Harry picked up a stone and tossed it from one hand to the other. With a single exhale, he threw it hard. It flew through the air, curved in an narrow arc over the Weasley's garden wall where it landed just out of sight in a field of long grass.
Lyra was perched on the nearby wall, half asleep, one eye blinking open to watch with mild interest.
Taking a single step forwards, Harry paused on the boundary which separated the Weasley's garden and the single dirt path. He raised his withered hand and held it in the empty air directly in front of him. A tingle ran down his withered fingers, the sensation alien.
With a shaky breath, Harry plunged his hand in deeper.
Nothing happened.
Harry took another step, his whole body colliding with an invisible force.
A hook jerked around his stomach, his feet whisked from underneath, pulling him backwards in a blur of sharp motion. Harry slammed into the hard ground several meters away, lungs emptying in a startled cry.
Lyra leapt off the wall and gave him a fleeting look that said 'I told you so'.
Harry scrambled up, brushing himself down and scowling.
"I don't see you trying," he snapped.
Lyra flicked her tail and ignored him, her attention diverted to another disturbance in the yard.
Mrs Weasley and Caedmon were walking across it. She was throwing out handfuls of seed, a dozen chickens swarmed behind pecking at the frozen ground.
She spotted Harry and Lyra.
"There you both are," Mrs Weasley said. "Come inside and get some breakfast."
Harry didn't move, instead he stared out at the open fields where half a dozen pebbles now lay. Mrs Weasley followed his gaze, noting his disappointment.
"I'll ask Dumbledore to extend the perimeters," she said. "Ron will want to show you the orchard, they usually play Quidditch up there when the winds not too cold."
Harry's fists clenched slightly.
"Dumbledore's coming here?"
Mrs Weasley's smile faulted, but she blinked and rearranged her face into something that looked less concerned.
"Tonight, for Order business."
Harry nodded and turned away just in time to catch Lyra's ears perk up.
The Order of the Phoenix.
Not that Harry knew much about it, other than it was Dumbledore's name for his group of witches and wizards he'd convinced to side with him against the Ministry and Voldemort.
"Will Snape be there?"
Snape hadn't been back since their argument which suited Harry just fine.
"Professor Snape," Mrs Weasley prompted, her face fighting off another frown. "And no, not tonight."
Harry let out the raspy breath he had been holding, causing Caedmon to shiver and move behind Mrs Weasley. He watched idly with his dead eye, inspecting the golden bond that linked the honey badger to Mrs Weasley. It was so unlike Harry's bond to Lyra. Half broken strands spilled from his own chest, straight between his absent heart and where Lyra's own lay. Lyra's return hadn't fixed that but Harry had known it wouldn't. Neville's bond to Cyrilla was splintered, so why would his to Lyra's be any different.
Harry kicked a stone and it skidded over a frozen puddle, startling the trail of chickens who dispersed in a flap of feathers and indignant chucks. Caedmon growled disapprovingly, although he didn't re-emerge from behind Mrs Weasley.
Back inside the cluttered kitchen, pots and pans were clanging under running water. A feather duster swooped across the tops of cupboards, dancing between clothes which floated up from a washing basket to fold themselves neatly in a small heap on the ironing board.
A loud crack sounded across the yard. Simultaneously one of the hands on the Weasley's clock chimed from the other room and a weasel dæmon burst into Harry's vision.
Harry twisted around, just as Mr Weasley entered the kitchen looking far more haggard than previous mornings. He slumped down into his chair and pulled off his hat with a heavy sigh.
"Busy night, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked, setting the kettle boiling with a flick of her wand.
Mr Weasley ran his hand over his face, half looking like he would fall straight asleep as Temmie and Caedmon embraced.
"You could say that." He pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and passed it over the pile of sausages.
"You'll want to see this, Harry."
The title covered half of the front page,
SIRIUS BLACK TO FACE TRIAL
Sirius Black [dæmon: Mintaka], possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress and reported as being recaptured only last week, is now set to face trial for the crimes he was accused of over a decade ago.
'New evidence has come to light' briefed Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour [dæmon: Nala] at a conference early this morning. 'Evidence that puts questions on the night You Know Who disappeared and the events that followed where Black was imprisoned for the murder of thirteen people.' When questioned how this could effect Black's previous sentence of lifetime imprisonment, Scrimgeour said that he would not be commenting on any speculation..[read more on Page 4].
Harry lowered the paper frowning as Lyra peered over the top of the table.
"They didn't mention Pettigrew?"
Mr and Mrs Weasley both shared an almost frantic look at this. It was fleeting, before Mrs Weasley started busying herself with the tea. Harry watched warily, he knew the Order of the Phoenix knew exactly what had happened.
"It's not unexpected," Mr Weasley said with a heavy sigh. "Kingsley said he's being held in the secure wing of St Mungo's, I doubt the press even know."
Harry shivered slightly at this.
"Sharing your body with your dæmon for that long does terribly things. His mind might never recover," Mr Weasley continued. "For now Pettigrew can't be questioned which complicates matters somewhat."
Harry stared at his breakfast in silence, his appetite non existence. He could feel Mr Weasley watching him for a moment.
"I spoke with Kingsley," Mr Weasley said quietly, as Temmie took the opportunity to steal a piece bacon. "The Ministry are very interested in how your wand got into Sirius Black's hands."
Harry shrugged.
"Tom must have given it to him."
"Which in itself is a problem, last they knew Riddle had it," Mr Weasley said.
Harry looked sideways at this, not sure what to say. He didn't really feel the need to explain the past year to the Ministry. He'd explained bits of it to Dumbledore and that had been frustrating enough.
"And that adds to the problem of how Sirius Black got involved in the incident at Hogsmeade," Mr Weasley continued. "The Ministry will argue the reason he was in Hogsmeade was that he was with Riddle."
"He was with Lyra," Harry said.
"And Sirius hasn't said a word about Lyra being present," Mr Weasley explained.
Harry frowned, before he opened his mouth slightly.
"Oh, right- Dumbledore."
Mr Weasley nodded, expression solemn.
"Sirius is getting a trial, which is more than he got last time at least."
"Can't they just read his memories?" Harry asked, thinking back to when the Ministry had torn through his own in order to find Tom in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Memories can be tampered with," Mr Weasley said. "And Sirius won't agree to that, it'll expose Lyra."
"Without Lyra, the Minister won't believe him," Harry said quietly.
Mr Weasley looked at him sharply at that.
"Harry, people have gone to great risk in keeping you safe, keeping you and Lyra together. You know as soon as Fudge finds out he'll rip you apart-"
Harry fixed his dead eye unnervingly on Mr Weasley, watching the golden dust like link that spilled from his chest.
"I won't let him," Harry said, in a voice horribly cold. "I'd devour his dæmon for even trying."
Mrs Weasley dropped the teapot she'd just been moving across to the table. It crashed on the floor, hot liquid cascading everywhere amongst broken ceramic. Caedmon made a horrible screeching noise, leaping to avoid the scolding liquid.
"Harry Potter, you will do no such thing!"
Not even bothering to recover the broken teapot, Mrs Weasley placed both hands on the table, her voice raised as she fixed him with a ferocious look. "You're going to get better and go straight back to school. Sirius Black and the Ministry aren't your responsibility, do you hear me?"
Harry blinked, opened his mouth, for a moment loss for words.
"Sorry, Mrs Weasley."
Lyra buried into him, startling him slightly. Now finally clean after several decent baths, her fur was soft and Harry tentatively reached forwards to run his fingers through it.
Mrs Weasley was wrong, it wasn't as simple as that.
He'd need to face the Ministry at some point, he needed his wand back.
Harry had no perspective of time and whether Tom had been gone for hours, days or weeks.
The problem was that Lyra made everything so painfully normal and the days blended together one after the other. That was the most frustrating thing. Harry was used to Tom, and even Riddle, who tugged on emotions, demanded attention with their presence alone, whereas with Lyra, Harry would often forget she was there.
He'd spent hours pouring through Me, Myself and My Daemon, and equally several other books that Mrs Weasley owned, but they hadn't been much help.
Without Tom, everything should have collapsed and it just simply hadn't. The normality burned within Harry, the guilt weighing on every thought.
And to make matters worse, the Christmas holidays arrived and Lyra still wasn't talking. Harry spent the day helping Mrs Weasley with a number of last minute chores. He'd already made six beds, fed the chickens, decorated the Christmas tree, which was made far more difficult because Lyra kept diving into the tinsel. Harry had just started on de-gnoming the garden by the time Mr Weasley left to go and collect Ron, Percy, Fred, George and Ginny from Kings Cross. Harry was mildly interested how they, plus five dæmons would fit in the small Ford Anglia but Mr Weasley had shown Harry a handy expanding charm he'd placed on it.
"I might need to make it bigger as Galian grows," Mr Weasley had added. "I wanted one of those trailers the muggles have, but Molly would kill me if I put Ginny's dæmon in a horse box."
Harry was now sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over his transfiguration text book while Mrs Weasley busied herself making dinner.
Every few minutes she would glance over at Caedmon who was perched on the cold window sill. He hadn't moved for the past half an hour, his fur was stiff and his short sharp teeth were bared slightly as he waited and watched.
Any minute Mr Weasley would return with Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny and more importantly five dæmons.
Dæmons.
Harry stiffened in his chair, his throat horribly dry. He hadn't given much thought to the fact that five fresh dæmons would soon be present in the house, which was an achievement in itself. It had been different when it was just her and Mr Weasley, they could both defend themselves, but now their children were being thrown into the mix.
"Mrs Weasley-"
She jumped slightly, and even Caedmon jerked and spun his sharp eyes around.
"I'm not hungry, can I skip dinner?"
Mrs Weasley's mouth parted slightly and she looked genuinely startled.
"You should really eat something-"
Harry tried to ignore the rising lump in his throat. He'd grown used to the peace and quiet of the Burrow amidst all the turmoil, he didn't want to cause Mr and Mrs Weasley any distress at his expense, not after everything they had done for him.
He stood before she could protest any further.
"I'll come back down if I change my mind."
Taking the rickety stairs two at a time, Harry entered a different bedroom than the one he'd woken up in. No longer surrounded by bright orange posters, this room had a much more muted tone. Several posters with dragons adorned the walls, along with a number of music posters, the occupants playing weirdly misshaped instruments that Harry didn't recognise.
He crossed to the bed and without changing threw himself under the covers. Lyra leapt on top, her small paws sinking into the duvet as she clambered over him, coming to settle on his chest, directly over where his heart should be.
Harry watched, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.
They stayed like that, Lyra perfectly content and Harry staring hauntingly at his dæmon. A year ago, he had been alone, couldn't have contemplated that he would ever feel complete again, and now everything had changed.
A burst of light pulled his dead eye's attention away.
Harry watched warily, but he still rolled over to get a better look, disturbing Lyra who made a noisy disgruntled squeak. Further down the small lane, a car full of dæmons was trundling up the narrow lane.
It was just like being back at Hogwarts. Harry would spend hours watching the dæmons in the castle from up in the tower, utterly absorbed. Only Lyra had achieved what Tom could not, his desire to devour truly suppressed.
Down below in the Weasley's kitchen he could see Celendia and Demetria bounding inside, chasing an agitated Bronwyn. Sephronia had dived straight for the food and Galian had found himself space at the far end of the table, near Caedmon. Temmie was curling back up in her usual spot on the arm of Mr Weasley's chair.
Harry was just debating whether to put his slippers back on and go down and join them when Sephronia separated from the others. The dæmon climbed the stairs and stopped just outside his door. There was a knock, and then Ron appeared holding a plate full of food.
Lyra leapt from the bed, and brushed her nose against Sephronia, as if they had always greeted each other this way. Harry watched, a little taken aback from Lyra's quite visible affections.
Ron however, didn't seemed phased, he slipped the door shut and beamed.
"I knew you'd find her. I knew it!"
Despite himself, Harry's mouth split into a grin.
"To be fair, I think she found me." And then Harry was explaining everything. The whole past year, Riddle's messages, Sirius Black seeking out and saving Lyra, how Tom had gone to bring her back to him-
It felt a world of difference speaking to Ron than compared to the prolonged grilling Dumbledore had given Harry about that night.
"Tom will be fine," Ron said when Harry finished. "He's more than capable of looking after himself, specially when he knows you and Lyra are safe-"
Harry nodded, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.
There was no indication of what would happen to Tom, Voldemort of course could be brutal but it was Riddle that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up.
Shaking the ominous feeling, Harry pulled Lyra into his lap, fingers combing through her fur to salvage some sort of comfort.
Lyra sat their quite content, tail curled around her body as she tucked into Harry's chest.
"Ron," Harry said quietly, after awhile. "About Scabbers-"
Ron waved his hand dismissively.
"Dumbledore explained," he said. "Although what do you make of Sirius Black, if he rescued Lyra and didn't really kill all those people-"
Sephronia had tensed at the mention of Scabbers. She crouched low, bared her teeth and growled.
Watching her for a moment, Harry let it drop and answered Ron's change of subject.
"Lyra's pretty taken with him, I think," Harry said. "I just don't understand. Sirius Black isn't telling the Ministry about Lyra even though that could send him straight back to Azkaban."
Ron shrugged.
"He's your Godfather, right. Surely it makes sense he wants to protect you?"
"I guess," Harry said, a little loss for words. No one had done something that drastic for him before, no one except Tom. And now in a short space of time both Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had been added to that list.
The next afternoon Harry, Ron, Fred and George marched up the hill to the small paddock the Weasley's owned. Celendia and Demetria bounded ahead of the group with Sephronia and Lyra trailing behind.
Harry had borrowed the old broomstick that he'd found in the corner of his room. Its tail was splintered with half the twigs broken off. After Ron had reassured him that it used to belong to his brother, Charlie and that he'd won Gryffindor the Quidditch House Cup several times over on it, Harry mounted it and kicked off, coming to hover only a few meters of the ground.
Lyra hadn't moved. She was still at the entrance of the orchard, hovering beside the roots of a large apple tree.
"Come on," Harry said, gesturing her over.
Lyra looked at him, the darker brown fur that surrounded her eyes shadowed from the overhanging branches. Pacing back and forth she opened her mouth and she let out a small yowl.
Harry flew over and dismounted, attempting to pick her up. Lyra's yowl turned into a strangled cry as she twisted away, teeth snapping at Harry's decayed fingers.
"Lyra-"
She could not be calmed, and Harry was left at a complete loss at the frantic dæmon.
Fred and George were already in the air, throwing back and forth small tennis balls. Their dæmons were darting back and forth beneath them, eager to catch anything they dropped.
Ron was just putting Sephronia in the precariously small basket which clipped to the underside of his broom.
"What's wrong with Lyra?" Harry called.
Ron glanced over his shoulder. Sephronia twisted round to see better, which was difficult as she caught her tail on the mesh. Lyra continued to pace back and forth, just out of reach.
"She doesn't want you to fly," Sephronia barked.
Harry blinked at this, turning back to face his dæmon in disbelief.
"Why not?"
Lyra yowled again. Harry didn't know why he expected anything more than her silence.
They had existed side by side and the lack of communication and a mounting surge of anger and frustration flooded through him, which was only more pronounced when no emotion returned across his bond from Lyra. It was like she was only half there.
"Fine, stay on the ground," he bit out.
Harry swung himself back around, and pushed hard against the frozen ground. The cold, wintery air rushed across his decayed skin. The broom tried to drift too far left against the wind and with a forceful tug, Harry pulled it right and soared upwards, bringing himself level with Fred who pointed up at the tallest tree.
"You're good as long as you stay beneath that top branch."
Below Lyra had stopped howling and was watching Harry with an fierce intensity. Turning the broom, Harry spun, completing a loop around the orchard. He pushed his weight backwards, the handle angled sharply upwards, climbing at a rapid pace. With an equally sharp pull sideways, Harry forced the broom to soar rapidly to come level just below the tree line.
"Tom was clearly holding you back," Fred Weasley yelled from the other end of the orchard. "You're so much faster."
Harry's grin slipped slightly. High above him, George and Ron were tossing a ball between each other, every throw trying to make the other fly further and faster. Fred was flying slightly lower, keeping the tether to Celendia and Demetria, and he threw another ball hard in Harry's direction.
Harry had to spin upside down to catch it.
They kept that up for a good half an hour, darting back and forth, fighting against the rising icy winds and the darkening clouds above them.
With a fleeting glance towards the ground to check on Lyra, Harry levelled the broom and held it still. From where he was positioned, he couldn't quite see over the tops of the trees and the miles of rolling hills and fields beyond.
A sudden, reckless thought captured Harry. There was a chance that Dumbledore hadn't enclosed the entire Burrow, leaving Harry to fly up and over the protections. Tantalised by the possibility, he edged his broom higher, one hand reaching out, expecting a similar alien sensation on his fingers. When nothing happened, Harry's stomach twisted in excitement. He pulled back on the room, daring it to go a little higher and then a little higher still.
Everything went horribly wrong.
There was no jerk around his stomach, no tingling sensation. Instead, something far worse blossomed in his very soul. There was a coldness, deep and brutal, rising with every jagged breath. The absence was as excruciating as the first time, haunting and penetrating.
Lyra.
He had flown to far.
Harry's grip loosened upon the broom handle. He was half falling, half flying.
Everything was a blur, he couldn't see anything. Dæmons and people were screaming from everything direction. The ground was hurtling towards him, the wind chill negligible compared to Harry's internal grief.
Dropping the last several feet, Harry slammed into the ground, pain ricochetting through his leg. Within three strides he had pulled Lyra into his arms, her trembling body pressed against his.
How had he forgotten that all this had happened before.
Harry had abandoned Lyra on the ground in his very first flying lesson, and that had ended in disaster. The guilt and fear consumed him, the ache in his soul had gone, but the effects still lingered and could not be shaken.
Harry drew a rattling breath, drawing all happiness from the surroundings. The light from Lyra blazed in his dead eye, and he drew forwards, decay leaching towards her. Lyra squirmed, claws and teeth scratching and biting.
"Lyra, I-"
She shivered under his despair, and went suddenly very still.
Harry clutched at her, his fingers digging into her fur, hands trembling uncontrollable. There was no warmth left in his dæmon...her light was fading.
Something slammed hard into the side of him.
Harry went sprawling sideways, a grounded pain splintering across his vision and through his head.
Ron was next to him, a mess of broomstick and earth. Sephronia was barking wildly, her golden light blazing compared to Lyra. She broke free of the hanging basket, tore across the ground and dug her teeth into Lyra's mane to pull her away from Harry.
Fred and George landed, their wands drawn and looking absolutely terrified.
"I wasn't going to-" Harry's voice croaked, barely managed to form words.
But it didn't matter what Harry's intent.
Lyra wasn't like Tom, who could endure the worst of Harry. She was his dæmon, and he could feed upon her.
In that agonising moment, Harry knew what had to be done.
Tom's influence was constant, had never changed and was always there. Harry let it flood through him in waves. Lyra's golden light vanished in a curtain of black for the first time in weeks, the emptiness and loss of her bright shimmer only made him feel worse.
Sephronia, Demetria and Celendia also vanished, his dead eye blind again.
Ron clambered up, gripping his shoulder and breathing hard.
"Lyra, is she okay-"
Sephronia barked, her tail twitching. Beside her Lyra was stirring, and Sephronia nudged the pine marten back onto her feet.
Harry let out a long rattling breath, which only added to the despair.
"I forgot, I went too far-"
Fred let out a hollow laugh, running his hand through his hair.
"Merlin, Harry, you don't just forget about your dæmon."
Harry suddenly felt both very stupid and foolish.
"Come on," George said, flinging his broom over his shoulder and glancing uncertainly at the sky. "We should get back before Harry makes it snow."
"I can't make it snow-"
"Right, only turn it absolutely freezing and pitch black, right?"
Sephronia made to push Lyra forwards, but the pine marten dodged around the terrier and clawed her way up the largest tree, coming to rest high up on one of the branches. Peering down, she watched, eyes unmoving upon Harry.
"Harry-" Ron tried.
"It's fine," Harry said, a hard lump forming in his throat. "Leave her."
The others glanced nervously between each other.
Harry picked up the broom and didn't say anything else. He knew that she wanted to be alone, and it would cost them both. The pain was still fresh, but there was nothing he could do, he owed her the absence of his presence, after all she'd spent weeks by his side already. And that had already been asking too much.
Within seconds, the clouds burst and icy hail pounded down on them. Ron scooped up Sephronia, sheltering her with his jumper as he followed Fred, George and the huskies back down the path.
Harry paused, staring up at Lyra one final time before he too ducked for cover.
Mrs Weasley had hot chocolates and warm blankets waiting for them. Fred, George and Ron all crammed forwards, shivering and dripping wet.
Harry hung back slightly, before reluctantly accepting a hot chocolate.
The dæmons in the room were more unsettled then usual, apart from Sephronia, who sat by Ron's side and didn't spare too much of a glance in Harry's direction. Temmie was crouched up on the kitchen cabinet watching Harry intently, while Galian was pawing at the stone floor as Celendia and Demetria tried to calm her.
Caedmon made several angry noises before Mrs Weasley finally acknowledged her dæmon's discomfort.
"Where's Lyra, Harry?" Mrs Weasley said.
Harry stared at his hot chocolate, a skin was starting to form on top of it.
"Still in the orchard," he mumbled.
The immediate fear that crossed Mrs Weasley's face, reflecting a similar alarm to her husband.
"You shouldn't be apart-" she started. Caedmon had leapt off the counter and looked ready to march up to the orchard, with or without Mrs Weasley.
"It's okay, Tom can still keep me stable," Harry said quietly. "I don't think its healthy for Lyra to be around me all the time. I mean, Tom struggled and-"
Harry trailed off. Tom wasn't a dæmon.
Mr Weasley set himself down at the table, and set down his own mug.
"Given the state of some of the dæmons in Azkaban, it's probably not the worst decision," he said. "But given how much Lyra calms you, I don't think you should have separated so early."
Harry nodded, the horrible ache of Lyra's absence cutting through him. It made it harder to concentrate but it certainly wasn't impossible. He'd done this all year with Tom and without Lyra. The only thing was that Tom wasn't physically by his side any more despite his influence still being present.
From the alarmed look Caedmon was still projecting, Harry was thankful when Ron, Fred and George remained silent, only sharing concerned fleeting glances.
Harry took a rattling breath.
"I think there's something wrong with Lyra," he said quietly. And it wasn't just the lack of continued silence from Lyra, there was something else that had been bothering him for weeks. "I can't feel any of her emotions?"
Everyone was looking at Harry with a mixture of terrified and confused expressions. Ron however, swallowed the last of his hot chocolate with a large gulp and set it down with only the slightest of frowns.
"What are you talking about?"
Harry suddenly felt very self consciousness.
"You know, like if Tom was angry, I'd feel his anger-"
He trailed off, not exactly sure how to explain it.
"Harry, that's not how dæmons work," Mr Weasley said gently. "It's not possible to feel a dæmon's emotion."
"But surely you know when your dæmon is upset?" Harry asked. Feeling even more stupid and confused by the minute.
"Well sure," Ron cut in again as he passed Sephronia a biscuit. "That don't mean I feel any of Seph's emotions though. It's no different as if Hermione was upset-" Ron turned a very bright shade of red at this. "I can tell just on how she acts, but that's it."
"Oh," Harry said, slumping back slightly. "Just that's not what Tom feels like." Or how Riddle felt for that matter.
Christmas day arrived to a flurry of snow and hail. Harry reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, arriving downstairs to a mass of presents, wrapping paper and excitable daemons. Celendia darted passed him, barking madly and trailing something that looked like confetti. Harry watched numbly, hand pressed to his chest, where the terrible ache of Lyra's absence continued to burn.
"Here, Harry," Ron said pushing a large badly wrapped box into his arms.
With a half hearted grin, Harry open it to find a large box of Berty Botts Every Flavour Beans and a book called Flying with the Canons, the cover of which was the same bright orange as Ron's bedroom. Mrs Weasley had knitted Harry a large squashy jumper that had a pine marten woven into the front, along with a large batch of home-made cookies. From Fred and George, Harry received a bag of dungbombs, which Galian had accidentality set off when he stepped on it, and Mrs Weasley had to shoo them out the lounge while she dealt with the pungent smell for the next half an hour.
They were just tucking into a mountains worth of food, when Harry felt the desperate ache of his soul diminish.
Harry leapt to his feet, knocking over a jug of pumpkin juice and startling Bronwyn who made an odd yapping noise and darted under the table. Without excusing himself, Harry ran across the kitchen and flung open the backdoor, letting in a icy draft and a flurry of cold slush.
Lyra was there, slightly damp and shivering on the doorstep. Without waiting for an invitation, Harry fell to his knees and pulled her into his arms. The effect was instant, far more potent and everything he had craved for the last few days.
There was so much he wanted to say, but Lyra proceeded as if nothing had ever happened, climbing onto his shoulder without so much of a blink of an eye, leaving damp patches on Harry's new jumper.
"Harry-" Mrs Weasley was standing, her mouth slightly agape. "Is everything okay-"
"Yes, thanks. Sorry, Mrs Weasley," Harry said, rushing to sit back down. From across the table, Ron shot him a thumbs up and Sephronia wagged her tail enthusiastically.
Harry grinned weakly back. He resisted the urge to pull Lyra off his shoulder and check he'd not inflicted any lasting damage. Tom had been so robust, but Lyra felt suddenly so fragile, as if one rattling breath would tip her over the edge.
Everyone was still looking at him, but Harry didn't care. One moment ago, everything had been broken, now he had his soul whole again. In a satisfying blink, Harry shifted his occlumency, allowing the golden dust like forms of daemons to return to his vision.
Breathing lightly and trying to act painfully normal, Harry started to tuck into his plate of food, relieved when Fred cleared his throat and declared loudly.
"Come on, let's not let all this food go cold or Sephronia will have it all-"
"Oi-" Ron started, but his hand was already under the table passing a pigs in blanket to his daemon.
Straight after dinner, Harry dashed away from the table and retreated into the lounge. He scooped up Lyra from his shoulder, depositing her unceremoniously on the floor in front of him.
Lyra hissed, but otherwise stayed dutifully still as Harry prodded and inspected her. Her dust like light still glittered in that perfect way and Harry resisted letting out a rattling sigh of relief. He sunk back on his heels, hand covering his face, the relief overwhelming.
"I didn't mean-"
Another light burst into periphery vision. Harry spun, alarmed.
Mr Weasley was standing behind him. Temmie was sitting on his shoulder, whispering frantically in his ear.
"Harry, is everything alright?"
Harry swallowed tightly. He was going to lie, but the question burst from his decayed lips before he could stop himself.
"Mr Weasley, how long do dæmons in Azkaban usually last before they start to fade?"
Temmie visible blanched at this, her hairs standing on end as Mr Weasley half swallowed, half choked on his words.
"Harry, I-"
"I need to know," Harry said dully. "I can't keep subjecting Lyra to...well to me."
Mr Weasley glanced over to see that Mrs Weasley wasn't behind him, took a step into the room and lowered his voice.
"Harry, you need to understand, you are not like a normal dementor, Lyra might not suffer the same consequences-"
"But she might," Harry said. "I can't risk it."
A hollowness was forming in the pit of his stomach, growing without quenching. If Lyra's burning light would ever burn out-
Temmie was fidgeting something fierce and Mr Weasley absently placed his hand over her small body to calm her. He chewed on his lip, seemingly undecided before he relented.
"Some last a few months, others maybe a little longer," Mr Weasley said gravely. "But they all wither...in the end."
A dim resolve flooded through Harry.
"If Lyra is to stand a chance, she can't stay near me. At least not the whole time, can she?"
Mr Weasley didn't say anything. From the look on his face, it was apparent he could offer no other solution.
Harry sighed, and a rattling cold descended. Temmie stiffened, retreating as far as she could from the growing despair that seeped into the surroundings. There was no temptation towards dæmons, that resolve could not be broken, instead Harry's own emotions were in turmoil.
Without waiting for a response, Harry fled, dodging passed Galian who had just moved across the threshold. He took the stairs three at a time, and entered his bedroom in a blind panic. Before he could slam the door shut, Lyra slipped through the thin gap.
"You shouldn't stay with me," Harry snapped.
Lyra stared silently up at him, her tail swiping back and forth.
"Go on," Harry made to push her away. Lyra darted around him and leapt onto his bed. She yawned, totally unconcerned as she pawed at the sheets.
Harry tried to pick her up. Lyra hissed, sharp teeth snapping at his fingers. She would have drawn blood if he had any.
"Okay, fine-" Harry cursed. He fell down on the end of the bed, head sinking into his hands.
Lyra's golden light was beautiful, showed the very depths of his soul. Harry had seen a dæmon subjected to a dementors prolonged influence once before, it was over a year ago now when Scrimgeour had thought the promise of a soul would control him. The golden patterns had been faded, erratic and wrong, the dæmon irreversibly damaged.
"I don't want you to fade," he whispered, throat raspy and dry.
Lyra pattered across the duvet and brushed her head against Harry's leg. Harry stared at her, thoughts and emotions a jumbled mess.
If only she could talk. Then they wouldn't have this weird back and forth, it was like learning a whole new way of communication.
The worse thing of all was that Harry would know what Tom would have said. Lyra blinked at him lazily, almost daring him to force her away again.
Harry felt suddenly very foolish. Lyra knew the implications better than he did, understood her limitations. It was why she had returned to him when she had.
"Fine," Harry muttered with a heavy sigh. "As long as you know what you're doing, but you know it can't be like the last few weeks. I've probably already done you enough harm."
Specially considering how much Harry's thoughts had dwelled on Tom. The constant trickle of shadow would already have leached through to Lyra. Absently, he stroked her coarse fur, clinging to the warmth that she offered.
Over the next few days, the snow began to fall heavier and thicker. The garden soon disappeared under a blanket of white, and dozens of little gnome trails could be seen traipsing back and forth between the edge of the garden and the wood store.
Ron and Harry spent the morning having a fierce snowball fight with Fred and George. After declaring victory, because Harry was the only one left not frozen to the bone, they traipsed back inside to defrost. Lyra, Sephronia, Demetria and Celendia all huddled together, fur dripping wet in front of the fire, waiting for Mrs Weasley to finish preparing lunch so she could dry them off with her wand.
Absently, Harry rubbed his chest where the splintered strand of light which linked Lyra and him together spilled out. She had started to disappear for a few hours at a time, each time returning when Harry's resolve was starting to break. The constant strain ricochetted between them, making it harder the next time she had to leave.
Lunch had just been served when a loud crack sounded from outside. The golden light from a dæmon Harry hadn't seen in ages burst into his vision.
"Hermione?" Harry said, looking up surprised. "She's here?"
Mrs Weasley smiled, as she passed across a plate of pies.
"Ron invited her."
Ron's ears had gone very pink and even Sephronia lowered her head bashfully. Harry grinned at him. Seconds later, Hermione appeared followed by Ramiron and Mr Weasley floating along a very large trunk.
"Sorry we're late, Molly," Mr Weasley said, not looking very apologetic at all as he kicked off snow from his boots. "Mr Granger was showing me his television box, it really is excellent, they have moving and talking pictures just like we do, all run from eckeltricity!"
Hermione grinned sheepishly and waved hello in Harry and Ron's direction.
Sephronia and Ramiron brushed up against each other, similar to how Lyra and Ramiron had greeted each other only they lingered closer together for longer. Fred let out a long whistle, much to his mother's scorn. Hermione blushed fiercely, and she sat down next to Ron and started to help herself to some pumpkin juice.
Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't the only visitor that day.
Shortly after lunch, there were two more loud cracks from outside. Harry twisted his head, dead eye fixated on the location dæmons would usually appear. At the complete lack of golden light, Harry excused himself from the game of wizards chess he was losing and tried to sneak upstairs.
He had barely made it four steps when Caedmon appeared at the bottom.
"Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape would like a few words with you," he barked.
Stomach tightening, Harry reluctantly followed the honey badger back into the kitchen.
"Harry, there you are," Mrs Weasley said, smile faltering at the thunderous look on Harry's face. "Um, if you need anything-"
"Thank you, Molly," Dumbledore said. He had a horrible calming smile on his face.
Crossing to the far side of the room, Harry grabbed a chair and threw himself into it. Lyra jumped up beside him and flicked her tail back and forth. There was only one thing that kept Harry from getting up and leaving. Snape stood just behind Dumledore, a nasty scowl upon his face. Surely he had some scrap of news about Tom.
Dumbledore settled himself down at the other end of the room and placed his hands on the table, linking his long fingers together.
"I'm sorry to disturb your Christmas Holidays, Harry," Dumbledore started.
Harry glared at him and didn't say anything.
Dumbledore nodded as if expecting the hostility, he sighing heavily.
"Molly and Arthur tell me you've been separating yourself from Lyra?"
Harry's expression darkened considerably at this.
"Why are you surprised?" he bit out coolly. "You actively encouraged Tom to distance himself from me for his own well-being, what makes you think Lyra will fair any better?"
Dumbledore didn't say anything at first. He just looked older and more tired than usual as his gaze swept over Lyra.
"You have a clean break from Tom, and can separate without causing either of you prolonged harm. This is not true with your bond to Lyra, you are still tied together completely and distancing yourself will cause only pain."
Harry's mouth went suddenly very dry.
"Fine, how do I cleanly break my connection to Lyra?" He looked between both Dumbledore and Snape and their absent links to their dæmons. It was possible, they could separate just like the Death Eaters could with no negative consequences. "How did you do it?"
It was the same question he and Tom had asked Snape at the start of the year, but this time he would not settle for an incomplete answer.
Dumbledore surveyed him, his expression concerned.
"You have to cut the bond with a knife."
A chill slipped down Harry's spine, his empty chest coiling in darkness at the realisation of the horribly familiar mechanism. Lyra brushed tentatively against the side of his hand.
"Like the guillotine?" Harry asked, his voice the thinnest of whispers.
Dumbledore nodded solemnly.
"The knife is made of the same material. It has the ability to cut through any material, including the connection between human and dæmon...you cut the bond and let it bleed into your dæmon. It is not as blunt, nor as brutal as the guillotine which will severe the bond in an instant leaving no time for any connection to trickle through safely."
"Why?" Harry demanded. "You did it, didn't you? Why would you choose to do that to yourself?"
Dumbledore smiled sadly, but he didn't answer.
Instead Harry's dead eye fixed unnervingly across the Snape.
"So Voldemort has it? That's why all his Death Eaters are capable."
"The knife was used in the Dark Lord's first reign of terror, but it has been unaccounted for for many years," Snape said stiffly.
Harry bit the inside of his mouth, would have drawn blood if he had any. He didn't say anything for a short while before he fixed his gaze back to Dumbledore.
"What about Moody?" Harry said. "He's not a Death Eater."
Dumbledore sighed heavily again.
"Alastor had the misfortune of crossing paths with the knife's owner a long time ago. He was fortunate that his dæmon was not killed in the encounter."
Harry remembered all too clearly. Itzel, Moody's dæmon, had lost a wing. There was however, another more pertinent question.
"The knife's owner?" Harry frowned.
"Only few are capable of wielding such a weapon," Dumbledore said. "It is not a skill that can be easily learnt. The knife's last known owner was Giacomo Paradisi, whether or not he still has the knife or will ever return to Voldemort's service though, we do not know. Both him and the knife have been missing for many years."
Harry sat silently, digesting the true implications of the situation.
Without the knife, there was no way to cut his bond from Lyra safely. She couldn't stay with him, not continuously, she'd suffer far worse than Tom ever had from Harry's presence. Lyra and him would remain connected, would have to suffer any necessary absence from each other.
"I am truly sorry, Harry," Dumbledore said.
Harry swallowed.
"A basilisk was good enough for Tom and my bond, there has to be other magic that is capable?"
"The basilisk could have killed you both," Snape sneered. "It was the darkest form of magic, and untested. Of course, there are numerous curses we could try but I don't think you would like the outcome if it goes wrong. The knife is the only safely proven way."
Immediate anger flared inside Harry and Lyra growled, small teeth bared. Fury bubbled hot to the surface, emotions from their last encounter still raw.
"Have you seen Tom?" Harry demanded.
Snape's head jerked slightly, his eyes narrowing, a horrible expression crossing his face, lips pale and twisting. He pulled himself up slightly, staring down at Harry with pure hatred.
"I have a message for you," he said dryly.
Harry's whole body seemed to go numb and he sat stiffer in his chair.
"Tom wants you to stay where you are," Snape said. "He said to not go looking for him, no matter the opportunity or temptation. It is imperative you do not give yourself to the Dark Lord and remain under the protection of Professor Dumbledore."
Harry's ears burned and a hollowness washed across his body. Lyra whined slightly, withdrawing into herself and tail curling around her small body. Harry shook his head, not knowing whether to be angry or confused. Surely Tom craved their reunion, would not want to be apart for much longer than necessary but then...the clarity was instant.
Tom had done everything in the past to keep Harry away from Voldemort, that wasn't going to change now. Harry relaxed, despite Lyra curling tighter. Tom would have said nothing else, but regardless the message didn't matter, not really. Harry had no intention of going to Voldemort, but that still didn't mean Harry would abandon Tom.
There were just a few things that Harry needed to do first.
When Harry finally escaped, he found that Sephronia and Ramiron had moved upstairs to Ron's room. Harry watched their links to their dæmons, and when he was quite sure he wasn't interrupting anything, he made his way up and knocked on the door.
Hermione opened it. She was biting her lip, looking ready to burst from not having the opportunity to speak openly earlier.
"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry to hear about Tom. I mean the Daily Prophet barely said anything, but it's just awful! Ron's just finishing telling me what happened, about how you found Lyra-"
She broke off, her gaze following Ramiron who had just greeted Lyra similar to a way Sephronia had done. She chewed her lip once more, her voice betraying a slight tinge of fear.
"You're managing okay then, with Lyra?"
Harry nodded stiffly.
"Yeah, just about-" he stopped short of mentioning the forbidden potion that was still being supplied to him every few days. Harry crossed the room and collapsed on the end of Ron's bed, pressing his decayed hands to his temple.
"What did Dumbledore and Snape want?" Ron asked.
Harry stared up at the bright orange ceiling as he explained. He half expected them to complain, it was already abnormal for him to spend time away from Lyra. When he was finished Hermione was frowning deeply.
"A knife which safely cuts the link between dæmons?" she said. "I've never heard of such a thing-"
"Sounds like the one from the Tale of the Three Brothers," Ron mumbled with a yawn, leaning back against his cushions.
Ron's eyes were already half closed as Sephronia curled up by his side. Harry threw an abandoned slipper at him causing Ron to jolt up. Sephronia yelped, slipping off the bed with a startled thud.
"The Tale of the Three Brothers?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," Ron yawned again. "You know, the stone of resurrection, the cloak of invisibility and the knife of separation."
"The knife of separation?" Hermione asked.
At Harry's blank face, Ron rummaged around in a pile of discarded books, he finally retrieved one that was half hanging from the bindings and had faded gold lettering on the cover which read The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
Opening it unceremoniously, he turned to half way in the book and cleared his throat.
"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at midnight-"
"Is this a fairy tale?" Hermione asked, brow slightly wrinkled.
Ron turned a bright shade of read, snapped the book shut, glaring at her.
"Fine, the story is that these brothers all out smarted Death, so he decided to grant them all a reward for their cunning at evading him. The oldest brother wanted to not be restricted by any distance to his dæmon...Death gave him his dagger that has the ability to cut through any material, including the bond between human and dæmon. The dagger is known as the knife of separation."
"But that's just a story," Hermione said. "It's not real."
Ron shrugged and lay back down, tossing the book roughly in Hermione's direction.
"Well it is real," Harry said. "Voldemort had control over the knife at some point, that's how all his Death Eaters can do it. Dumbledore used it at some point too."
"Dumbledore used the knife on Fawkes?" Hermione's eyebrows raised into her fringe.
"Not directly, the knife has an owner and only they can use it," Harry clarified glumly "No one knows where he is though."
"You Know Who probably killed him," Ron said.
"That makes no sense, they'd be irreplaceable" Hermione frowned.
Ron shrugged.
"They probably scarpered then, soon as You Know Who lost his powers. Anyone with any sense could have done so."
Harry listened numbly, as Lyra paced agitated in front of him on the floor.
Without the knife, he had no way of separating safely from Lyra, not without causing either of them pain.
That evening, long after dinner and after several more snow showers, Harry watched numerous more dæmons arrive at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had shooed them all upstairs due to an Order meeting that was scheduled. Fred and George had complained loudly, until Caedmon had chased Dementria and Celendia up the stairs, snapping at their heels.
Corin and Amabel had already arrived together, followed by a few dæmons Harry didn't know by name. And then a dæmon appeared Harry had not been expecting.
Ignoring Ron's startled yell, Harry hurtled down the stairs with Lyra hot on his heels. He came to a halt in the kitchen, to a room full of witches, wizards and dæmons. Dozens of eyes spun around to stare at him, but Harry's attention was on one person only.
Professor Lupin was supported by a wooden walking stick and looked very ill and pale. Niamh, with her huge werewolf form revealed to Harry's dead eye looked far worse. Her face was swollen, bruised and cut in numerous fractures. Large scars crossed her body, and her fur was patchy and torn out in large uneven clumps.
"Harry-" Mrs Weasley started angrily. "Back upstairs-"
"No, Molly," Lupin said his voice strained. He hobbled forwards, all of his weight shifted onto his walking stick. "It's okay."
Harry followed Lupin into the empty hallway and opened his mouth, not sure what to say, thoughts a mix of confusion and guilt. Given the state of Niamh, Harry wanted to apologise, for Lupin to understand what his actions had achieved. Harry finally settled on the simplest statement.
"Thank you."
Lupin smiled at him, it was genuine and all tension released from Harry at that moment.
"Does Niamh really look that bad?" Lupin asked, as Harry's gaze shifted back to the damaged dæmon.
Harry nodded, slightly confused, before he realised and shut off his dead eye temporarily. The normal wolf greeted him, but she only looked as wary and tired as Lupin. The giant liaisons which cut across her body were oddly absent.
"They didn't want to let me out straight away," Lupin said. "The healers wanted another full moon so they could tend to any injuries that might not have been apparent. It seems like there were many."
Harry's dead eye slipped back to focus on Niamh's true form in a burst of light.
"What happened?" Harry asked.
A shadow crossed across Lupin's expression and beside him Niamh growled.
"It was chaos," Lupin said tightly. "There were Death Eaters everywhere-"
Harry swallowed, holding back any despair that would have leached into the room. Lupin didn't need any help remembering.
"I was sinking my teeth into anyone that moved, I can still taste the blood," Lupin shuddered. "Sirius got to Lyra... I had to get to Riddle, had to stop him-"
Lupin's voice broke off abruptly, and he shook his head. Niamh brushed herself against him and he ran his fingers through her fur.
"Riddle threw me through a window," Lupin finished quietly. "I didn't see what happened to Tom or Lyra. Last I saw, she was still with Sirius."
Harry let out a rattling breath despite himself. He nodded, throat tight. It lined up with what Dumbledore had said at least. There was still one other person though that could divulge more.
"I want to speak to him," Harry said firmly.
A wary look crossed Lupin's face.
"Sirius is being held until his trial, you won't be able to-"
"And what if he goes straight back to Azkaban," Harry challenged. "I'll never get the opportunity. Don't I deserve just one conversation with him, after what he did for Lyra-"
"I don't disagree-"
"Then do something," Harry snapped.
Lupin closed his eyes, he was silent for a long while as he wobbled on his walking stick. Lyra started to pace at Harry's feet, every now and then squeaking in Niamh's direction.
Harry chewed his lip impatiently, wondering if he had been unfair. Lupin had already done so much.
"Okay, I'll see what I can do," Lupin said quietly. Appreciation and relief flooded through Harry, it was short lived however, when Lupin raised his hand. "You better get back upstairs though before the meeting starts. You won't miss anything tonight, and Molly will never let you leave the house if you're not careful."
Begrudgingly, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way back to the stairs with Lyra at his heels. Niamh watched his every move, growling when he dithered too long at the bottom. Harry didn't go back up to Ron's room, instead he settled half way up the stairs, his dead eye watching the Order's dæmons hauntingly long into the night.
It was snowing again when Harry and Lyra made their way down to the kitchen. The previous days snowball fight had been covered in fresh powdered layers, and Harry could already see a couple of gnomes carving their way back through a trough of snow.
Mrs Weasley was preparing her breakfast and barely noticed Harry when he entered. Caedmon wasn't in his usual place on the draughty windowsill. The honey badger was instead sitting by the backdoor, growling at Temmie who was clearly trying her best to ignore the other dæmon.
Percy was the only other person there. He was pouring over several text books, scribbling frantically and eating his cereal while Bronwyn slept on his lap.
Sitting down, Harry resisted the urge to ask about the meeting straight away. Fortunately he didn't have to wait very long. Mr Weasley looked tentatively at his wife, before clearing his throat.
"Harry, Remus said you wanted to speak to Sirius Black?"
Caedmon growled loudly, baring his teeth.
Harry nodded, the shadow that was his absent heart suddenly pounding through his veins.
"Professor Dumbledore's agreed you can go, so Kingsley is arranging it," Mr Weasley said. "I'm supposed to bring you with me into work today...but you'll need to leave Lyra here. The Minister still doesn't know you've been reunited and Dumbledore wants to keep it that way for now."
In his arms, Harry could feel Lyra shaking with anger. She'd been with Sirius Black for weeks, what right did they have to tell her she had to stay behind. Harry ran his hands though her fur to calm her.
He would not walk blind into the Ministry.
"Professor Dumbledore is confident you will remain in control," Mr Weasley added. "You've already proven that. This is a good opportunity as any to show the Minister you are capable of managing without Tom before term starts again."
"I know, Mr Weasley-" Harry started.
"Harry," Mr Weasley inturupted sternly. "You will need to be careful, Dumbledore will be there, but even he cannot predict any irrational actions Fudge may take-"
Mrs Weasley slammed her hands down onto the table, her face a very similar red to how Uncle Vernon's used to go.
"He shouldn't be going!" she snapped.
"Molly-" Mr Weasley tried.
"Harry has already been through enough. Professor Dumbledore doesn't need to parade him in front of the Minister, his reasons are totally unfounded and he is perfectly safe here-"
Harry blinked at this, completely caught off guard.
"Dumbledore's reasons?"
Molly looked very cross with herself, but she spoke with a forced level voice to Harry.
"There is no reason you need to go to the Ministry of Magic, Harry. Some people-" and she shoot her husband a ferocious glare. "Seem to think it's necessary, but-"
"Molly," Mr Weasley interrupted. "We discussed this last night. If Lyra stays here, there's no reason Harry cannot go."
The finality in his voice was one Harry had never heard before. Mrs Weasley crossed her arms, lips thinning. With a contemptuous look at her husband, she marched across the kitchen to the back door. It slammed as she left which had Harry staring in disbelief.
Mr Weasley looked suddenly very tired.
"Go get ready, Harry. The sooner we leave the better."
Harry didn't need telling twice. He ran up to his room taking the stairs two steps at a time with Lyra scurrying along behind him. He took no time at all to rummage through his trunk, throwing out several school books and robes in the process. At the bottom he retrieved a slightly oversized coat that had once been one of Dudley's.
"Stay as quiet and still as you can," Harry said as Lyra climbed into the bottom inside pocket. She coiled around, settling herself in the wedge of fabric, hidden so that no one could possibly suspect. Harry paused, noticing the smallest tremor.
She couldn't talk, nor could he feel her emotions but in that second Harry understood, knew his own fear was hers.
"If anything happens, I won't let them take you," Harry whispered.
A/N: For those of you who aren't familiar with His Dark Materials and its parallel universes, the 'knife of separation' I'm referring to is the Subtle Knife which has the ability to cut through the fabric between worlds.