Harry was locked in what could only have been Ron's bedroom. Nearly every surface was a violent shade of orange, covered in Chudley Cannon memorabilia; the bed spread, the walls, even the ceiling. Wizards and Witches zoomed across posters and waved energetically from their broomsticks.
Several floors below, there was a small cluster of dæmons. The jack rabbit had departed almost immediately, but in the Weasley's small kitchen there remained a honey badger, a weasel and most importantly, a pine marten.
Harry's dead eye watched hauntingly, his hunger growing and thoughts consumed. The longing need to devour itched untameable and he struggled against his restraints.
The thick bonds around his wrists were taut, and no matter how much Harry twisted or tugged they did not come loose. He wrenched at the the suffocating cover over his mouth, pulling it away so that he could draw a deep rattling breath.
His prey was the only thing that mattered.
Crossing the room, Harry tugged at the door knob, his good eye looking around for something, anything that he could use for leverage. With his hands bound however, it was going to prove difficult.
Just as Harry had retrieved a broken coat hanger and was about to wedge it into the lock, the door slammed open, nearly dislodging from its hinges.
Harry scrambled backwards, startled that no other dæmon had been visible.
Severus Snape stood in the threshold, black eyes narrowing at the sight. Before Harry could say anything, Snape took several long strides to close any distance between them and without sparing Harry any comfort, uncorked the vial he was holding, seized the back of Harry's head and practically poured it down his throat.
Harry coughed and spluttered, but he swallowed. The forbidden potion was thick and the black liquid scorched his throat. The golden dust like particles of the dæmons vanished, his dead eye blind again under Tom's distant control.
Harry staggered away from Snape. He fell backwards, collapsing onto Ron's bed, shivering violently.
Snape loomed over him, a rather horrible expression on his face.
"Clear your mind, Potter."
"Shut up," Harry snapped. He didn't want to. It was too much.
The horrible, lingering ache from Lyra's absence had returned. Even though she was only a few floors below, she was just out of reach, past the distance that their bond supported.
Harry drew into himself, legs pulled against his chest. He felt cold, almost feverish.
"Clear your mind," Snape repeated with a snarl, "Or you will succumb to something less than human."
"I don't care," Harry snapped, shadow roaring as the room plunged several degrees. "I've had enough, I want it to end, I don't care any more-"
Snape pulled out his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and Harry tensed.
"Calm down, Potter," Snape sneered his disgust apparent. "I have no reservations about knocking you out if you continue to throw a tantrum like a child."
Harry glared at him, eyeing the wand with destain. If they kept Lyra from him, what was the point in any of this any more. If Tom wasn't coming back-
He wanted to let the darkness take hold, to plunge back into his temptations. Perhaps Harry's only path was to join Voldemort. Even if he wasn't allowed Tom, at least his deepest desires would be granted.
Snape was watching him, and his next words were cold and angry.
"What do you think the Dark Lord would do if he got his hands on you?"
"Get out of my head," Harry hissed, and he tried to stand again only to find that he physically couldn't.
"You would be lucky if the Dark Lord granted you the mercy of death," Snape said savagely. "You are far more useful alive, Potter."
"I know that," Harry snapped. That was the point.
He could not face this path alone.
"Then you are weak," Snape said sharply, lip curling. "Until you have mastered control, you are subject to the will of others. Tom sacrificed parts of his own humanity so you could keep yours. And you would throw that all away?"
"I would not-" Harry started, fury pumping through his blackened veins. "I am not weak."
"Then prove it, master yourself," Snape spat.
It wasn't possible. Not on his own.
Harry was shaking from head to foot.
"I need Lyra," he said, voice barely holding steady.
"Not until you clear your mind," Snape snarled.
The shadow was swirling around, becoming him, and a coldness that Snape could escape was leaching into the room. Ripples of gold were breaking through and dancing across his dead eye, so that not even Tom would be able to stop Harry from seeing, not now.
Below, imperfect glimpses of Caedmon and Temmie flicked across his vision, but Lyra was no longer with them. Instead the small strand of gold particles from his chest led further away, possibly out into the garden-
"You won't let me have her," Harry bit out, he felt really ill.
"If that was the case, then you'd have been left at Hogwarts," Snape said coolly. "Given that that is the soul intention of the Ministry, surely it would be obvious that was the reason you were brought here?"
Harry jerked at this, but he didn't think he heard correctly. He looked at Snape whose expression was only of annoyance.
"You aren't going to take Lyra away?"
"No, Potter. Now if you focus and clear your mind."
Harry took a harrowing breath, his fear still lingered but he at least tried to relax.
It was difficult.
The silence from Tom was deafening, and Harry trembled. Now his mind was coherent, the reality of what had happened played vividly back in his memory.
"Potter-" Snape growled.
Harry shut his eyes, pressed his hands to his forehead. His scar was stinging and everything just felt numb. He took another breath, letting everything go as his thoughts dispersed. In turn, Lyra and the glimpses of the other dæmons vanished, his dead eye yielding back under Tom's control.
When Harry finally opened his eyes, everything felt disconnected, calm despite the situation being far from it.
Snape continued to survey him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then he flicked his wand. Strength seemed to be returning to Harry's legs, and he found that his hands were no longer restrained.
"Get up," Snape instructed, and he twisted on the spot, jerking his head for Harry to follow.
Harry pulled himself tentatively to his feet.
As they descended down the narrow, rickety stairs, the ache in his soul vanished and his absent heart coiled within. Harry nearly missed a step, almost colliding with Snape in the process.
Just like before, it felt as if his soul had always been complete and hadn't been brutally ripped apart.
It welled within him, offering a strength that was incomparable to anything else.
Snape led him into the Weasley's very comfortable looking lounge. It was empty apart from Lyra, who was sitting on the window sill, next to the open glass pane. It was still snowing, and the light of the full moon lit up the dark courtyard outside. Lyra yawned and stretched her small body before jumping down onto the warn carpet.
Harry stood very still.
The darkness receded even further, and he craved to hold her in his arms, needed her comfort to stop himself falling apart. A burning question itched on his tongue, and his throat tightened as he finally faced his dæmon. His voice came out strangely quiet.
"Did you want to come back?"
Lyra blinked up at him, her head twitching to the side slightly. She had clearly understood him, but when she opened her mouth only a funny yowl like noise came out.
Harry turned to Snape, panic inflicting his voice.
"Why isn't she speaking?"
Snape stared at Harry for a few moments, pressing one long thin finger to his mouth. When he spoke, it was slowly and deliberately.
"It's hardly surprising. You are damaged, Potter. Your dæmon was unlikely to come out unscathed, the fact she can transform is clearly a factor from your prolonged separation."
"Like Neville's dæmon?" Harry said.
"Yes, but given your deterioration, you are fortunate that no other visible damage seems to have been done to your dæmon," Snape said coolly. "You got off lightly, Potter, given the circumstances."
"So Lyra can't be fixed?" Harry asked.
A sense of loss, deep and harrowing became him. Harry watched Lyra, anxiously. Her fur was mattered and dirty, most likely from living wild for two years, but she definitely looked strong and healthy. She certainly felt it.
Harry took a slow step towards her, half expecting Snape to complain. When he didn't, Harry took another one.
Lyra's ears perked up, but she did not protest as Harry fell down in front of her. He reached out a ashen, half rotten hand.
There was a second where Harry was convinced she would retreat, but then his fingers were curled in her fur. She was so small, yet made the world of difference as a warmth burned inside of him.
A loud crack! resounded through the open window.
Harry scrambled up, arms wrapping tightly, instinctively around Lyra.
Through the window, Harry got a brief glimpse of Professor Dumbledore walking across the stone courtyard. Harry froze and his harrowed breath shortened. He noticed Snape take a wary step towards him, wand in hand.
From the kitchen, Harry could hear muffled voices, and then the next second Dumbledore had entered the lounge. For a moment, terror returned and Harry was convinced that Dumbledore would separate them, would tear them apart, through some means or another.
But no shimmering barrier appeared or any further bonds to restrain him. Instead, Dumbledore's gaze swept over the pair, before he spoke to Snape.
"Severus, if you would excuse us for a moment?"
Snape nodded, and his black eyes lingered on Harry and Lyra for a briefly before he turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Harry retreated slightly.
Dumbledore sat down on a puffy looking stool and locked his fingers together, he peered over his half moon spectacles, his eyes that usually sparkled were dull.
"Please, sit down Harry."
Harry didn't move.
"Are you going to take Lyra away?"
He hated that his voice sounded so pathetic, and the fact that his decayed fingers trembled and pressed tight into Lyra's mattered fur.
Dumbledore sighed, and he looked suddenly very old.
"No, Harry. Lyra is your dæmon and belongs with you."
The sheer hypocrisy made Harry's anger flare, he opened his mouth to retort but Lyra nipped him sharply on his finger.
"Ouch, Lyra-"
Lyra looked up at him, a little too innocently and with an expression that reminded his aching absent heart of Tom.
Dumbledore however, did not pause at the interruption and he cleared his throat.
"I received your owl, probably a bit later then intended," he admitted solemnly. "I had just left my office and it took a short while for your owl to seek an open window and locate me."
Harry listened, feeling rather numb and sick.
"By the time I reached your tower, you had already left. I didn't know how long you had been gone, but judging from the destruction I assumed the worse. I took flight and left for Hogsmeade immediately. Fawkes went ahead, he found only Aurors at the shrieking shack but in secret he spoke to Alastor Moody's dæmon, Itzel, warned her that you, Tom and Lyra were in grave danger. That the three of you had to be found, outwith the Ministry's influence if possible."
Dumbledore sighed heavily and continued.
"The commotion was over, just as I arrived. Tom had been taken and the Death Eaters had fled. I feared for you and Lyra, that had you also been taken. Fawkes went back to the shrieking shack while Itzel sent a message to all other Aurors that could be trusted with your safety. It was very fortunate that Tonks and Kingsley found you. They knew that if you were discovered with Lyra you would be detained and separated."
Harry listened, but the fact of the statement was startling.
Dumbledore had infiltrated the Ministry.
"Tonks brought you here, knowing that Molly and Arthur can be trusted, and returned to Scrimgeour before he had time to grow suspicious. It appears that the Aurors did not see Lyra, which is very fortunate. The Minister does not know that you have been reunited, which makes all the difference."
"Sir?" Harry frowned.
Dumbledore smiled slightly.
"I have informed Cornelius that you have been removed from Hogwarts for the time being for your own safety and also that of the students. It will allow you time to adjust without Tom, and without the pressure that the Wizengamot will interfere."
"So I can't go back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore shook his head, eyes twinkling slightly.
"Not immediately. However, I don't see why this will be the case indefinitely. Once you are confident with Lyra, I cannot see why you cannot return to school, of course, under any necessary precautions."
"The Ministry won't like that," Harry said tightly.
"The Wizengamot will find it difficult to separate you and Lyra once you have been together and safe for a period, regardless of if Tom was there to keep an eye on you," Dumbledore said calmly.
Harry stood deadly still, the blackness in his heart swirling.
"That won't matter," he whispered. "They'll take her-"
"Harry, I will help you in any way that I can and that includes doing everything in my power to keep your daemon with you," Dumbledore lent forwards slightly, looking sternly at Harry. "But first, I need to know what happened tonight."
"I don't know what happened," Harry whispered. He didn't know how everything had gone so wrong.
"Start at the beginning," Dumbledore said.
The beginning. When had this all started?
The diary piece and Riddle's messages, the promise of returning Harry's wand, Hogsmeade and when Riddle had first found Lyra, Sirius Black's rescue and the note which had said Lyra was in Hogsmeade.
Harry's throat was tight. Tom was gone, what else mattered. But he opened his mouth regardless, his voice quiet, thoughts jumbled and confused.
"Sirius Black found Lyra. They were in the shrieking shack. Tom went to get her but he didn't want me to go-"
"Ah-" Dumbledore said, but he was frowning at the sudden incoherent information. He did not interrupt though so Harry continued.
"Riddle was there," Harry said quietly, his fingers dug into Lyra's matted fur. "Tom used the portkey and transported Lyra back to Hogwarts, instead of-"
"Instead of saving it for himself?" Dumbledore prompted.
Harry nodded, his hands clenching.
"Black was with her but he went to bring Tom back-"
Harry broke off, a sudden dread building within.
"Itzel said Sirius Black had been caught. What will happen to him?"
Dumbledore suddenly looked very sad.
"The Dementors will be performing the kiss any moment now-"
Lyra made a strangled cry, as Harry's insides twisted. She leapt out of Harry's arms and up onto the table, hissing and spitting while pacing back and forth in front of Dumbledore, clearly agitated and frustrated she could not speak.
"Sir, listen," Harry started, "Sirius Black's innocent! He rescued Lyra from Riddle before...It was Ron's rat, he's up in Lupin's office. Professor Lupin will explain-"
"Unfortunately, Professor Lupin is still in his werewolf form and is in no condition to explain anything," Dumbledore said calmly. "He sustained significant injuries fighting the Death Eaters and will likely remain in St Mungo's for a period."
A great sense of guilt rippled through Harry, but he shook his head, but the words didn't want to make sense.
"Peter Pettigrew," he repeated, trying to slow his speech. "He's an animagis, he's alive. He framed Sirius Black. If you find the rat-"
Dumbledore raised both hands, and for a moment, Harry didn't think he had either believed him or made sense of his disjointed thoughts.
"Harry, if I am to understand you correctly, and I will wish to speak to you further about this when a man's life is not on the line, you believe that Sirius Black has been with Lyra for a period and was hoping to reunite you. You also believe he is innocent of committing those murders years ago because Peter Pettigrew, who is currently detained at Hogwarts, was the true perpetrator."
"Yes, but sir-"
Dumbledore stood abruptly and simultaneously a burst of fire erupted in front of them. Harry flinched as Fawkes soared high around the ceiling before coming to settle on top of the Weasley's mantel.
"Fawkes, go and find Alastor Moody immediately. Tell him to stop the dementor's kiss under all circumstances, I will be at the Ministry shortly to explain," Dumbledore instructed.
Fawkes didn't say a word, only nodded his large head before he disappeared in a shroud of flames.
Dumbledore fastened his outdoor cloak back around his shoulders.
"Severus," Dumbledore called, and Snape reappeared in the doorway. Harry had a horrible suspicion that he had been listening in. "If you could please stay with Harry, I have something I need to attend to urgently."
Snape jerked his head, but he didn't look very happy about it.
Dumbledore strode across the room, only pausing very briefly in the doorway.
"I will be back to speak to you about this later, Harry."
Then he was gone.
Dumbledore's words however washed over Harry. They didn't make any sense, Harry didn't want to stay still.
"I need to find Tom-"
"Your dæmon is priority, Potter," Snape sneered, lips curling. "As much as it pains me to offer advice to you, Tom would want you to both stay where you are."
Harry shook his head urgently, stomach doing a horrible and uncomfortable twisting motion.
"I can't leave him-"
"Tom will be safe under the Dark Lord's protection," Snape countered, almost sounding disinterested.
Immediate fury, burned white hot in Harry.
"Last time Tom was under Voldemort's protection he was petrified. I won't leave him there-"
Harry would not accept it.
He rounded on Snape, and it was oddly satisfying when Lyra mimicked his actions. She growled, arching her back as her hair ruffled. If only Laraine was here, Harry was sure Lyra could have taken her.
"You're a Death Eater. Do something!"
Snape's eyes narrowed coolly.
"Do what exactly, Potter?"
"You can get to Tom, give him another portkey," Harry snapped. "Bring him back to me."
"Trust you to not understand the nuances of war, Potter," Snape sneered. "I cannot interfere, the Dark Lord cannot suspect me."
"So?" Harry demanded and Lyra growled again. "Why does it matter, if you can get Tom back-"
"Listen, Potter. The world doesn't solely revolve around you and the Dark Lord-"
"Don't tell me to listen," Harry interrupted furiously. "What use is a spy if you don't even do anything-"
Snape's expression twisted into one of absolute to disgust.
"I know it is difficult to get any information into that thick skill of yours, Potter," he said coolly. "But I provide critical information, it would be foolish to throw that away for the sake of a worthless cause-"
"Tom trusted you," Harry said suddenly in a voice that was cold and dreadfully calm. "I guess he was mistaken."
Snape's face went deadly pale and then to anger. He looked visibly murderous and his wand twitched in his hand.
Harry glared back at him. He hated Snape with a fierce passion.
He chose not to help.
"You're a coward." Harry said, who felt no fear at all, only rage and contempt at the pathetic person before him.
Snape's face twisted into something inhuman, his eyes bulged slightly and his lip curled animal like.
"Don't call me a coward," he hissed.
"Why not?" Harry counted wildly. "It's true, you're pathetic, you're the weak one."
Snape's face was blazing, and he raised his wand.
Harry went soaring backwards, hitting the floor hard, head nearly slamming against the edge of the coffee table. He could hear Lyra snarling, standing between them and Harry knew she itched to transform and attack.
Snape's pale face glared back at him as Harry pulled his aching body back to his feet. He opened his mouth, ready to recklessly call Snape a coward again but Mr Weasley appeared in the doorway.
"Harry, what's going on? Are you alright?"
Harry didn't answer, he only glared at Snape and stormed past him, Lyra hot on his heels. He expected Snape to stop him, to raise his wand and insist that he had to remain under his watch. Harry couldn't be trusted with Lyra yet, not really.
Snape however, did no such thing.
Behind him, Harry heard the backdoor slam, and a few seconds later a crack echoed from outside. Snape had disapparated.
Harry climbed the steps, moving back to Ron's room. He threw himself down on the bed, shaking violently. He barely noticing when Lyra clambered up beside him, her claws digging into through his clothes as she settled down on his chest.
He must have stayed like that, glaring at the ceiling for another few minutes. Outside, it had started to snow harder, and he could see snow flakes hitting and melting down the window.
There was a knock of the door and Mrs Weasley peered her head around it.
"Harry, Professor Snape left these for you," she said. She was holding two small bottles of the forbidden potion.
"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," Harry said, trying not to let his voice break. "I'm sorry for all of the trouble-"
"Oh, no, it's no trouble at all," her smile faltered every so slightly as Caedmon, who was skirting around her feet, made a funny growling noise. "I've run the bath for you, goodness knows your dæmon could do with a wash, I've left you some fresh towels out. Arthur and I, have also agreed that you should stay here over the holidays. Ron will be home soon, and it'll be good to have some familiar company."
Harry blinked at this, throat thick. When he struggled to find a response, he nodded.
She seemed to understand, for she smiled thinly, set the potions down on the dresser and pulled the door to.
Harry lay there for a moment, his chest breathing deeply in and out. His withered fingers teased themselves into Lyra's fur. Mrs Weasley was right, Lyra looked straggled and the white patches of fur on her face was nearly the same colour as the light brown parts.
With immense effort, Harry forced himself to move.
Two stories down he found the bathroom door slightly ajar, with warm steam rising from the room. He slipped inside, locking the door shut behind him with a loud click.
Mrs Weasley had hung a set of clean pyjamas for him on the towel rack.
Harry paused by the edge of the bathtub, still fully dressed. Beside him, Lyra skirted along the edge of it precariously. He'd never had to look after a dæmon.
Tom was always so independent.
"Go on then," Harry said, gesturing to the hot water. Lyra gave him a look that could only be described as indignant, before skirting around just out of his reach.
Harry stared at her, feeling completely lost. A horrible lump formed in his throat and his good eye blurred. Something wet tricked down his cheek.
It felt wrong that everything was so stable. It wasn't soul destroying, unlike last year. Nor did it feel like when Lyra had left. Harry and Tom were still connected after all.
Tom just wasn't there.
That was the stark truth of it, and Harry had to do this on his own.
He sunk down and pressed his back against the side of the bath, wiping his face as he drew his knees up to his chest. Lyra jumped down, landing on the bath mat, wide eyes looking up at him.
His scar burned, and Harry felt it, yet was apart from it. He exhaled, and Lyra's small fragile body shuddered slightly, but she did not move away.
Harry didn't know how long he stayed there, watching the steam rise from the water. It swirled around, dancing and misting away from the chill that radiated from him.
He took one long rattling breath, breathing in slightly more than air from his surroundings. Lyra tensed, her whole body rigid but still she remained dutifully by his side.
Harry closed his eyes and a calm descended over him. It came easier than it had ever done before. His mind cleared, and he knew nothing.
Lyra was the missing piece. That fit into him so perfectly and made a world of difference.
Harry could see so clearly the last two years, without Lyra, his agency had been ripped away.
But, no longer.
There was a stillness, and it rippled over him tenfold.
Harry opened both eyes.
Downstairs, he could see Mrs Weasley's honey badger in the kitchen. Caedmon was pacing back and forth, while Mr Weasley's dæmon, a small weasel called Temmie was curled up on one of the kitchen chairs.
And Lyra. She sat across from Harry, watching him with that same unnerving stare.
Her dust like light, swirled around her, the golden colour so enticing.
Harry watched idly, enthralled but remaining perfectly calm.
He was not tempted by her, nor the other dæmons. His grief kept him from falling into the abyss.
It was just him and Lyra.
Nothing unwanted from Lord Voldemort's soul leached through, with only Harry's connection to Tom untouched. The pain in his scar was absent, and even the taint from Riddle which Harry had previously clung to was separated. Tom's emotions were missing, but it was not from Harry's influence, he was certain. Tom was using Occlumency against him in turn.
Not that it mattered.
As long as they remained connected, that was the only resource Harry needed. Of course, he could shut Tom off completely, but there was no reason to take the risk.
Harry clenched his fists, his dead eye no longer a hindrance as he watched the nearby dæmons and their beautiful shimmering list. They would never be hidden from him again.
"I'm not weak," Harry repeated.
Lyra blinked across at him and flicked her tail.
He wasn't the same dæmonless child any more, subject to the will and dependent on others. Nor was he a slave to his own warped temptations, desperate to claim any dæmon indiscriminately. This time, Harry would take Tom back and he would destroy any soul that stopped him.