolly.
"Right that's enough," Wood said loudly and suddenly as he jumped forwards to grab his own broomstick. "Let's go. We don't want to waste the rest of the light."
The pitch was dry and empty. Several large poles, set at equal increments around the perimeter, protruded from the ground and reached high up into the air. Each one had a thin red line painted across it marking the dæmon line that should not be crossed. Aside from Fred and George's dæmon's, the rest of the quidditch teams dæmons were small enough to fit inside the small baskets that hung from the back of the broomsticks. Angelina Johnson's sparrow was already flitting around high above their heads, eager for her to join her in the sky.
Harry really wished he would be able to see Fred and George's bonds to their dæmons, just to see how it broke apart when one twin separated from their dæmons to fly above the dæmon line.
"Right, Harry. It's best if you take it easy and just get readjusted," Wood instructed. "You've probably not been on a broom in awhile? Just do a few laps around the pitch and then I'll release the snitch."
Harry kicked off hard from the ground eagerly, the cold air rushing past him. Tom locked his arms tighter around Harry's waist as they soared higher still, so the rest of the team were small pinpricks below. It felt wonderful to be so outside again. The weeks since summer had ended felt an age ago.
Harry did a couple of loops of the pitch before he drew his broom to circle in tight loops high above the edge of the pitch.
"I still can't see them," Harry said dejectedly as he scanned the Hogwarts grounds. The sun had nearly sunk below the horizon and long shadows were already creeping across the expanse of grass. Harry could just about make out the entrance gates and the large winged boars that framed it.
"You're meant to be looking for the snitch," Tom yelled as he gripped his arms tighter around Harry's waist. "Not dementors."
Harry pretended not to hear Tom above the wind.
"But they should be at the edge of the grounds," Harry said. "We can't be that far away. Maybe if you let me peek, just for a second-"
"You won't see dementors with your dead eye, Harry. They aren't dæmons," Tom shouted.
Harry dived the broom down slightly as Tom lent into him to stay their balance. They circled down towards the far end of the goal posts from where Wood was currently knocking the quaffle away. Lower down, the wind was less intense, but Harry still had to swerve the broom so that it didn't push them both sideways.
"Well we should get closer then so I can see them normally," Harry said. The sharp pinch around Harry's waist told him what Tom thought of that idea.
"Don't you dare, Harry. Just forget about them," Tom said.
"They're like me!" Harry said as sudden gust of wind caused the broom to shift sideways a couple of feet.
"No," Tom said, and this time the harsh tone in his voice had disappeared. Instead his voice was quiet that Harry had to dip the broom even lower so that he could hear him. "I've told you before. You are so much more than they can ever be."
Harry felt a pang of regret and fear shoot through him, but he didn't know whether that was from him or Tom.
"They just want to fill the void their dæmon left," Harry tried. "But I guess you wouldn't understand that."
There was a distinct change in Tom's tone as it sharpened.
"Harry, I feel how desperately you crave dæmons. Don't pretend that is anything of your desire for Lyra. They are utterly incomparable."
Far beneath them, Wood had missed the quaffle that Angelina Johnson had just thrown. Wood's attention was clearly elsewhere as a look of outrage crossed his face.
Following Wood's line of sight, Harry and Tom stared down at a group of people and their dæmons. The Slytherin Quidditch team had just entered the pitch with broomsticks flung over their shoulders.
"Shall we go and see what all the fuss is about?" Tom said.
Reluctantly, Harry spun the broom around, swooping back across the pitch to where his fellow teammates had come to land.
"I booked the pitch, Flint," Wood was shouting at a bulky Slytherin who had a large vulture perched atop his broomstick.
Flint ignored Wood.
"So it's true then," Flint said with a nasty smile as Harry landed and Tom slipped off the broom. "Potter's back on the team."
"None of your business," Wood snapped as Atlas, his dæmon dived at Flint's vulture. "Now get lost before we lose the light!"
"Plenty of room for all of us, Wood," Flint said as Kestra, his own dæmon remained unphased from the swooping of the smaller jackdaw.
"Just get lost, you can use the pitch tomorrow!" Wood yelled.
"Actually, I don't think we will," Flint said. "Derrick, Bole, looks like you've got a few people for target practice."
Two very burley looking guys held two very long beater clubs. One had a very large tarantulas dæmon on his shoulder while the other had what looked like a turtle carefully poking out the top of his pocket.
Celendia and Demetria jumped forwards snarling at the same time as a coyote and a lemur dæmon from the Slytherin chasers attacked.
It happened instantly, with no warning. The four dæmons who had about to collide in a world of biting, hissing and spitting, flew apart from each other. Celendia, Demetria and the Coyote yelped, while the lemur hissed and spat as they were thrown none to gently back to the ground.
"What the-" Fred started.
Tom had his wand out and he looked distinctly unimpressed.
"I'm sure we can settle this far more reasonable manor," he said coolly.
"This has nothing to do with you," Flint snapped.
Tom tutted.
"Now that's not strictly true. This is a fight between dæmons isn't it, I'm hardly overstepping my boundaries?" Tom said lightly.
Flint gaped at this as his vulture made a horrible grunting sort of noise. But Tom didn't care as he suddenly smiled, his attention turning to the youngest Slytherin in the group.
"Draco-"
Adara sunk back into Draco's hood as Draco shook his head by the merest fraction.
"Since you're here, why don't we have a few laps around the pitch, it's getting too dark to spot the snitch anyway. The rest of you can go."
There was silence as the Slytherin's stood routed to the spot. Even the Grffindor's looked stunned at the clear command Tom had just given.
Flint's nasty smile turned into a nasty scowl.
"You're not the Dark Lord. You said so in the prophet," he snapped.
Tom spun his wand idly between his fingers.
"You're right, I'm only a piece," he said, his voice deadly soft. "But imagine how much damage I could still do to you."
Flint jerked his head. Although it was clear from the slight bulge in Flint's eyes and the sudden flight of his dæmon that Flint was unnerved.
"You wouldn't dare," Flint said.
"No, you're right," Tom admitted, and instead he pointed his wand upwards to where Flint's dæmon was now circling above their heads. "Harry, are you hungry?"
The gasp was audible from both the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams as they all looked down right terrified.
Flint's vulture narrowly missed Tom's curse. Flint gave a terrified scream as he drew his own wand as the rest of the team scattered, each taking several distinct steps away from Harry and Tom.
"What are you doing?" Flint screeched.
"Harry is only stable because of me," Tom said with a smile as he fired another curse off that narrowly missed again. "And he does get very bored without having any souls to devour. Of course, if you don't want to be here, you are more than welcome to leave."
Flint scowled, clearly wanting to disagree as his dæmon made a terrified screeching sound. But it seemed to dawn on him that raising his wand was a fight he would never win. He chanced a glance at Harry, as did everyone else.
Harry merely grinned at him. The grass around his feet had started to frost and he was about to draw breath.
"Let's go," Flint grunted suddenly.
The Slytherin team looked relived as several of them retreated without so much as a backwards glance.
"Draco, you'll stay won't you?" Tom added, just as Draco was about to take a step away.
Draco had flushed bright red, but he didn't complain as the rest of the Slytherin's turned tail and disappeared back into the changing rooms.
"How was that?" Tom said as he pocked his wand and turned to Wood. "You did say you wanted them scared, was that too much?"
It took a moment of realisation before Wood's face shifted to absolute glee. Even Fred and George were looking downright impressed despite the sheer discomfort their dæmons were still displaying.
"That was brilliant," Wood said.
"Although that's exactly what McGonagall was warning against," Angelina frowned as her sparrow cheeped. "She won't let Harry play if we're not careful."
"Technically, that was Tom scaring them off," George said. "Harry didn't do anything."
Harry crossed his arms and glared at all of them.
"I could get them if I wanted to."
Tom ruffled Harry's hair as he tugged him closer, calming the chill that Harry was projecting. Harry's words however, weren't lost on the rest of the Gryffindor team who, apart from Wood, still looked a little unsettled at this.
"We'll catch up with you later," Tom said as he jerked his head for Draco to follow him and Harry.
Draco and Harry hadn't spoken since Harry and Tom had returned back to classes and it was clear from the sullen look Draco was portraying that he had been avoiding them.
"How's your father?" Tom asked when they were several feet away the others.
A brief but furious look crossed Draco's face, before he seemed to bite his lip. Adara hissed at Harry, her white fur sticking up on end as she emerged on Draco's shoulder
"Fine."
"What's your problem?" Harry said.
When Draco promptly ignored Harry, Tom actually rolled his eyes and answered for him.
"Draco's jumping to conclusions."
"I am not," Draco blushed furiously hard but this seemed to be enough to entice Malfoy.
"My father can't come home because of you," Draco snapped as he jabbed his finger at Harry. "It's all over the prophet that he's a Death Eater."
"Are you serious?" Harry gaped as he merely looked at Tom. Tom however merely shrugged. "You think I told the Ministry?"
"Well if you didn't, who did?" Draco said. He threw down his broomstick, and crossed his arms, glaring.
"For crying out loud," Harry said, turning on the spot. "Come on, Tom. I can't be bothered with this."
"You're admitting it then," Draco said as Adara hissed at Harry again. "I guess you've chosen your side then."
Harry froze at this and this time Tom did nothing to immediately stop the chill that suddenly descended across the pitch.
"I-" Draco stammered, as Adara practically cowered, her sharp claws almost tearing through Draco's spotless Quidditch robes. "I just meant-"
"I know what you meant," Harry said, revering in the terror that Draco was suddenly under. Draco staggered as Adara pressed against him, her small form nothing but petrified. As if Draco could do anything to protect her.
Harry took a deliberate step towards Draco. He could still devour dæmons, even though he wasn't driven by temptation.
"I didn't mean-" Draco stammered as Adara practically cried. "I just, I misunderstood-"
"Clearly," Harry said coolly.
Tom put his hand on Harry's arm.
"That's enough, Harry," he said softly. "I think Draco got the hint."
Harry relented, almost looking bored now as he eyed Adara.
"So if you didn't tell, then how-?" Draco just about managed.
"The Ministry stole my memories while I was in St Mungo's if you must know," Harry said. "It's not my fault they found out about your father."
Draco made a small oh noise, as he suddenly looked distinctly sheepish.
"So if your father is no longer at home, then where is Voldemort now?" Tom asked.
"As if I know that," Draco said as he wrinkled his nose. "Just the Ministry are now watching the house, just encase he does come back."
"Good," Tom said as if that settled everything. "Now are we going to fly, Harry needs all the practice he can get before the next match."
Affronted, Draco opened his mouth to argue, before he relented his shoulders sagging as he picked up his broom. Adara however looked like she'd rather be anywhere else then trapped in a small cage near Harry, but she still dutifully curled up into the small basket which hung from Draco's broom.
"Fine, but don't expect me to show you all my best techniques," Draco said.
Harry grinned.
"Too late, you taught me them all last summer, remember."
It was Friday afternoon when Professor Lupin caught up with Harry and Tom as they made their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts. So far the lessons themselves had been pretty interesting, but Lupin had hinted that a practical lesson would be coming up.
"I think it would be best if you sit this one out, Harry," Lupin said as Niamh prowled behind them.
"It's not like I'm allowed a wand yet," Harry said bitterly. And Tom's wand wasn't a suitable substitute, but Lupin didn't need to know that.
The classroom was already full when they entered and Lupin took no time in depositing his own bag before pulling out his wand.
"Right then," Professor Lupin said. "If you'd follow me. You won't need any textbooks, only your wands."
The class piled out chatting excitedly.
Tom deliberately waved Hermione on as he and Harry hung back behind the rest of the class where Ron had been chatting to Seamus and Dean.
"I was meaning to ask you about your brothers," Tom said as they walked along the corridor. "Fred and George seem to know a lot about other people's dæmons."
Harry who had been watching Neville and Cyrilla walk next to Lupin and Niamh up in front, suddenly looked expectantly at Ron.
"I think Fred and George know every single dæmon in Hogwarts," Ron said. "Half the time they only refer to a dæmon which is hard enough to keep track of if you don't know who they belong to."
"They also know every secret passage way too, don't they? Why is that?" Tom asked.
Ron shrugged as Sephronia wagged her tail.
"Beats me, I've asked them about it before but they just say I'd know as much as them if I stopped studying and spent more time roaming the castle instead."
Seamus snorted at this, as his fox that was trotting alongside Sephronia flicked her tail amused.
"I don't know if it's possible to study any less, otherwise I think we'd all know Hogwart's secrets."
As Ron, Dean and Seamus burst back into chatter, Harry slowed so that he and Tom were tailing behind the rest of the class.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked.
"Do you remember when Fred and George came up to our room in the tower?" Tom said.
Harry glared at this.
"I remember that you knocked me out."
Tom smiled abashed as he pulled Harry's hand into his own.
"Not that, remember they spoke as if they could see dæmons, like you. I think they mentioned a map-"
"I wouldn't need a map if I could see still properly," Harry said begrudging as he looked back at Cyrilla.
"I know you don't," Tom said, before he dropped his voice to a whisper. "But you know as much as I do that Fred and George know more than they should."
Harry didn't say anything to this. Tom still remained hidden to his dead eye, and Harry had a funny feeling that Riddle would be the same too.
Lupin came to a halt outside a room Harry and Tom, and what appeared from the rest of the classes expression, had never been in before.
He rapped his knuckles on the door twice before pushing the heavy door open. It was the staff room and it was empty. It was a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched chairs.
"Now then," Lupin said, beckoning the class towards the other end of the room where there was nothing but an old wardrobe. As Niamh prowled close to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.
"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin said calmly, as a few dæmons shrunk behind legs or burrowed into jumpers. "There's a Boggart in there."
"There's a Boggart in here," Seamus whispered as Ondine his fox flicked her busy tail towards Cyrilla who hopped around the bottom of Neville's feet.
Professor Lupin who didn't hear this remark continued.
"Now, can anyone tell me what a Boggart is?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air, disturbing Ramiron who had been perched on her shoulder.
"A Boggart is a shapeshifter, sir. Although it's different from what Cyrilla can do." Hermione shot a nasty glare at Seamus. "A Boggart has no definitive form and takes the shape of that which is most feared by the person who encounters it."
Lupin nodded.
"Very good, Hermione. Five points to Gryffindor."
Hermione beamed.
"The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind," Lupin explained. "The thing that really finishes a Boggart off is laughter. So I would like you all to take a moment to think of what scares you the most, and imagine how you could force your fear to appear comical."
Harry's mind immediately flashed to the silver guillotine. Tall and imposing, with its sharp blade indiscriminate to any bond between human and dæmon. But the threat of the guillotine was lost on Harry now. Tom and Lyra had already been severed and split apart from him before. No, there was something far more chilling. Something that Harry had and still refused to think on.
Beside Harry, Tom squeezed his hand tightly, and shook his head slightly. Any resentment of not being permitted a wand and being allowed to participate left Harry in an instant. It was impossible to make any of his worst fears amusing.
"Right, if we're already. Everyone take note of the charm, Riddikulus, that's right say it nice and clearly," Lupin said. "Now please take a step forwards and draw your wands."
As the class made a small cluster around the violently shaking wardrobe, Tom took Harry's hand and tugged him to the side of the staff room. They sunk into some old moth eaten chairs that were surprisingly comfortable.
"Are you okay?" Tom said as they watched the wardrobe fling open. Parvati's Boggart had already turned into a bloodstained, bandaged mummy and was advancing upon her with its arms raised.
Harry shrugged as he thought back to the pensieve and his blackened memories that the ministry had examined.
"Riddikulus!" Parvati cried as her small Bengal tiger roared.
Crack!
The Boggart stumbled, its long bandages unravelling as it spun disorientated before it took another step forwards and fell in a heap of rotting limbs.
"Excellent," Lupin said. "Seamus, go!"
Crack!
Seamus' Boggart was a woman with floor length black hair and a horrible green tinged face. The banshee opened her mouth and a sound that scratched Harry's very being filled the room, a wailing shriek that would never stop.
"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus.
The sound burst, as the banshee made a disgusting gurgling noise as she clutched helplessly at her throat.
"Harry-"
Harry turned back to Tom who lent forwards and grasped both of Harry's bandaged rotten hands in his own.
"Your greatest fear, it's not a memory is it?" Tom said quietly.
The chill that crept over Harry was enough confirmation for Tom to understand. But Tom didn't react, he merely ran his fingers over Harry's palm.
"If it helps, I don't remember the Basilisk separating us," Harry said. It was meant to be a joke, but it came out only like a dry rasp.
"I don't either," Tom said quietly, and his eyes shut failing to hide the sudden pained expression that crossed his face. "But I remember waking up and you weren't there-"
Crack!
Across the room several people screamed as the Boggart transformed into a giant spider. It's pincers were clicking with the most horrendous sound.
Tom's hand squeezed Harry's again, tighter this time, pulling his attention back to him.
"Harry, you understand what you are capable of don't you?" Tom said.
The tone in his voice was enough to hold Harry's attention.
"I can devour souls."
Tom shook his head, the urgency in his next sentence frighting.
"You know that's not what I meant. You know how you make people never feel happy again-"
Tom broke off as Lupin shouted.
"Great, Neville you next."
Neville took a single step forwards, he was shaking so hard as the large spider that Ron had just pulled the legs off rolled towards him.
Crack!
A tall cloaked imposing figure appeared. Its face was completely hidden beneath a black hood and a scabbed rotten hand protruded forwards. Neville gave a terrified sob as his wand clattered to the floor. Cyrilla froze, her bunny eyes wide as if caught in headlights.
Tom's fingers slipped from Harry's as he stood abruptly. No one else had moved, but the wave of terror that rippled through each and every dæmon was enough to indicate that this cloaked figure was a true monstrosity.
And with a burst, that tremendous flash of light that Harry could not deny, Cyrilla transformed. Harry knew nothing but the desperate longing to retrieve that beautiful light.
Niamh roared to life, Lupin's patronus flicked into existance as she bounded with unrelenting determination towards Harry. She caught him hard, and Harry's chest seared in a boom of pain. Harry fell, Niamh's weight and impenetrable light crushing down so that he could not see or feel any other dæmon. Harry couldn't breathe or think. Only exist as Niamh's light engulfed him.
And then almost as quickly as it had happened, Niamh was gone with a sudden loud yelp as she transformed back into her normal form. Only, Harry could see her clearly, and every part of the werewolf was displayed only to his dead eye.
But Harry's attention could not be held, Cyrilla wasn't stopping, her form was flashing from rabbit to squirrel, frog, cat as Neville's Boggart advanced towards him.
Tom's wand was raised, but this time it was pointing at Harry. But the only thing that happened was a slight brush of wind which flickered just in front of Harry face. Harry scrambled up, and immediately found himself stopped by an invisible wall, separating him from the rest of the class.
People were scattered everywhere, but it was Lupin who had collapsed, for he had not escaped unscathed from Tom's assault on Niamh and there was still the Boggart which had raised its two grimy hands.
Tom tore across the room and shoved Neville hard, momentarily startling Harry from the rush of the touch that was forbidden. It was enough to shake the uncontrollable drive to destroy as Harry's vision flicked to black. Neville fell sideways out of the way of the Boggarts view, leaving only Tom in its path.
Crack!
But this time the class started muttering in terrified confusion. The Boggart hadn't changed.
The creature remained towering over them. Only this time, it was Tom who was frozen, staring up at it, his face twisted in pure terror as a cold so penetrating shot through Harry.
And then the creature raised a rotting, glistening hand and gripped the black hood and pulled it back.
The class screamed as dæmons scarped. Harry stared, sickness rising in his throat as he took in every aspect of the rotting face.
It was him.
Both of his eyes were black and there was only a hollow gaping mouth, twisted in some desperate hunger. What little hair remained was patchy amongst decayed skin. The Boggart Harry took a long, slow, rattling breath, as if it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. The decrepit cloak twisted around his almost skeletal body as a cold like nothing else swept across Harry. The terror was so real, so intense, as if the guillotine was right before him, as if Riddle had just left him and every inch of Harry's existence had deteriorated. Harry could feel his right eye being gouged open all over again as evil consumed him from within.
"Here!" Professor Lupin had recovered and he physically threw himself between Tom and the Boggart, although Niamh let out a pained bark as she remained curled up in a heap on the floor.
Crack!
The Boggart Harry had vanished. But the despair had not. Harry drew his own terrifying rattling breath.
Tom didn't move. Didn't react as Harry's despair stole all remaining happiness from the room.
"Class dismissed. Everybody out now!"
Lupin didn't have to tell them twice. The staff room all but emptied as Lupin jabbed his wand towards the Boggart which had taken the form of a small white orb. The Boggart shot back into the wardrobe as the door banged shut behind it.
Hermione lingered, but one growl from Lupin's dæmon and she too fled from the room taking Ramiron with her.
Harry could still feel the numb cold seeping throughout as he understood the cold harsh reality of what he was capable of inflicting.
"That's a dementor," Harry said, his voice horse and barely loud enough to carry sound. All the anticipation of seeing them had disappeared and it had been replaced with the most intense deep rooted fear. The same fear that Tom must feel every time Harry's despair got out of hand, but now there was a more pressing matter.
Tom was pale and Harry stepped across where the invisible wall had been only moments before. Harry grabbed Tom, spinning him round. Tom's lifeless eyes peered into Harry's own.
"I don't understand," Harry's rotten hand fell away, Tom alone he thought wouldn't react like everyone else, but now those long drawn out nights where Tom couldn't sleep made such horrible sense. "A-are you afraid of me?"