The particles of golden light shone from every direction; all the way down to the depths of the courtrooms and right up to the tops of the glass windows that surrounded the atrium. Every dæmon drew Harry's attention, each one startling bright and so alive.
Along with the more common dogs, cats and small birds, there was also an elephant, monkey, crocodile, ostrich, meerkat, panda and even a floating ball of water with a goldfish swimming in tight circles. Inside Harry's pocket, Lyra squirmed, repositioning herself to better hear the commotion.
Harry had a small square silver badge with Harry Potter, Visitor pinned to his coat. Not that anyone would have any doubt who he was. Any nearby dæmons were giving him a wide berth, and he received plenty of horrified expressions from the witches and wizards that passed.
In all pictures that had made it to the Daily Prophet Harry had been covered in bandages. No one had seen his rotten and ashen skin, or his dead eye, black and shrouded in mist. His scorched face and rattling breath was enough to startle one witch so much that she actually leapt back with a shriek, sending her dæmon into the air in a flurry of feathers.
Harry followed Mr Weasley closely, half surprised that Scrimgeour and Fudge hadn't leapt out the second he had stepped into the building. Along the atrium, several aurors lingered, their own attention on the crowds of people that moved through the building. Purple posters and leaflets were floating above their heads with bold title including How to keep your family safe: 12 essential spells and hexes and What to do if Death Eaters attack your home.
Mr Weasley moved past them quickly. Temmie perched on his shoulder, keen eyes darting back and forth. The weasel was so small that she could easily have been stepped on if she wasn't careful.
Next to the aurors was a newspaper stand; each and every paper plastered with a giant headline covering the page Public Outrage over Black trial announcement, Minister of Magic calls for immediate Dementor's Kiss.
Inside his pocket Lyra went very still, disturbed by his abrupt stop.
"Can Fudge do that?" Harry asked.
Mr Weasley's expression darkened and nodded.
"The dementors have been authorised to take Sirius' soul since his escape. Fudge wants it over with and quickly, and there is enough support that no one would challenge him. I believe it's only the Auror department which are holding it back, we have Alastor Moody to thank for that...but Scrimgeour could change his mind at any point."
"But he's innocent," Harry protested, "They've already got Pettigrew-"
Mr Weasley placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and started pushing him away from the papers and down the long hall.
"I know that," he whispered. "Dumbledore's doing what he can."
"What if it's not enough-" Harry started, but Mr Weasley gave him a firm look equal to one of Mrs Weasley's.
"There is nothing more you can do to help, Harry," Mr Weasley said. "Just remember to be careful if anyone asks about Hogsmeade-"
"I know," Harry said bitterly as he let himself be led away.
Further down the hall, Professor Dumbledore was waiting by the large fountain. He was alone and Harry used this as a excuse to quickly avert his gaze, pretending to be distracted by the surrounding daemons. Inside his pocket Lyra shifted, conscious of the watchful twinkling, blue eyes.
"Thank you Arthur," Dumbledore said as he pulled out a golden pocket watch. He surveyed the multiple ticking hands and placed in back within his robes. "I'll be sure to return Harry to you by lunchtime."
"Be sure that you do," Mr Weasley said. He let go of Harry's shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. "Molly will roast me alive if you don't come home this time."
Harry shifted slightly at this. The last time Mr Weasley had dropped Harry and Tom at the Ministry had been his twelve birthday and they'd never made it back to the Burrow.
With a final wave and a squeak from Temmie, Mr Weasley waved and disappeared back into the crowd.
"Harry, I trust Arthur has explained the need for you to tread very carefully today?" Dumbledore said. He started to walk away from the fountain, and Harry followed cautiously, glancing left and right for any aurors.
"Yeah, he said not to mention Lyra."
"Then I would also add," Dumbledore bowed his head, ducking under a swarm of memos that went soaring past in tight formation. "That you need to choose your words carefully when speaking to Sirius."
"What do you mean?" Harry said.
They entered an empty lift and were alone. The doors shut and it began to sink into the ground.
"I mean do not force Sirius to lie," Dumbledore said heavily. "Any false statement from him will only discredit what little credibility he currently has."
"You mean our conversation won't be private?" Harry asked, a bitter sinking feeling in his stomach.
"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "Keeping your visit secret would have been impossible."
Harry chewed his lip, frustration and anxiety growing.
"Mr Weasley said you were doing something to help-"
Dumbledore held up his hand, the twinkle in his eye disappearing.
"I will do everything in my power to ensure Sirius remains with his soul long enough to face a proper trial."
"What?" Harry said angrily. "And if they still find him guilty?"
"Peter Pettigrew's existence is enough to prove Sirius' innocence," Dumbledore said, before fixing him with a knowing look. "Harry, I trust you really do understand the importance of keeping Lyra secret. Fudge will not tolerate you having a soul. If anything goes wrong, Fudge may find a way to place you in the secure section of St Mungo's, and there will be little I will legally be able to do to help you."
Harry stiffened, his absent heart swirling frightfully in his chest. He could help Black, at least partially, but at what expense to himself.
The lift descended rapidly, plunging them down to the bottom level. Harry clung to one of the handrails as it screeched to an abrupt stop, doors rattling open. A sudden coldness entered the lift, and Harry felt Lyra curl tighter inside his coat. Harry resisted the urge to look at her golden light, or place his hand into his pocket to stroke her fur. Instead he reluctantly followed Dumbledore down the the narrow staircase which lead to the courtrooms.
Down below there were far fewer dæmons and Harry could focus on the individual souls present. The most notable and nearest was a tabby cat who was prowling back and forth.
Scrimgeour.
Following at a much slower pace, Harry scanned the other dæmons cautiously. There were at least a dozen but none he knew. Only Mintaka was recognisable, despite Harry initially missing her light at first glance. She was wispy, a dull gold that barely shone the distance.
Scrimgeour and Nala were waiting at the bottom of the stairway.
"Dumbledore," Scrimgeour greeted with a brisk nod. His gaze drifted past the headmaster to fixate on Harry. "I want a few words with Potter."
The auror was standing next to a open door, and Harry was quite sure it led to one of the interrogation rooms.
"Of course," Dumbledore said with a smile that unnerved Harry. "However, as Mr Potter's guardian I will need to accompany him."
"If you insist," Scrimgeour grunted, and he jerked his head towards the room.
Harry rooted himself to the floor. Lyra in turn had gone perfectly still, her heartbeat noticeable through the coat pocket.
"I have nothing to say," Harry said coldly.
Nala yawned, looking unimpressed as Scrimgeour scowled at him.
"If you'd rather I order a Wizengamot summons, Potter, than I'm more than happy to do so. You were directly involved in the events that occurred in Hogsmeade and I have every right to interrogate you. Unless you'd rather I charge you with contempt of court-"
Harry scowled and without saying another word, stormed passed Dumbledore and into the dimly lit room. He almost paused on the threshold when he saw a chair sunk into the floor with open shackles on the arms and legs.
"I would like to clarify that I have already passed on Harry's account of the evening," Dumbledore said as he pulled out his wand and summoned a set of more accommodating chairs. Harry took one reluctantly.
Scrimgeour ignored Dumbledore, slammed the door shut and fixed Harry with a furious look.
Whatever patience the auror had had clearly dissipated as he pulled up a chair and lent over a small table, Nala leaping up beside him.
"What happened?"
"I didn't leave the Hogwarts grounds," Harry said through gritted teeth. Lyra's claws dug rather painfully through his clothes. "I don't know what you think I can tell you."
Scrimgeour was silent for a moment, his yellow narrowing and he pulled out his wand. In a single flick of his wrist, a heavy folder with many sheets of parchment crammed inside appeared in the air in front of him. It hovered briefly before slamming onto the dusty table. Scrimgeour lent forwards and selected a single piece of parchment.
"Perhaps I should impress upon the seriousness of this, Potter," Scrimgeour said coolly. "Two of my aurors are dead, half of Hogsmeade destroyed and left stinking in dark magic, and the best I have to show for it is one Death Eater who is supposedly innocent but isn't telling me a damn thing." He flicked his attention with an unimpressed glance towards Dumbledore at this.
"And right now," Scrimgeour continued, "I know you can give me answers."
Harry frowned, but avoided looking at Dumbledore. Kingsley, Tonks and Moody, who were all part of Order, would surely have given Scrimgeour some indication of what had happened. Lupin must have been questioned at a minimum.
"Why was Tom in Hogsmeade?" Scrimgeour asked.
Harry glared at him and didn't say anything. Mr Weasley had given him an answer for that.
Scrimgeour lent back in his chair, observing Harry with an odd expression. If anything Harry would have said the wizard looked disappointed and Nala was watching him with fiercely intensive eyes.
"I guess it's a touchy subject," Scrimgeour said lightly, a horribly look crossing his face. "It can't have been easy to know you're not wanted any more."
Harry's face burnt red, the sudden lump in his throat was tight and uncomfortable.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, making sure that his occlumency was solid as he met Scrimegour's gaze.
"Tom obviously wanted to leave you," Scrimgeour said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Why else would he seek out Riddle?"
Hot anger flared within Harry, his voice barely held steady.
"Riddle took Tom against his will," Harry said. He desperately needed to curl his fingers into Lyra's fur, pull from her a desperate comfort.
Scrimgeour only looked amused.
"You're being naïve, Potter," he said. "Tom chose to be with the Dark Lord."
Harry stood and Nala who had been prowling closer jumped back slightly. Harry ignored her as he fixed Scrimgeour with a deadly cold stare. His dead eye lingered over the bond which linked the auror to Nala.
"Tom didn't leave me," Harry hissed.
"Perhaps that's what he wanted you to believe?" Scrimgeour said softly. "Tom was afraid of you, and rightly so. He was right to abandon you."
Harry took a rattling breath, drawing more than air from his surroundings. Nala hissed, fur raising and inside his pocket Lyra went very still. Ignoring the advise he'd been given, Harry settled for a half truth instead.
"Tom went to Hogsmeade because Riddle was trying to bait me out of the castle," he snapped. "Do you really think he'd miss an opportunity to make Riddle suffer? To destroy him for what he did to me?" Harry gestured wildly at his dead eye and his half rotten and ashen face.
Scrimgeour paused, before he lent back in his chair.
"What was Riddle trying to bait you out of the castle with?" he asked, yellow eyes narrowing slightly.
Harry's mind whirled, but he already had an answer.
"He wanted to give me Sirius Black's soul," Harry said. "Thought I'd appreciate the gesture, I suppose."
A deep frown crossed Scrimgeour's face. There were holes in Harry's story but he didn't care. He crossed his arms, daring the auror to call him out.
"Were you not tempted?" Scrimgeour asked quietly, reaching across to stoke Nala tauntingly. "The promise of a soul, plus if Black did betray your parents to the Dark Lord, I imagine it would have been hard to resist."
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop from drawing to deep a breath. To admit that he wasn't tempted by a soul would probably make Scrimgeour even more suspicious.
"It doesn't matter if I was or not," Harry said coolly. "Tom wouldn't have allowed it."
"I would like to add," Dumbledore said, slightly loudly and rather pointedly at Harry. "I have every confidence in Harry, and have no doubt that he will be able to return to school without Tom being there to watch him. Of course, other precautions shall be taken, where necessary."
Scrimgeour grunted at this, but his attention didn't move from Harry.
"Why are you here, Potter? If your story adds up, why do you want to speak to Black? Not wanting to still take up Riddle on his offer?"
Harry was silent for a moment too long as Nala hissed, arching her back. Mr Weasley had suggested he say that he wanted answers for the night his parents had died, to find out why Black was being given a trial, information that Scrimgeour would have heard already and wouldn't be interested in. Harry wasn't supposed to know about Pettigrew after all. Instead, Harry settled for the truth.
"Sirius Black can tell me what happened to Tom."
If Fawkes had been present, Harry was sure the bird would have shown Dumbledore's true reaction to this statement. Instead the headmaster remained completely still and silent.
"And I want my wand back," Harry added. "I know Black got it from Tom and you have it."
Scrimegour raised an eyebrow at this, his mouth thinning.
"The law is quite clear," he said. "No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand. The Minister has also given his own personal opinion on this."
Harry glared at Scrimgeour.
"I'm not going to use it to attack dæmons."
"That is still to be seen," Scrimegour said. "It's my job to protect people against dark magic, and you're as dark as it gets, Potter. The answer is no."
Dumbledore inclined his head, finally interjecting again.
"And as I have reminded Cornelius," he said. "Harry is still half human and has every right to have access to magic. Not to forget that the reason for the law is pretty mute if the biggest threat the Ministry is currently facing is against a wizard, and not a magical creature."
Scrimegour scowled at this.
"Regardless Albus, you have an answer. As I've suggested, you're more than welcome to go and try and change the law."
Harry chewed his tongue, a mixture of anger and fear mixed together. If he was ever going to steal Tom away from Voldemort he'd need to get his wand back first.
"I have already submitted a paper for debate in the Wizengamot," Dumbledore said calmly. "Unfortunately, as you know, these things can take years to progress, and even then there is no guarantee of success. Cornelius has the authority to make an exception to ensure that Harry's education will not suffer in the interim."
"I very much doubt Potter's education has been suffering," Scrimgeour said. Harry hated how the aurors eyes fixed upon him. "Did you know I've had a number of test done on your wand, Potter?"
When Harry didn't answer, Scrimgeour drew from his pocket Harry's wand and twirled it lightly between his fingers. "Do you know what's interesting?"
"What?" Harry asked, crossing his arms if only to stop him reaching out and snatching it back.
Scrimgeour smiled slightly.
"There has been a wide variety of spells that have been cast with this, all to a varying degree of competence."
Harry tried to keep up his glare, his occlumency unyielding from Lyra's presence alone.
"So?" Harry said offhandedly. "Different people have been using it."
"Mmm," Scrimgeour muttered, eyebrows raising. "Usually I would care for spotting dark curses and not third year freezing charms."
Lyra twitched violently in his pocket. Harry jumped, absent heart pounding, the shadow roaring to live as he lent forward, desperately hoping that Scrimgeour had not seen.
"I don't need a wand to make things go cold," Harry hissed. The temperature plunged rapidly several degrees.
Nala scratched her claws, spitting as she fled behind Scrimgeour. The auror did not move, only surveyed Harry intently.
"How long have you had your wand back, Potter?"
Harry opened his mouth to argue, only to be interrupted.
"Harry, I would suggest you do not answer," Dumbledore said calmly. "Anything you say, may be used against you should the Ministry wish to press charges for the improper use of a wand-"
"It's my wand," Harry snapped, pointing at Scrimgeour furiously.
Dumbledore ignored him.
"Regardless of what spells have been used, Rufus," Dumbledore said. "You have no proof that Harry has even touched his wand, despite who else might have handled it."
"Who else might have handled it?" Scrimgeour repeated coolly. "Perhaps Potter would care to shed light on that, given that he just admitted that Tom gave his wand to Black, when Riddle was last known to have it."
Harry's mind whirled, had he just said that?
"Then I would remind you," Dumbledore said calmly. "That Tom has permission to use a wand, there is no evidence that Harry has handled it."
Scrimgeour snorted at this, a horrible look on his face.
"I hardly think it would take Tom twenty attempts to cast a freezing charm."
Harry's good part of his face coloured at this.
"So go on, Potter," Scrimgeour said, fixing him with a very unamused look. "When and how did you get your wand back?"
Harry knew he shouldn't answer, but he spoke before Dumbledore could stop him.
"Fine, I used my wand. But if you've inspected it, you'll already know that the freezing charm is the only spell I used, how many others were beyond what I'm capable?"
Scrimgeour was silent for a moment, before he reluctantly nodded.
"Okay, say it's the only spell you used, how did Tom get your wand back from Riddle?"
"He gave it to him," Harry said coolly. "When you found us in Hogsmeade, after I'd made the sky go black."
Scrimgeour opened his mouth, only to shut it when his response did not align. Harry knew he hadn't expected that.
"I was angry," Harry continued, lies slipping into the truth easily. "Angry at Tom for not letting me have it, that's why I lost control."
"Why did Riddle give you it back?" Scrimgeour asked again.
Harry shrugged, but met the authors gaze without a hesitation.
"I've told you, Riddle likes gifting me things, first my wand, then Black's soul..." Harry paused, before adding with a sarcastic decayed smile. "Maybe he regrets what he did to me?"
Nala hissed, clearly representing Scrimgeour's opinion on the matter.
"I can't tell you anything else," Harry concluded, pushing back in his chair and letting his dead eye drift in Mintaka's direction.
There was a second when Scrimgeour looked like he wasn't satisfied, was about to launch into his next set of questions. Instead he stroked Nala to calm her, his expression unreadable as he came to an unspoken decision.
"Fine, Potter." Scrimgeour flicked his wand making the heavy folder disappear. "You wanted to speak to Black. Maybe you'll have better luck pulling answers from him."
There was a horrible chill when they re-entered the corridor, one that even Harry was not immune to. It lingered, capturing the air in a misty fog, so that he pulled his coat tighter around himself.
Each step was numb, and as he followed Scrimgeour, a deep despair was growing, getting predominantly worse with each passing second. Terrors started to form, creeping into the very edges of Harry's consciousness. Lyra was shaking, she was too close, too bright and tempting-
There was a flash. A cold burst of light.
Harry hissed, sinking into himself. Fawkes hovered above his head, the white light consuming and utterly wrong. Harry pressed a decayed hand against the stone wall and his vision swam dangerously while simultaneously his dead eye was coming into a sharper, predatory focus.
The people who were speaking sounded oddly far away.
"Remove your dementors,"
There was movement.
"Wait here-"
Harry could barely remain standing and his legs shook precariously. The phoenix remained in his horrible impenetrable form, projecting a force that Harry could not contest.
He whirled furious.
"Can you stop it?"
There was a moment where Fawkes looked like he would swoop down upon him. And then the phoenix burst back into his golden light and the lingering cold of the dementors returned.
Harry let out his own rattling cold breath, shutting both eyes as he slumped against the wall.
"You are coping extraordinary well, Harry," Dumbledore said, holding out his arm for Fawkes to land.
Harry ignored him. Lyra's light was disturbingly still, in a horribly unnatural way, his own breath daring to draw what was forbidden.
Down the corridor the cold was fading, creeping back as the source retreated. Nala had not been summoned as a patronus and she was shaking, skulking low to the ground as the effects of the dementors lingered.
Scrimgeour waved them forwards.
A single heavy looking door was at the far end of the corridor, and a couple of aurors with their dæmons now stood guard to replace the dementors. Inside, Harry could barely see the dim light of Mintaka.
With a brief gesture from Scrimgeour, the aurors raised their wands and pointed them at the door. There was a moment where nothing happened, and then there was a sudden loud thud. It swung wide open, revealing at first what looked like an empty room.
Harry took a hesitant step forwards, passing through what appeared to be a shimmering light which covered the entire threshold. As soon as he entered, the illusion was lifted.
Instead of an empty room, there was a pair of chairs and a desk. Across the floor, a shield that spanned wall to wall separated the room in two. It reminded Harry of when he'd been dæmonless and in a similar room at Hogwarts, just before Riddle had forced him down into the chamber of secrets.
Sirius Black was lying on a bed pressed up against the wall. His hands were positioned behind his head and he was staring blankly up at the ceiling.
"You have a visitor, Black," Scrimgeour announced.
Black didn't move.
Scrimgeour turned back to Harry.
"You have half an hour, Potter."
At the sound of Harry's name, Black twisted his head, his pupils dilating as he tried to focus them.
"For the record," Scrimgeour continued. "Myself and Dumbledore, as your current guardian, will be listening in the adjacent room. Any discussions you have will be transcribed and may be used against Sirius Black as evidence in his trial if deemed relevant."
A small piece of parchment burst into existence just above Harry's head, a bright orange quill floating alongside. Harry eyed it warily.
"I was half serious about you attempting to devour Black's soul," Scrimgeour said, his mouth twisted into a smile. "It would be a good opportunity for you as any."
Harry resisted an angry retort, choosing instead to glare at the auror left.
The door swung shut, and then it was just him and Sirius Black.
Black looked just as haunted as when Harry had first seen him. Despite looking clean and well fed, the man had black welts across his hands and wrists, and his expression was hollow and drained.
Mintaka was pressed into the corner of the cell to stay as far as possible from the dementors that guarded them. Her fur was patchy and some of the visible skin beneath had deep lacerations cutting across it. Although, it was Harry's dead eye that revealed the true extant of the damage. Mintaka's golden light was dull and flicked around her erratically, bleeding out in random directions, damaged from all those years in Azkaban.
Harry resisted drawing a deeper breath. He could not let Lyra suffer the same fate.
Black heaved himself off the bed with a huge effort and crossed to take a seat. His face was drained from the effort but his eyes had recovered some life.
"You look just like your father," Black said, his voice just as rough as Harry remembered, but it was strained. "Well...apart from-"
A silence fell between them.
Now that Harry was here, he didn't really know what to say. The real question died on his decayed lips, and instead he itched to withdraw Lyra and thank Black for bringing her back to him. Lyra squirmed restlessly inside his pocket.
"How did Dumbledore become your guardian anyway?" Black asked gruffly when Harry didn't say anything. "I thought you were hauled off to live with your muggle relatives."
"He wasn't exactly my first choice," Harry said bitterly. Above his head, the orange quill continued to scratch away.
Black lent back and crossed his arms. Mintaka hadn't moved from her lonely spot in the corner.
"Not a fan of Dumbledore then?" he asked and then cracked a haunted smile. "Is the Dark Lord's soul rubbing off on you?"
Harry shoved his hands in his pocket, feeling Lyra give a slight jump against his fingers. Lyra was so certain about Black, but Harry barely knew him. Despite this, Harry still felt an odd urge to tell the man everything.
"Dumbledore put me and Tom in the silver guillotine," he said quietly.
Black's haunted smile split into something more terrifying.
"That contraption that cuts people from their dæmons? I read all about that," he said darkly. Mintaka stirred for the first time, her shaggy black hair hiding the worst of her tremours. "If I'd have known then I would have escaped sooner, before this happened to you."
A chill ran down the back of Harry's neck. It hurt to dwell on the possibility of how different his life could have been if one small thing was different. If Black had managed to find Lyra earlier-
Harry's own voice sounded distant to himself.
"When did you find out?"
"Just after you went missing. Pius Thicknesse gave me his paper when he came to inspect Azkaban," Black said bitterly. "And you were on the front page. I didn't know about Tom until then...but it said that both him and your dæmon were gone and you were alone without a soul. I knew what was at stake, had to prevent it if I could-"
Mintaka shivered in her corner, but she seemed reluctant to draw any closer to Harry.
"I had to choose my opportunity carefully," Black said. "To keep myself human I had to use my animagis ability only sparingly. Every time I transformed was a risk to Mintaka, that she might never be the same again...particularly when the temptation to spare her the torment of dementors was so great. But I knew that I had to get out, find you if I could, find your dæmon."
The quill above scratched loudly.
"It wasn't a happy thought," Black said quietly. "So the dementors couldn't suck it out of me...it was an obsession...but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So one night they brought me food, I slipped into Mintaka's mind and ran...dementors can't see very well and they can't detect animagis." He paused with a half twisted grimace. "I guess you know that though."
Harry didn't say anything.
"I went to Hogwarts first," Black continued. "It was swarmed with dementors, and I had to flee while transformed as Mintaka to protect her. Imagine my luck when doing so I picked up a scent...it was faint in the snow, but it was a trail leading away from the far side of the grounds..outwith the reach of any dementors...I followed and found you with the imposter."
Harry knew the rest, but he couldn't help but reference Lyra, to make sure Black knew how much he appreciated what he had done. Scrimgeour would already have seen those memories anyway.
"At St Pancras, you meant it then?" Harry said choosing his words carefully to mislead the quill. "That you would find my dæmon."
Black nodded, and the floating quill paused above their heads, ready and waiting.
Harry stared up at it. If it didn't record their actions then maybe it was worth taking the risk. With a single sharp inhale, he pressed a finger to his lips.
The quill didn't move.
Black lent forwards, watching and waiting silently. Very slowly, Harry moved his other hand towards his pocket. Lyra stirred, and poked her head up and into the room.
Mintaka stirred again. He ears twitched and she stood, taking a cautious step towards them.
Lyra tried to wriggle out his pocket, and Harry had to use both hands to keep her from escaping. He grinned at Black. Instead of a wary or warning look like Mr Weasley's was sure to have given him, Black's expression was one of genuine excitement.
"I knew you had to be reunited," he said equally as careful. "That it was the only way I could truly help you."
Mintaka crept a little closer, her tail wagging back and forth, showing the first real life that was left of her. Harry watched her dulled light swirl, and his throat tightened. He stared numbly back at Lyra.
"How long did it take for your dæmon to fade?"
A hollow look crossed Black's face, his eyes appearing more sunken and haunted.
"Not long. It's worse in Azkaban though, they leech off any dæmon they can, devouring all but the smallest piece. Whenever a new prisoner comes in they swarm to that soul, linger around them for days, weeks until the only thing left is not worth their time."
Harry swallowed thickly. He could unfortunately relate, Mintaka looked so lifeless compared to the shining light of a dæmon who was whole.
"I wouldn't worry," Black said, noticing Harry's sudden dejection. "I don't think your dæmon will ever suffer the same fate."
Harry blinked, drawing a sharp, uncomfortable breath.
Mintaka jerked slightly, letting out a yelp and Harry's hopes died in an instant. Of course Black was lying. Black however didn't seem phased. He put his hand out to entice Mintaka closer. She padded over, albeit reluctantly, to press her head against his palm. Black began tussling his fingers through her matted fur.
"When a dementor is close, like when they were outside just now. It feels like I'm back in that cell-" Black's voice caught slightly, a shiver passing through Mintaka. "Every moment near them is an inescapable misery of my deepest, foulest memories."
Harry grasped Lyra tightly, but was startled when Black smiled. It wasn't particularly welcoming, his teeth were stained, and it looked like he'd long forgotten how to actually do it.
"With you here," Black continued. "You certainly don't feel like a dementor. At least not constantly, only at the brief periods when I think your emotions are a little high."
Harry stared at the man. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Lyra wasn't completely damned to suffer from his presence.
"You're still more human than I think you realise," Black said. "I wouldn't give up just yet."
Harry couldn't find the words to speak, could barely hold back his rattling breath.
Despite the encouragement that there was hope for Lyra, the other unintentional point of Black's statement hit home a little too hard. Maybe it was because Scrimgeour's words had been startling close to Harry's own fears, and that lump in his throat was growing again, his own doubts left to run wild. He'd accused Tom of that before – giving up, and Tom's reaction at the time had been unnerving. If there was any chance Tom had gone willingly-
The temperature dropped several degrees.
Black was watching him, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. Unlike Mintaka he didn't draw away, instead he stood up and crossed so that he was only a few paces away.
"Harry?"
With a huge effort, Harry held back the extent of his terror, drawing on Lyra for what little strength he could manage.
"Why Tom didn't come back-"
As soon as he'd said it aloud, Harry could feel the immense weight of his guilt. Ashamed that he had doubted Tom's actions even for a second, but the story Dumbledore had told him just wasn't satisfying. Tom had the portkey and his wand. Black and Lyra had made it back, so why not Tom? Lyra hissed, teeth bared dangerously close to his fingers.
Black didn't say anything at first and Harry was sure he was just going to deny it, tell him he was being stupid. Instead Black pressed his finger to his lips, brow furrowing under the mess of tangled hair.
"Did he have any reason not to?" he asked.
Harry shook his head, blinking back the tears that threatened his good eye. But Tom's boggart was a true representation of his fears, there was no hiding that, and the doubt had only been left to grow. What if he, Harry, wasn't enough any more.
Everything was just so confusing.
"I can't speak for Tom," Black said, "But it's only natural you have doubts."
Harry stared at this.
"It is-?"
"Sure," Black shrugged. "Lyra left you and she was your own soul, it would be odd if you didn't extend the same courtesy to Tom."
Harry shook his head slowly, but the truth to Black's words could not be ignored.
"For what it's worth," Black added, and he managed another forced smile. "Given that Tom was trying to kill Riddle, I don't think you have anything to worry about."
"That's Riddle," Harry said quietly. "Not Voldemort-"
"Same thing-" Black said but paused noticing Harry's wrinkled face. "Well either way, for what it is worth, I saw Tom fighting to kill. He certainly didn't go willingly."
The words were comforting, despite Harry knowing it all along. It made a difference to hear someone else voice them, someone other that Dumbledore, but the reassurance meant everything.
"Did you see how it happened?" Harry asked quietly.
Black shook his head, a dark expression crossing his face.
Harry exhaled, causing both Lyra and Mintaka to draw away. A coldness crossed Black's face as his darkest memories bubbled to the surface.
"Sorry," Harry muttered.
"He was fighting Riddle," Black said. "They don't seem best fond of each other."
"No," Harry said, and for the second time today he gestured to his face. "It was Riddle who did this to me, right after they took me from St Pancas."
Harry had never seen someone look so angry. Black's face twisted into something fierce and he practically growled.
"I should have attacked him and not the Death Eaters," he seethed. "If I wasn't distracted-"
Lyra settled her head to poke out of his pocket to stare up at him.
"It was manic," Black said. "The Death Eaters were waiting, I think Riddle had a nasty surprise when Tom showed up without you. Bit of an unhealthy obsession if you ask me."
Harry bit his decayed lip and glanced up at the quill once again. It was safe enough though, the Ministry had already ripped through those memories.
"I promised Riddle I'd help him find Nagini," Harry said.
Black's look sharpened at that, and he looked slightly alarmed.
"Did he find her?"
Harry didn't know why he was telling Black this, but he pressed his fingers to his lips again and nodded, while simultaneously saying for the purpose of the quill above, "I don't know."
Black sighed, and put his hands behind his head.
"Seems like everyone is shy of a dæmon."
Harry didn't know what to say to this. He glanced down at Lyra, running his hand through her fur. There had never been a time when he, Tom and Lyra had been together. At least not knowingly, and that felt like an age ago.
Seemingly to know what Harry was thinking, Black pulled his hand back through his matted hair and observed Harry carefully.
"You won't stay separated from Tom forever," he said. "You'll be reunited before you know it."
Harry listened numbly. Sirius Black was not what he expected. He'd almost envisaged someone similar to Professor Lupin, not this half deranged man who Harry couldn't help but feel a connection. He had Lyra to blame for that he supposed.
"I wish he'd never gone to Hogsmeade," Harry said, and immediately felt more shame.
"I was lucky Tom was there," Black said, mouth twisted into a grimace, eyes almost glossing over from a memory that wasn't pleasant. His burnt hands twitched slightly and Mintaka whined.
"I guess," Harry muttered, shadow twisting. Black's letter was the only reason Tom had left the castle.
"Tom did the right thing," Black pressed, noticing Harry's withdrawal. "If he hadn't have left the castle then things could have ended far worse-"
Anger simmered and Harry glared at the man, he would have taken a rattling breath if not for Lyra.
"Worse?" Harry snapped, "How could it be worse? Tom is gone, and I did nothing to help."
Black's expression was deadly serious.
"Harry, you need to understand that Tom acted to save you..." to save your soul. The unspoken words were enough for Harry to sink into himself. Lyra pressed her head against his decayed fingers. "Tom kept you safe, and I can think of nothing more that deserves my respect. If I ever get out of here, I will do everything I can to help you find him."
The darkness swirled, and Harry was at a loss for words.
"I would have thought you wouldn't have approved of Tom," Harry said quietly. "Not when he's a part of Voldemort."
"He's a part of you as well," Black countered. "I mean if I judged myself on my family I'd probably have deserved to have been sent to Azkaban, well...lets just say it's why I stayed at your dad's for a time."
It was a safe topic and Harry grasped onto it. Black talked briefly about many excursions out of the castle and into Hogsmeade, or sneaking into the forbidden forest in the dead of night.
Harry left the cell feeling both better and even more conflicted than before. There were a thousand more questions he could have asked Black, or even just talk to the man more in general. The fact that he was Harry's godfather had barely been touched upon, and Harry was eager to hear more of the stories about his father that had been hinted at.
Lyra at least had settled, and was currently content and curled up in the bottom of his pocket.
Scrimgeour barely looked at him when he exited.
The auror seemed deep in thought, and didn't so far as acknowledge or say anything further to Harry as he left. Nala skirted around Scrimgeour's feet as if she wanted nothing more than to speak to him alone.
"Thank you, Rufus," Dumbledore said. Scrimgeour merely grunted in their direction as they walked away.
Harry walked silently, his dead eye remaining fixed back in the direction of Black's cell.
"We have one more visit to make," Dumbledore said leading them briskly back up the narrow, stone staircase. Harry shoved his hands in pockets, feeling Lyra shift at the movement.
"Can't we leave it?" Harry asked. He'd rather get out before Scrimgeour changed his mind and hauled them back in for further questioning.
"I don't think you'll want to miss this," Dumbledore said. Harry hated to see his blue eyes were twinkling again.
They entered the lift, and it rose, whizzing up past the Atrium and up to Level 5 – Department of Internation Magical Co-operation. This level was different from any Harry had been on before. Unlike the Auror office with rows of cubicles and Scrimgeour's office at the end, this floor had a large corridor that curled away in either direction, with a red carpet which ran along the centre of the floor. Dozens of doors led off from this, each with a small brass sign above the door.
They stopped at one which read International Magical Office of Law. Inside, there was a single desk in a large circler room which had even more doors branching off it, leading to individual offices.
Dumbledore approached the old wizard at the desk who barely glanced up from his morning paper. His hamster dæmon was curled up in the brim of his hat, half asleep.
"Second door on the left, Albus," the old wizard muttered, turning a page.
The plaque across the top of the door read Head of Department, Barty Crouch. Dæmon: Ejlin.